Page 46 of Kidnapped By a Highland Shadow

The Final Escape

It appeared that after a few days of good treatment and plenty of food and rest, Edward could gallop alongside the best of them. Perhaps he even relished the opportunity to stretch his legs after two or three days of sedate trotting.

They barrelled through the dark forest, trusting Edward not to run them head-first into a tree. Pippia bent low over the horse’s neck, eyes squeezed closed against the branches that kept slapping them in the face. Arran leaned close behind her, shielding her from the worst of the impacts.

They rode and rode until Pippia’s whole body was numb, and she was so chilled by the wind that were it not for the warmth of Arran’s body behind her, she was sure that she would be too cold to even hold on. There was no way to count the passage of time since the moon couldn’t be seen, but Pippia was sure that the first rays of dawn were beginning to show by the time Arran finally straightened up in the saddle and allowed an exhausted Edward to slow to a walk.

“Alright?” Arran asked, his voice hoarse.

Pippia nodded numbly. “I can hardly feel my hands.”

“We’re almost there.”

She twisted to look up at him. “Where?”

Arran smiled fondly down at her. “You’ll see.”

They trotted on a little further, with every step threatening to cause Pippia to slide off into the darkness. Arran wrapped his arm around her waist, holding her firmly in place. She leaned back against his chest, head tilting back against his shoulder, and she let her eyes flutter closed.

Pippia must have dozed off as she was suddenly jerked back into consciousness by the rolling movement of Edward underneath her suddenly ceasing.

“Arran?” she murmured sleepily. “What’s happened?”

“We’re here. We’ve reached the river.”

It was then that Pippia realized that she could hear the rushing of water. She didn’t recognize where they were. The water was slower here than she’d ever seen it, flowing leisurely along its banks. In some places, she estimated that the water was no deeper than waist-high, with a gentle current. She could easily wade across it.

The sun was up by now, but barely any higher than sunrise. Golden light filtered through the trees, bringing a hint of warmth along with it. The clearing was picturesque and bright, a stark distinction to the close-packed darkness of the McTavie forests or the barrenness of the Stewart hills.

“Wait, do you mean the river that flows between McTavie and Stewart land?”

“That’s right.”

“Then we’ve reached the border.” Pippia felt an overwhelming sense of relief. They’d made it. They’d made it to McTavie land. Even if Stewart and his men did pursue her, they would only dare to travel so far. One man could travel a long way—all the way, in fact, as evidenced by Arran’s bold kidnapping, but an army could not travel far without being noticed. If Stewart sent another man alone, Pippia would be ready.

“That’s right. You should cross immediately,” Arran said. “This isn’t where we crossed before. We’ve ridden diagonally across Stewart land, and we’re almost at the far corner of his lands. If you cross now, while the river is quiet, you can ride straight back to the keep. Ride fast, if I were you.”

“It’s such a relief,” Pippia sighed. “I never thought I’d miss that ugly old castle.”

Arran smiled, then turned to slide off Edward’s back altogether. Pippia clutched at his arm.

“Wait, Arran. Where are you going? I thought you said to cross now?”

“I did. You’re going alone.”

“What? No! What do you mean?”

Arran smiled sadly up at her. “You know the way from here, don’t you?”

“No!”

“Well, it isn’t hard. You need to find a road, then follow it east until you hit familiar land. You’ll be quite safe, I promise.”

Pippia shook her head. “No, I meant why aren’t you coming with me?”

Arran arched an eyebrow. “Well, isn’t that a wonderful idea? Shall we decide now what we’ll say to your father? I could introduce myself as your kidnapper, and one of Stewart’s—his greatest rival, by the way—warriors. Perhaps I can also have a look for some widows and orphans I’ve made by killing McTavie men and greet them too.”

“I don’t appreciate that attitude. I want you to come with me, Arran. We can explain—”