No one else would accompany them, Alec debating the wisdom of his decision given that his wedding had not granted him a respite from any potential enemies. Yet he wanted to have some time alone with her—aye, he intended to woo her just as his father had sagely suggested, and Rowen was well enough ahead of him now that Alec didn’t waste another moment.
He kicked his stallion into a hard gallop to catch up with her, though he held the horse back a little simply to stare at the magnificent sight of his high-spirited bride.
Rowen letting out a wild whoop of exhilaration that reminded him of his father’s departure, her long hair flying behind her.
Flame red and glistening in the sunlight as she rode with a mastery that would put any Highland warrior to shame…including himself.
Aye, he had no doubt that yesterday she would have expertly veered away from the cliff at the last moment and let him gallop to his death, but thank God he had caught her mare’s bridle in time.
Alec felt some relief that she wasn’t heading in the same direction—the crashing sound of waves upon the rocks carrying to him—but rode instead toward a hillside framed by the purple-hued mountains in the distance.
The craggy summits already covered in snow that would remain until spring, Alec glad for the warming sunshine that left no need for a cloak.
This day so different than the cold, windy weather that had ominously marked their wedding, which made him feel a measure of hope that Rowen might accept her new life and not fight him at every turn?—
“By God, woman,now what are you about?”
Rowen had reined in her mare so suddenly that Alec would have crashed into her if he hadn’t veered his steed to the side. She dismounted to crouch low to the ground before he could turn his horse around.
“Canna you hear them? Rutting stags over there!”
He dismounted, too, as she pointed to the base of a nearby hillside where two massive red stags were locked by their broad antlers in combat, their fierce snorts and angry bellows filling the air.
“Can you believe it?” she said as Alec went down on his haunches beside her, more captivated by the expression of pure wonder on her face than the battling deer. “It’s almost too late in the year—och, but the summer was long and warm. Just look at them! Have you ever seen anything more stunning?”
No, in truth he never had, Alec feeling his heartbeat thudding hard at Rowen’s beauty, all the more enhanced by the excitement in her eyes and the high color of her mud-flecked cheeks.
For the first time since they had met, she wasn’t glaring at him or cursing him or staring at him with suspicion, but so entranced by the sight of the stags that she was oblivious to how close they were together.
The musky scent of the animals drifting to them upon the sun-warmed breeze that lifted strands of her hair to caress his face, Alec finding himself wishing that this shared moment would go on forever…
“Och, no! One of them is bleeding, his throat gored.”
His reverie shattered by the anguish in Rowen’s voice, Alec glanced back at the stags to see that indeed, one of the great beasts had collapsed to its knees.
The other male not accepting this defeat, but so enraged as to gore the older animal again and again as Rowen jumped to her feet.
“If only I had a bow and some arrows!” she cried out more to herself than Alec, who rose to stand beside her. The victor, its antlers bloodied, bellowed as if suddenly aware of their presence and bounded up the hill. The fatally injured stag had fallen over now to lie on its side, its ribs heaving and its breath coming in wheezing gasps.
Alec knew what he had to do; he was the only one with a weapon. He didn’t mount his horse, but instead strode purposely toward the stricken animal and drew his sword.
He heard another outcry from Rowen behind him, his heart going out to her that for one so accustomed to hunting, she still watched, clearly agonized, as he did what he must to end the stag’s suffering.
The creature’s wide brown eyes grew glazed as life seeped from a swift stab through the heart, Alec pulling out his sword and wiping off the blood upon a patch of heather.
When he turned around, Rowen’s face seemed drained of blood, too, as she walked toward him, leading their horses by the reins, though her gaze was fixed upon the dead stag.
Her wonder turned to intense pity…though right before his eyes, she seemed to shake off the emotion and straighten her shoulders.
“Your clansmen will have fresh meat tonight…yet he’s too large for you tae try and lift him onto your horse. You stay here tae fend off the buzzards and I’ll ride back tae tell your men you need a wagon.”
Rowen sounded strangely emotionless, though Alec swore he saw the tracks of tears down her pale cheeks. Her plan made sense and he offered no argument, though he didn’t like that she would be riding alone back to the castle.
“Och, Mackay, look around you! Do you see anyone lurking about tae try and accost me?” she blurted with impatience, reading his thoughts. “You’ve seen how I can ride, aye?”
“Aye, lass, like the wind,” he murmured, her startled look making him determined to double his efforts to compliment her. He longed to see a pleased reaction from her, a blush, a smile, and not just surprise. He sheathed his sword and moved toward her mare to assist her, but Rowen was already hoisting up the cumbersome tunic to launch herself into the saddle with amazing agility.
Alec’s throat gone tight at the fetching sight again of her shapely thighs as she veered her horse around and set off at a hard gallop, while above him dark brown buzzards had begun to circle and squawk.
