Bride of the Solway (2 page)

He had no choice. For in that flash of lightning, he had clearly seen a terrified bay horse and, on its back, an equally terrified girl dressed in what looked like a long white shift and with her dark hair streaming behind her. Heaven knew what she was about, fleeing alone into the night. She might be a thief. She might even be mad. But whatever she was, Ross could not leave her to the mercy of the Solway and the terrible storm.

He kicked Hera into a gallop and cursed loudly when she baulked. 'Come on,' he breathed, leaning over her neck. 'Come on, Hera. Don't let me down now.'

Obedient to his voice, the mare started bravely forward once more. Ross knew that his chances of catching the girl were slim—she was already well ahead of him and he did not dare to force Hera to match the pace of the bolting horse—but he still had to try. Somewhere in front of them lay the Solway with its quicksands and unpredictable tides. Unless the horse stopped of its own accord, it would probably kill itself and its rider. The odds were against him. But Ross knew he had to try.

Another huge lightning flash, followed immediately by thunder. This time, Hera's only reaction was a nervous twitch of the ears. Ross was almost sure that he had seen the girl, a long way ahead. There was something white up there, certainly. He urged Hera to move faster.

Now they were in the eye of the storm. The thunder was almost constant. Lightning forked to the ground. The storm seemed all around them, and very dangerous. The sudden drenching rain of high summer had started, too. Ross could feel it soaking through his clothes and running down on to his saddle. He gripped the slippery reins more tightly. He was sure, now, that he was gaining on her. Her horse must be tiring. In that last glimpse, she had seemed much nearer than before.

There was another bright flash and a huge crack of thunder, directly overhead. Ross saw the girl about fifty yards ahead of him. Her horse reared in fright, unseating her. Then it started off again, pulling the white-clad figure behind it.

Ross breathed a curse. She must be caught in the stirrups! The animal must slow now, surely, with such a weight dragging behind it? But the girl... How would she survive such an ordeal?

It seemed to take an age before Ross caught up with them. He reached out to grab the horse's bridle and force it to a steaming halt. Only then was he able to do anything about the fallen rider.

He threw himself out of the saddle and knelt by the sodden body on the ground. The girl was not moving. Perhaps she was dead? He put a hand under her shoulders to raise her inert form.

'I can shift for myself, thank you, sir,' said a sharp voice from underneath the mass of wet hair.

Ross sprang back as if stung.

The girl sat up and tried to push the hair from her face. Then she thrust an arm up in triumph. 'He thought he had the better of me,' she cried, 'Ha! As if I would ever let go.'

In her right hand, twisted round her palm, were the horse's reins. 'You could have been killed,' he said, aghast. 'Why did you not let him go?' 'Because I need him,' she said simply, looking up at Ross through her unkempt mane of hair. 'Without him, I could never escape.' Ross shook his head. Perhaps she was mad, even though she did not sound it. 'Hold my horse,' he said sharply, thrusting Hera's reins into the girl's free hand. 'Now...' He jumped to his feet, hauling the girl up after him. Then he took off his coat and placed it round her. She was shivering with cold. And she was wet through.

'You must not, sir,' she said crossly, trying to push the coat off her shoulders. 'I am perfectly well as I am. I was only—'

'Nonsense,' he snapped. 'You will get the ague if we do not get you warm. Now...I presume you are from these parts? Is there any shelter to be had hereabouts?'

'Well...there is old
Shona's
cottage, I suppose. I was going there when Lucifer bolted.'

Ross laughed shortly. 'He is well named. What on earth made you try to ride such an animal? And dressed as you are, too?' 'You sound like the
dominie
. Why is it that every man I meet wants to tell me what to do? I am perfectly capable of making my own decisions.'

Ross quirked an eyebrow. She was clearly a lady, but she looked anything but capable. Besides, she was probably no older than fifteen or sixteen. She was soaked to the skin, and her garb was barely decent. And she was riding an ungovernable horse. She clearly needed someone to take charge of her.

