“Dinnae fash yersel. I haven’t found one yet.”
Drinking in one last look at the beautiful lass, Iain made his way outdoors and into the sunshine. The sky was clear, and spring was quickly turning into summer. He spotted a horse nibbling on the new spring grass next to the burnt-out stables.
The horse wasn’t in the best condition, but he was strong enough to carry the two of them. He couldn’t find a usable saddle, but he found a bridle, and once he’d mended the reins, the horse was set to go.
Abigail had rolled as much food as they could carry in three blankets, and he couldn’t help leaning into her clean smell as he took the roll from her.
She didn’t seem to notice and was frowning up at the horse’s back where Iain had draped a blanket over its whithers.
Iain clasped his hands around her small waist. “Ready?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.”
With one movement, Iain plopped her onto the horse. Iain leapt up and sat behind her. The horse moved, and Abigail let out a cry. Iain wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her back into his chest. “I’ll not let ye fall. Just relax and let yer body go with the horse’s movements.”
Hanging on to the horse’s mane, Abigail hissed through her teeth, “I’ll try.”
At first, she appeared to handle sitting on the horse well, but after a few miles, she kept shifting her bottom. “If you don’t stop doing that, we’ll have to stop.”
“Sorry, but my butt is really sore.”
He chuckled. He loved her way of speaking, and without thinking, he kissed her neck. “Relax.”
She stiffened, and he could have hit himself.Let her be.
They rode in silence from that point on, and by midafternoon, Iain was ready to rest.
A line of smoke plumed up into the clear sky ahead of them.
“Look,” Abigail said, pointing to the dark cloud.
“Aye.” Iain stopped the horse.
“Keep going.” She turned her head, and her blue eyes darkened in sadness. “There might be someone in trouble there.”
She was right, but if the English were responsible for the fire, they might still be there. Iain nudged the horse into a walk, ready to turn and run at the first sign of trouble.
The closer they got, an aroma drifted on the breeze into Iain’s nostrils. He had smelled that stench before. Burnt wood and supplies. The aroma was sweet and pungent at the same time.
Abigail gagged and twisted to face him. “What is that smell?”
At that moment, they rounded the bend, and Iain couldn’t keep the gasp from escaping his throat. Colin’s caravan had been attacked, and by the looks of the wreckage, the MacDonalds had lost everything.
Abigail snatched her head around. “No!”
Iain stopped the horse and dismounted. “Stay here.”
But before he’d finished speaking, Abigail had slid off thehorse and stood staring at the scene, her mouth open in shock and horror. She pulled her skirt up over her mouth and nose. “No,” she whispered, and began sobbing into the material.
Iain turned her so that her back faced the carnage. He wanted to protect her from seeing the burnt-out wagons, and he had no way of knowing if anybody was killed, but they had to pass to continue their journey. He hugged her to him. “Stay here.”
She nodded, and he strode to the site. He couldn’t find any friends alive or dead, but Colin or one of his sons had struck one of the attackers down. Iain growled at the colors the murderer wore.
Abigail stopped at his side. Tears streamed down her face. “That’s one of Cumberland’s men,” she said, staring at the bloody carcass.
“Aye.”
She turned her face up to his. “Iain, they are going after all Jacobites. They mean to kill all of you.”
