Page 193 of Tales of Highland Loyalty

Malcolm, who had brought his horse to a stop also, waited for her. For a moment, he was hopeful, but then he saw her pose.

But Ainslee's face was a white-hot picture of fury. As she walked purposefully toward him, it was clear there was no hope of a truce.

"Nae, never, do that again to me - or my poor horse!" she fumed, her voice turning low and dangerous. Malcolm watched her sinewy frame as it moved towards him.

Even enraged, she was compelling. Something in the way she walked, it just got him. Everything about how he loved her came flashing back. Feeling hot, then cold, Malcolm gazed, perplexed.

Do what, he nearly asked, but the look on Ainslee's face almost froze him. She might have been talking about the chase, but it was clear from her eyes she meant everything that had happened. From her frosty poise, to her clenched jaw. He had never seen her so livid.

It turned him on. A hot flush of passion surged through him. Struggling to stay composed, he watched Ainslee as she turned, back ramrod straight, and walked back to her poor horse.

"Ainslee," murmured Malcolm, but it was no good. She stopped, and hit him with the force of her ice cold stare.

She didn't even need words. She hated him. That much was clear. Now she was looking at him, cooly. Stopping before mounting her mare, she shook her head.

"Ye say ye wanted to ken how I was... well, I am the same. I nae married, there ye are. I waited. But ye? Ye didnae, I think that says all it needs to!"

Her brown eyes lowered, as she returned to her horse. Aggrieved, Malcolm started.

"Nae!" he said. "Ye've got this all wrong... I mean... It tis nae the way ye think it... those lasses, didnae mean anything..."

Ainslee eyed him pointedly. Backed against the cliffs and the sea, it felt as he was explaining to the whole world about his infidelity. Uncomfortably, Malcolm flinched.

Crashing waves broke their way over the rocks to the road. The tide was coming in. Malcolm's thoughts panged back to the Margret Rose, tied up in the harbor. Would he ever see it again?

It did not bother him one jot if he did not. Nor any of the lasses he had met on his journeys.

All that mattered was making Ainslee understand.

But she didn't. Sadly, she mounted back on her dappled mare. "Nae, Malcolm, I think ye mean we didnae matter..."

"Ainslee!" Malcolm shouted, sharply. This time it was so loud that James turned around. Slightly ahead of them on the road, both he and Marisse slowed their horses to a medium trot. But Malcolm shook him off with an abrupt stare. He did not even care if he heard them, right then, it was just about her

The wintery winds wailed, as Malcolm struggled to distract Ainslee. So, he could not race her, but he could appeal to her better nature.

"Ainslee, lass, listen. I nae left ye because I wanted to. Yer listening to lies...!"

For a moment, Ainslee paused, her dark eyes glanced strangely at him, lingering for a minute or two. Then, she shook her head.

"Nae," she said, after a pause. "And anyway, it is all too late...," her eyes raised pointedly. "About ten years too late..."

* * *

"Let's stop," James brought the company to an abrupt halt. Only a mile from the village, he pulled up, sheltering beside the mountain side.

Ainslee looked at Marisse, then sniffed in disdain. She could not bring herself to acknowledge Malcolm, riding alongside her. Right then, she wanted to forget he even existed.

"Why," she huffed, tugging the reins of her dappled horse. But as the others slowed to a halt, it was impossible to get any further.

"Here," said Marisse, without explaining. Silently, Ainslee stopped, tugging her already weary horse's reins. Once again, she dismounted, but sulkily, walking up to Marisse, waiting for her.

"We'll nae get anywhere at this rate," Ainslee tutted, with a parting glance to her horse. Privately, she was worried about getting anywhere at all on the reluctant little mare. The horse, which had carried her yesterday, seemed to have gone as far as it wanted to.

In honesty, Ainslee shouldn't be surprised. She was aged, and delicate. Really, she was only good for short rides, and the long trip back to the Duncan clan was anything but. However, this meant she was now stuck, in the middle of nowhere, with Malcolm nearby.

"We'd be better off on oor own, wi'out the distraction o' men!" Ainslee added, cursing the bandits that had sent them on this long winded route. "All they've done is slow us doon!"

"Come on, let's blather a wee while," said Marisse, who seemed to have an ulterior motive. Ainslee shrugged, but followed her friend to the sheltered mountain, to sit nearby.