'I am not a schoolmaster, ma'am, even if I sound like one to you. My name is Ross Graham, and I am a stranger in these parts. If you will permit—' he sketched a hasty and inelegant bow in her direction, which provoked a hint of a smile '—I will escort you to safety. Perhaps you would.. .er.. .point me in the right direction?'

The girl shook her head at him. 'Any man who can remember the courtesies of the drawing room in the middle of a raging thunderstorm must be addled in the brain.'

Ross put a hand firmly on her shoulder and squeezed. He had had enough of courtesies. They were getting wetter by the second. 'Which way, ma'am?' he demanded sharply.

'Oh, very well. Help me to mount, and I will show you.'

'You don't mean to ride that animal again, do you?'

'Of course I do! It will be much quicker than walking, you know. And I shan't let him get away from me again, you may be sure of that. Besides, the storm is passing over. He will be calmer now.'

'Good grief!' said Ross to himself, but he threw her up into her saddle, none the less.

The girl set off at much too fast a pace. Unless she knew every inch of this ground, she risked her horse at every step.

'Have a care!' Ross cried to her retreating back. 'You will kill your horse at such a pace in the dark!'

'Not I!' she retorted over her shoulder. 'Follow me if you dare!'

For ten minutes, he did, wondering all the while whether he was right to risk his mare in such conditions. She had carried him through the final two years of the Peninsular War. It was no fair recompense to risk her on the links of the Solway.

'There!' cried the girl, pointing to a tiny building, almost hidden against a slight rise in the ground. It looked to be little more than a ruined wall from this distance. 'Come on!' She set her heels to Lucifer and pushed him to even greater speed.

Watching her, Ross
realised
that it was no longer quite so dark. The storm was indeed passing. The rain had almost stopped. He could see the girl quite clearly ahead of him. Her white skirt hung down below the borrowed coat, gleaming against her horse's dark flanks in spite of the many mud stains upon it. And her legs and feet were bare.

Reaching the tiny cottage, she threw herself from the saddle and began to pound on the door. It opened just as Ross climbed down from Hera's back and started after her.

From the doorway stepped a tall, black-browed man, grinning fiercely down at the girl. 'I thought so,' he said shortly, seizing her by the arms and pushing her roughly towards one of the three men who had followed him from the hut. Ross's coat fell from her shoulders to the ground. The speaker took no notice. 'Take care of her while I deal with this blackguard.'

'Let her go!' Ross cried. The girl's captor simply grinned and put a filthy hand across her mouth, muffling her scream of outrage. Ross reached automatically for his weapon. He had none. He had not worn a sword since he had put off his regimentals, and his pistols were snugly holstered by his saddle. He had nothing but his fists. He squared his shoulders. Even one against four, he would show them what a man could do.

The dark man must have sensed something. From nowhere, he produced a pistol and casually pointed it at Ross's heart. 'So you're the man, are ye?
Y'are
good for nothing but poetry, it seems. Well, we shall see how many lines you can compose among the rats. Take him and bind him, lads.'

The other two men grabbed Ross by the arms and, in spite of all he did to resist, Ross soon found his hands tightly bound behind his back with rough hempen rope, and a dirty piece of sacking tied around his mouth for a gag.

'Put him on his horse and bring him,' ordered their leader. 'Ned, fetch the horses.'

Perhaps, in the dark, they had not noticed the pistols by Hera's saddle'? If only Ross could free his hands, he might be able to—

'There are pistols here,
maister
,' cried one of the ruffians, pulling one from its place and brandishing it in the air.

'Give them to me. And those bags of his as well. I'll look through them when we have more light. His coat, too.'

Ross's captor pushed him onto Hera's back. With his hands tied behind his back, it would be a dangerous ride.

'And the
leddy
,
maister
?' The ruffian nodded in the direction of the girl, whose thin gown was now sticking to her limbs, making her look almost naked. She seemed oblivious to that, however, for all her efforts were bent on freeing herself from the man who held her fast.

