Page 193 of Wicked Highland Heroes

He reached her side. “Mistress Muira tells me you are going to the village.”

“Aye.”

“Until I deal with my brother, I do not want you leaving the castle alone.”

“Do ye really think he will return to Buchan, much less come anywhere near Castle Glenbarr?” she asked.

“He has done many things I would not have thought him capable of. I will not risk your safety a second time.”

He feels guilty, she thought. Rhoslyn glanced at the gate. She needed to go to the village. Even a small chance that she could obtain the pennyroyal... Was St Claire’s interference divine intervention?

“I am only going to the village. No one will dare harm me there.”

“I will send men with you.”

She nodded, despite uncertainty. “Any strangers unlucky enough to enter Kildrum will probably get run through with a sword before they can deny any crime.”

St. Claire nodded. “Step even a foot outside the village without my men, and I will lock you in your chambers until my brother is dead.”

Rhoslyn blinked. “What? I didna’ argue with you, St. Claire.”

“I want to be sure we understand one another,” he said.

Words failed her. He hadn’t waited even a day to draw yet another line in the sand. “Aye, we understand one another, ye arrogant—”

“Good,” he cut in.

He turned and strode toward the castle.

Rhoslyn stared for an instant, then broke from the shock and started forward after him. She stopped. She had won this skirmish—if by accident. Tomorrow was another day, and only God in his ultimate—male —wisdom knew what lay ahead.

Rhoslyn’s fear was realized. She wasn’t going to be able to obtain pennyroyal from her local healer. Not that she’d had high hopes. Asking for the herb was too great a risk of exposure. But it mattered not, for Rhoslyn hadn’t seen the herb amongst the others in the woman’s store. She had obtained oregano, along with several other herbs, but oregano was mild compared to pennyroyal. She trudged along the lane in the village, heart heavy. It was possible the healer had the herb in a safe place, but Rhoslyn couldn’t chance sending someone to inquire. That would be damning evidence that she carried Dayton’s child, and the villagers had already begun speculating as to what had happened after he kidnapped her.

She didn’t yet know if she was pregnant. Her flux wasn’t due for another week, and it could delay as much as a fortnight. But she didn’t want to wait that long before drinking an herbal brew. The desire to cry rose, as it seemed to every hour. After seven long years of yearning to conceive with Alec, she wouldn’t have thought it possible that she wouldn’t want a child. What were the chances she would conceive so quickly? She had asked herself that question a thousand times. The chances were small, but what would she do if forced to bear a child that had come to her as a result of rape?

Emotion stirred in her breast. She hadn’t considered the possibility of another child. In truth, she had avoided the idea of marriage altogether. Could she so easily end a life, even one born of violence? Whatever sin she had committed that had brought God’s wrath down upon her husband and son would surely be multiplied a hundredfold if she took the life of an innocent child.

A woman’s scream yanked Rhoslyn from her thoughts. From the corner of her eye she glimpsed a blur of movement between the cottages across the lane. Her hand went to the dagger strapped to her belt before the blur shot out into the lane and she recognized the billy goat belonging to the elderly Christine. The goat had a green dress between its teeth. The fabric billowed above him like a banner.

A girl raced out into the lane in pursuit of the animal. Rhoslyn blinked. Was this Mary Boghan? Only fourteen months ago, Mary had been a slim, petite girl. Now she was...plump.

“Stop the goat!” Mary shouted. ”That is my wedding dress.”

A boy exited one of the cottages. He stopped and began laughing. The animal neared Rhoslyn and she jumped into the middle of the lane with the intention of turning him back toward Mary. The goat darted right. Rhoslyn lunged for him, but he feinted left, then went right, and loped past her. She whirled as Mary raced past her.

“Bloody animal,” Mary screeched.

Rhoslyn yanked up her skirts and gave chase, easily passing the girl. The goat let out a loud bleat that Rhoslyn felt sure was laughter. He dodged between two cottages. Rhoslyn pumped her legs faster and closed in on the animal. She was close enough to grab the dress. She made two swipes and missed, then dove for the animal as they reached the far lane. He veered left instead of right, and Rhoslyn’s arms closed around air. She hit the ground and got a nose full of dirt.

Rhoslyn shoved to her feet and whirled in the direction the animal had run as Mary’s curses sounded behind her. Two boys had joined the chase, and Rhoslyn shot forward after them.

After a few seconds and another loud bleat, the goat disappeared down another narrow lane. Rhoslyn made a quick right with the intention of cutting him off with a short cut. She zigged and zagged down two lanes and came out on the lane she’d seen him take. He was headed straight for her. She hurried to the middle of the lane and widened her stance in readiness to grab the animal. He raced forward, a dozen people in pursuit, the dress furled in the wind, and Rhoslyn couldn’t help laughing. He neared her, spurred on by the crowd. Rhoslyn was sure he’d never enjoyed so much attention. It seemed his gaze locked onto hers.

He let out another loud bleat and tried to dodge right. Rhoslyn whirled and seized his tail. They tumbled through in the dirt in a tangle of fabric and spindly goat legs. He managed a kick to her thigh, and she gasped but held tight. Strong fingers closed around Rhoslyn’s arm and she was yanked upright, coming face to face with St. Claire. The goat bleated and took off again, the dress now tangled in its horns.

“Now look what ye have done,” Rhoslyn cried.

She broke free of St. Claire and lunged after the animal. The dress fluttered across his face, and he slowed. He was blinded by the fabric Rhoslyn realized with a thrill. She dodged left and grabbed for the dress but missed. The pounding of booted feet sounded close behind and St. Claire came into view running alongside her. He flashed a smile, then passed her with ease.