Cheerful y he waited for Amelia to collect the saddle pouches; then he offered his gentlemanly assistance when it came time to mount.
* * *
It took them two hours to reach the shepherd and his flock, which was passing through a fertile green glen under the glorious heat of the August sun. Hazy beams of sunlight burned down from the sky,illuminating hundreds of white, cottony sheep while thick pearly clouds with heavenly linings sailed over thetallmountain peaks. A bird of prey soared weightlessly downward and shouted acallto another while dogs barked rowdily and bounded about on the valley floor, pushing the flock toward the noisy river.
The vast, emerald beauty of itallwas almost too much for Amelia to comprehend. It aroused her sense of wonder and sparked her imagination as she breathed deeply the fresh aroma of the earth and vegetation, gleaming wetly under thebrilliantsun. If she were an artist, she would preserve this scene on canvas, so that it would live forever in her memory.
An odd thought, real y, under the circumstances.
Nevertheless, she studied every detail, determined to never forget what she had seen and how she had felt, beholding such heavenly splendor.
Elliott hopped to the ground and started running.
“Pa! Pa!”
The barking dogs alerted their arrival and came sprinting across the glen to greetElliott.
The shepherd spotted them, too, and began to run.
Duncan—on foot,stillleading the horse—stopped and watched the man drop to his knees and hug his son.
Amelia’s heart warmed at the sight of the boy reunited with his father. Yet at the same time her joy mingled with a deep and painful melancholy as she thought of her own father and how she mourned the loss of him. What she would not give to dash across a Scottish glen right now and run into his safe, loving arms.
The fantasy caused a lump to rise up in her throat, but she fought to push it down and keep the unwelcome tears at bay.
They would do her no good. Not here, and certainly not now.
The drover hugged his boy, then raised his long shepherd’s hook to wave at them. Duncan started forward again, the horsefollowed, and Amelia swept asideallthoughts of her father. She turned her attention to Duncan instead, for she was, quite frankly, struck by the person he appeared to be at this moment—caring, helpful, and forthcoming. A kind and trustworthy man. One you would seek out if you needed assistance. Someone you could depend upon.
This was not the fearsome and brutal Butcher who had materialized out of her nightmares a few nights ago and abducted her into darkness. This was someone else entirely—which was a most bewildering thought.
“Good day to you!” the drovercalledout from across the distance. He wore a kilt, a quarter-length brown jacket, and a plaid bonnet with a feather stuck in it. “Elliotttellsme he almost maimed you with his spear!”
“Aye,” Duncan replied. “The lad is highly skilled. We’re lucky to be alive totellthe tale.”
The drover approached, stood face-to-face with Duncan, and spoke in a quieter voice. “I can’t thank you enough for bringing him back to me. That lad is my life. He has no mother.”
Duncan nodded.«Well, you ought to be proud of him,” he said. “He’s a brave one, no doubt about it.”
The drover turned and looked over his shoulder at Elliott, who was laughing and chasing the dogs around. “Mm. He wants to fight. He’llnot stand for any oppression, even from a wolf who’s only looking for her next meal.”
“I’llkeep an eye out for her,” Duncan offered. “Elliott described her to me. She has white markings.”
“Aye, but I warn you, she’s slick as muck, and she can sneak up on you. I’ve never seen such a clever creature, not inallmy days as a drover.”
“I’llremember your advice. Good luck with your flock, MacDonald.”
Duncan began to turn the horse around, and Amelia nodded at the man, whose eyes were warm and friendly.
“Good day to you, lassie,” he said, touching the brim of his bonnet as he looked up at her, sitting high in the saddle.
She decided it would be best to keep quiet and conceal her English accent. He couldn’t help her anyway. If he knew who she was, he would most likely side with the Butcher—
like everyone else north of the border.
“Good luck, Elliott!” Duncancalledout over his shoulder.
“I’m sure you’llcatch her!”
