Bride of the Solway (20 page)

Ross cursed silently, pulling Cassie even closer into the shelter of his own body. Elliott had pistols. Ross had given both of his to Fraser. A soldier should have known better than to give up all his weapons. At the time, it had seemed the obvious course, for Fraser needed them to keep the pursuers at bay. Now that the pursuers were here, however...?

There was no point in wasting time over might-have-
beens
. The danger was here and now. His task was to protect Cassie. With his life, if need be. She was nestling in his arms like a wet and frightened kitten, seeking his warmth and comfort. Her every move showed how much she trusted him. That thought made him feel suddenly very proud. And very afraid.

Ross absently stroked Cassie's tangled hair, trying to soothe her, to keep her calm and quiet. He had no real fears that she would give them away. She had too much courage for that. In a tiny, disconnected part of his mind, he understood that he was holding her close, and stroking her body, because he wanted to. Because he had been longing to do so. Because he desired her.

The muffled sound of a horse forced him to focus on the danger around them rather than the stuff of dreams. Ross strained to hear the tiniest sound. Had he imagined that faint jingle of harness? With the mist swirling around, it was impossible to be sure of anything. Except the slightly trembling body in his arms.

She moved a little, starting to raise her head from his chest. Was she about to speak? That risk was too great. Ross hurriedly kissed her again, telling himself that it was the only safe way to ensure her silence. But he was lying. And he knew it. Especially when she began to respond to him and the kiss deepened into one of mounting passion. It was lunacy! Kissing her here, in the shelter of some sodden bushes, patrolled by a madman with pistols?

Yes, here! For if James Elliott found them, and killed them both, Ross wanted his last memory to be one of passion with Cassie Elliott. And, judging from the urgency of her response, she wanted it, too.

The presence of death does strange things, he
realised
. And he was not sorry for it.

He became vaguely conscious of another sound—the heavy breathing of an exhausted horse. Then it receded. Or he thought it had. It was impossible to be sure. Elliott might still be out there, only a few yards away. There was nothing to be done but wait. No matter how long it took. He would continue to hold Cassie safe in his arms. And they would wait.

It had been fully dark for a long time. There was no moon. In their leaf-shrouded hiding place, it was impossible to see anything at all.

Cassie was not afraid. Not while she was in Ross's arms. She knew, in the depths of her being, that Ross was going to save her. She did not know how. But the last shred of doubt had disappeared when he had finally torn his mouth from hers and murmured her name. His voice had been so low that she barely heard it. But she had felt the word vibrating through her body. Like a promise to be fulfilled.

He had been holding her close, supporting and warming her weary body, for hours now. He seemed to have the strength of ten. Should he not be as exhausted as she?

He brushed her hair back and put his lips to her ear. 'Cassie, I think he must have left by now.' His voice was barely a thread. 'There has been no sound for hours. He must have gone back.'

Cassie was not so sure. She reached up to pull Ross's head down to hers, so that she could whisper as he had done. 'What if he has decided to stay until the next tide? He may still be here somewhere, searching— waiting for us to make a move.'

She felt a shudder of response run through his body. She could sense the frustration consuming him. And the fear. Fear for her. He would not do anything to risk her safety. If risks were to be taken—and Cassie knew they could not simply remain to freeze to death where they were—she must be the one to say so.

'Sir, do you not think we should try for a better hiding place? If we stay here, we risk being discovered as soon as it is light. There must be tracks, must there not?'

He nodded against her hair. She could feel that his lips were smiling. She did not stop to wonder why. 'If we leave now, no one will be able to see us. It is too dark.'

'You are a brave woman, Cassie Elliott,' he whispered. 'But have you thought? If the mist has not lifted, we may start wandering in circles.'

'At least the walking would keep us warm.'

He made a sound low in his throat. Cassie fancied it might have been a laugh. Then, 'Stay here. I will return as quickly as I can.' He heaved himself out of their hollow and was gone.

Cassie hugged her cloak around her body, trying vainly to make up for the loss of his warmth. And his protection.

He returned more quickly than she had expected. To her surprise, he slid back down beside her and pulled her into his arms. As if she belonged there. He put his lips to her ear once more, but this time he did not speak. Not until he had placed a gentle kiss, first on her earlobe and then on her cheek. 'Don't be afraid, Cassie. I will protect you. I promise.'

She nodded. She knew that.

'There is no moon, but the sky is clear, so we will have the starlight to guide us. As far as I can tell, we are alone.'

She bit her tongue to stop herself from asking whether he was sure. She did not want him to think she doubted him. And, in any case, he could not say more than he already had. She hesitated a moment, then put a hand to his cheek. It was no longer wet, but she could feel the grime and the day's growth of stubble.

'Shall we go?' He sounded as light-hearted as if he were asking her for a dance.

'Yes. Perhaps we might find someone to help us soon?'

'We dare not risk that until we are much further from the shore. Your brother may have paid watchers here.' As if he had sensed her disappointment, he added, 'Later, when we are well inland, I'm sure we shall find help. But, for now, we must make what speed we can on foot.'

Cassie stifled a groan. Her stout boots had been soaked in the Solway. They were still wet, but they were already stiffening and cracking with the salt. Walking would rapidly become very painful. She put the thought aside. The captain's boots—Ross's boots—would be no better. If he could walk, then so could she. Barefoot, if need be.

