He didn’t want to move on. He wanted to stay where he was, staring at her with the sun behind her. The spell was broken when she stood up and the perfect image gone but in its place he was able to once again enjoy her closeness. With the two of them in place on the horse, he put one hand around her waist again though he had no doubt she would not fall. She was a natural horse rider. It was in her blood. As were the highlands.
The longer he thought about it, the more certain he became. She belonged in Scotland with him. He told himself not to think about it. What was the point of using her to ensure he did not need to marry if only to fall for her instead? He would still be wed and still unable to patrol but he would also incur the ire of his father and the wrath of the MacKays.
Behind them the castle had vanished from view. The fields and rolling heather clad glens gradually gave way to rougher country, crags and bare rocks that grew bleaker as they gained height, the track growing thin, becoming rutted. “Are we still going the right way?” she asked as the path faded away to nothing.
“Aye,” he replied. “Have faith.”
Another hour and they were high enough to look back and see the castle in the distance, the battlements peeking out many miles away, as if watching them go. Callum paused again to let the horse rest.
“The ravine is up ahead,” he said as she looked around her. “Our land ends at the other side. We must be cautious. Bandits patrol this territory.”
“Bandits?” she asked, her voice containing a hint of tension. “Will they attack us?”
“Hopefully not.”
He looked ahead at the mountain pass which dwelt in the shadows. Either side the two enormous peaks acted as guardians, protecting the MacCleod land. “In ancient times, we worshipped the old men of the mountain land,” he said as they edged forward slowly, the horse having to search for solid ground among the fallen stone. “Offerings were left up here for them by my ancestors. See there.” He pointed at a cairn to their left. In the base a hollow had been formed and in the gloom something sparkled.
“What’s that?” Kerry asked.
“A wee stone.”
“A wee stone? It looks like an emerald the size of my fist?”
“Aye, maybe it is.”
“And no one has stolen it?”
“It would be a rash fool who took from the old men.”
“Why?”
“These mountains can help or hinder. If you want to make it through the pass alive you’d be wise to leave them an offering, not leave them angry with you.”
“But-”
“Shush!” Callum held up a hand to silence her. Ahead of them a scattering of rocks tumbled down the mountainside, coming to rest in a plume of dust.
“What is it?” Kerry whispered.
“I dinnae ken,” he hissed back. Glancing up at the mountainside, he saw nothing. “But I will be glad when we’re through.”
Urging the horse forward again, they made slow progress through the ravine, the light fading behind the mountain, leaving them in the silent gloom. There were no signs of life anywhere, only bare rocks and another tumble of stones to their right. “Is that normal?” Kerry asked.
“No,” he replied. “Keep your wits about you.”
He stared forward as they went, his hand going to the hilt of his sword. “Keep the reins a wee while,” he whispered. “And if it comes to it, keep going forward. Ask for Fenella in the right places and many will point you the right way.”
“What? Why are you telling me that?”
“Quiet. No more talk.”
There was a moment of silence and then an echoing roar across the mountainside. “Bahoo!”
The response. “Bahoo!”
“What is that?” Kerry asked, twisting her neck to look at him.
“MacDonalds,” he replied, spitting onto the ground as from both slopes men sprinted out from behind boulders, running as best they could down toward the two of them. “We may outrun them.”
