Page 18 of Highland Spy

Finally, he slipped off his horse and made his way back to her. “It’s Dutmore Priory,” he told her. “Perhaps ye’ve heard of it?”

“Dutmore?” Her heart stood still. Of course, she’d heard of it. She was the chronicler’s daughter. Her job was to help collect stories and this was one of the most horrifying stories of all. The Scots and the English met here hundreds of years ago, and most everyone died in an awful battle, including the monks.

“The priory itself has no shelter in the ruins, but there is a small enclosure out here that we can use,” said Caleb, reaching up to help her dismount. Lightning split the sky and a deep, low thunder rumbled in the air, resonating in her chest. “What’s the matter, lass? Changin’ yer mind now that ye ken where we are?” He stood with his arms outstretched and that damned arrogant grin on his face. She wouldn’t back down now and give him the satisfaction of telling her that she should have listened to him. Nay. She would spend the night, even if she were too frightened to get to sleep at all.

“Is that where we’re stayin’ the night?” She nodded toward the cell-like enclosure.

“Aye.”

“What . . . was it used for?” she asked.

“My guess is that it was where they put the prisoners, if there were any. A dungeon of sorts.”

“Oh.” The last place she wanted to spend the night was in a dungeon where wounded men were tortured and died.

“Changin’ yer mind, lass? It’s no’ too late to keep on ridin’.”

“Nay,” she answered, shaking her head. “What are we waitin’ for?” she asked, resting her hands on his shoulders as he lowered her to the ground.

“Bridget,” he said softly, staring into her eyes. “Ye dinna have to do this.”

“Why no’?” she asked, forcing a smile.

“I can feel yer body tremblin’. If ye’re scared, we can continue ridin’.”

“I’m no’ scared,” she snapped, dropping her hands from his shoulders. “My body is tremblin’ because I am cold from ridin’ in the rain all day. Now, I said we needed to stop for the night and that is exactly what we’ll do.” Holding her head high, she picked up the hem of her sopping-wet gown and headed over to her father before he decided to ride off into the night again. She would show Caleb MacKeefe that she was brave as well as strong. She wasn’t just a frightened girl who needed a man’s protection.

Jack howled, causing her to jump. She spun on her heel, thinking for a moment she saw a shadow drift by in the fog. “I’m no’ frightened,” she whispered to herself, thinking that being held safely in Caleb’s strong, protective embrace was exactly where she wanted to be.

* * *

An hour later, Caleb sat next to the fire as he and his traveling companions finished eating, and warmed themselves by the fire. The cave-like enclosure was built right into the ground, and was the only place that would give them shelter from the rain. It was small and made from stone. On the stones were scratches, moss, and also what looked like bloodstains to him. It was an eerie place to be and the sooner they left here the better.

The horses, unfortunately, had to risk the weather, not able to fit inside the area with them. Thankfully, the rain had let up, so it wouldn’t be too bad.

“Are our clothes dry yet?” asked Bridget, huddled up next to her father under Caleb’s plaid. Because of the long length of the material, they were both able to use it. He’d given it to them while he sat there in his braies and leine and nothing else.

Logan was cuddled under his plaid with Rhoswen. Jack was off hunting somewhere and Slink explored the area, looking for mice.

“The clothes are wet and heavy and might no’ even be dry before mornin’,” said Caleb, shifting the gowns on the branches that he and Logan stacked up to hold the wet clothes by the fire. “Why dinna ye get some sleep?”

“I’m no’ tired,” she said, looking over at her father. “Da, ye should get some shut eye.”

“I canna sleep when the souls of the dead are all around us,” said Brigham. “There are spirits here that all call out to me, wantin’ their stories told.”

“Well, why dinna ye write them down in the Highland Chronicles?” asked Logan. “Isna that yer job?”

“Aye, that is a good idea,” agreed Rhoswen. “I’m sure the king would like to know about your experience in such a place.”

“Nay!” shouted Caleb. “She doesna want to do that. It isna what the king wants in his chronicles.”

“Well, what do ye think he wants?” asked Logan. “Passages about men with rock-hard muscles that bards sing about?”

“That’s enough, Logan,” grumbled Caleb under his breath, shooting him a sideways glance, warning him to stay quiet.

“Why do ye keep sayin’ that?” asked Bridget curiously. “What does it even mean?”

“Ye’ll find out soon enough.” Logan chuckled again, making Caleb’s blood boil. He didn’t need Bridget reading what he wrote in the book. Not now, anyway. She was already angry with him for some reason and he didn’t want her seeing that now or she’d never talk to him again. He had hoped by escorting her to Hermitage Castle he would get to know her better and she might like him the way he was attracted to her. Unfortunately, things weren’t turning out as planned. Everything he said or did only seemed to upset her more.