'You and Tarn, take her back to the house and lock her up,' cried the master. 'And make sure she does not escape from you this time, Tarn, or it will be the worse for you.'

At that moment, the man Tarn cried out in pain and pulled his hand from her mouth. 'The wench bit me!'

The girl paid not the least attention to Tarn. She was glowering at the dark man. 'Curse you, Jamie Elliott,' she screamed, with loathing in her voice. 'May you rot in hell!'

'I may well, my dear,' Elliott replied coolly, mounting his horse, 'but not at your bidding. I will see to you later. For the present, I have more important work to do, in dealing with your lover.' Leaning forward, he took hold of Hera's rein and kicked his own mount into a fast trot, pulling Ross's unwilling mare after him. They were twenty yards away before Ned, standing open-mouthed, hauled himself into the saddle of the second horse and galloped after his master.

Behind them, the girl shouted something, but her words were carried off by the wind. Ross and his captors were alone.

'Oh, Miss Cassie! Ye're fair
drookit
! Just look at you! Did ye not think to take a cloak, at least?'

'If I'd stopped to find a cloak, I'd not have got away at all.' Cassandra forced herself to smile at the maid who was fussing around with warm towels and a dry nightgown.

'But you
didna
get away,
dearie
,' Morag said sadly. 'And after this, the laird will make sure to keep ye even closer. When he saw that you'd climbed down from your chamber, he was that
fashed
, he nearly threw Tarn out after you. We could hear him yelling, from down in the kitchen. Tarn's to put bars on yer window, first thing in the morn.' Morag began to towel Cassandra's sodden mane of hair. 'My, but ye're soaked, lassie. '
Twas
a daft thing to do. You'll be getting the ague, next.'

'That's what he said, too,' murmured Cassandra, snuggling into the thick wrapper that Morag had added over her nightdress.

'The laird said that?' Morag sounded astonished.

'Not he,' said Cassandra, on the thread of a laugh. 'Jamie Elliott cares not a whit whether I live or die, provided that I do not inconvenience him and his plans.'

'
Wheesht
, lassie!' Morag's finger went to her lips. Her eyes registered shock. And fear.

'It's no more than the truth,' Cassandra said, though more quietly than before. 'If I died of the ague, my brother would think himself relieved of an unwelcome burden.'

Morag looked grim, but she did not attempt to argue. The whole household knew what the laird thought of his young half-sister. And how unfairly he treated her.

'Morag,' said Cassandra urgently, 'when the laird and the men come back, you must do your best to find out what they have done with him. Please.'

'What d'ye mean?'

'The man who tried to rescue me.' >

'Rescue...? I think you'd better start at the beginning, Miss Cassie. You've got my head in a whirl.'

Cassandra patted the woman's work-roughened hand and let out a long sigh. 'Aye, I suppose... Well...I thought Jamie planned to leave me locked in the little
parlour
downstairs. I was surprised when Tarn said I was to be locked in my own chamber instead. Until I thought about it, of course. From the
parlour
, I might have been able to speak to someone outside, even when the shutters were barred. From my own chamber, there was no chance of that. Not without shouting and being caught. It's too high up.'

'D'ye tell me you climbed down the wall?'

'I... No, I didn't. But Jamie must think I did.'
    
'But if the door was locked—'

Cassandra smiled knowingly. 'There are ways of getting a key from the other side of a door, you know, Morag.'

The maid looked unconvinced. .

'You'll keep my secret, Morag?'

The woman nodded.

Cassandra knew Morag was to be trusted. 'I slipped a paper under the door and then I turned the key from the inside. It took a while. It was very stiff. Then I pushed it out and it fell on the floor. I was lucky. It fell onto the paper and there was just room to pull it back under the door.'

'Oh!' said Morag in wonderment.

'It's an old trick. I'm surprised Jamie didn't work it out. Maybe he was fooled because I relocked the door and left the key there. And the window open.'