She allowed him to help her out of the hollow. 'Take my hand, Cassie, and don't let go. If we become separated in the dark, we may not find each other again.'

The touch of his hand was warm and reassuring. Like her, he had lost his gloves somewhere along the way, so she could feel the calluses on his palm. In a strange way, that made his strength seem even more real.

He had been right about the stars. That faint glow did allow them to distinguish the rough shapes of bushes and trees. Animals, too. In one field, behind a stone dyke, Cassie made out the shapes of fat sheep lying on the ground. Still chewing, probably. One of them was certainly awake, for it turned its head as they passed. But none of them bothered to come to investigate the shadowy figures moving silently along in the lee of the wall.

After less than a mile, Ross stopped abruptly. 'Listen!'

Cassie listened intently, but all she could hear was the sound of a brook.

'Are you not thirsty?' There was a quiver of laughter in his low voice. 'I... Yes. Yes, I am.' She had not thought of it till now, but her throat was parched.

'Come. Take care where you walk. The bank may be slippery.' He led her towards the sound, gripping her hand firmly. 'Here. Sit down on this stone. At least it is not as wet as the grass.'

He let go of her fingers, but returned an instant later with some cool water in his cupped hands. She drank greedily. Nothing before had ever tasted quite so good. He continued to offer more and more until she shook her head and pushed his hands away. 'You must drink too.'

While he was slaking his thirst at the
brookside
, Cassie quietly pulled off her boots and ran her fingers over her feet. Her stockings had been shredded by the cracks in the leather and her heels and toes were blistered. She took off the stocking from one leg and threw it down on the grass. She was just starting on the other when he came back to her. He could not see her bare calves, could he?

She felt, rather than saw, that he picked up the discarded stocking. 'We must not leave any traces.' She thought he put it in his pocket. 'Do you wish to remove the other one, too?'

'I...I cannot. Not while you are watching.'

He said nothing. But he did turn his back for a moment.

Quickly, she removed the second stocking and pulled down her skirts again.

'I'll take that one, too,' he said, and pocketed it. 'Shall I help you on with your boots?'

'N.. .no,' she stammered, blushing in the darkness. 'If you would please turn your back once more...'

Cassie knew she must sound unbelievably
missish
to him, but there was more than propriety to consider. The moment he had turned away, she began trying to force her blistered feet into the unyielding leather, biting her lip against the pain. It was no use. She should never have taken her boots off in the first place. Her feet were too swollen and painful to wear those boots again now. She would have to go barefoot.

Swallowing hard, she stood up and dropped her skirts once more. Mindful of the captain's advice about the stockings, though, she picked up both her boots in her left hand and hid them behind her skirts. It was still much too dark for him to see what she was doing, thank goodness. Just as well, for he was the kind of man who might offer to carry her! 'I'm sorry to have been so slow, sir. I am ready to go on now.'

As he turned back towards her, she stretched out her right hand to clasp his. 'Will you lead the way, sir?'

They had been walking steadily for about half an hour when the sky clouded over again and the rain began. At first it was like damp mist— something Cassie called
smirr
—but it gradually became heavier and heavier. In no time, their half-dry clothes were soaked again. And they were both freezing. They would have to find shelter.

Ross glanced up at the sky, to take his bearings by the stars, but it was too late. There were no longer any to be seen. Instead, he tried to keep going in the direction he had chosen earlier, when he had been able to take a rough fix. They would only be able to inch forward now, feeling their way at every step.

He knew they must stop very soon. If they kept going in the rain and mist, they might lose their bearings completely. He was fairly sure they had been going roughly south-west, towards Sir Angus's house, which lay west and some miles inland from
Bowness
. Ross reckoned that they had made good progress in the terrible conditions, but he had to admit to himself that, for all their efforts, they had probably covered no more than a couple of miles.

In the dark, Cassie gave a little gasp of pain. It sounded dangerously loud even amid the thunder of the rain.

'What's the matter? Are you hurt?'

'No, no,' she said quickly, but he did not believe her. Cassie Elliott could tread in a man-trap and she would still deny she was hurt.

He took a step back towards her and put his arms around her, under her cloak, drawing her into what little warmth he had to offer. 'Tell me the truth, Cassie,' he said gently, but firmly. 'Why did you cry out?'

'I.. .I hurt my foot. I must have stepped on a jagged stone. In the dark. But I am better now, truly. Let us go on.'

He ignored her plea. Instead he knelt down in front of her on the wet ground. 'Which foot?' Silence. She was going to be stubborn. 'Which foot, Cassie? We are not moving from this spot until I find out what is wrong.'

She let out a long sigh. 'The left,' she said at last and raised her skirt a fraction so that he could feel for damage to her boot.

'Good God!' If there was anyone within a quarter of a mile, they would have heard that anguished cry. 'What on earth have you done?' he groaned, but much more softly. 'How long have you been barefoot? Tell me, Cassie!'

'Since we stopped by the stream,' she whispered.

Ross could not find the words to upbraid her. And it would be wrong to do so, in any case, for her motives had been good ones. As for her courage, it was boundless.

'We must find somewhere to shelter.'

'No! I can go on. I—'

'But I will not. I cannot judge the direction without stars or landmarks to guide me. We must stop, and shelter, till the weather clears.' 'Oh.' She had stopped protesting.

'Now, Cassie. Stay where you are for a moment. Take this—' He rummaged in a pocket and produced something that he pushed into Cassie's hand. It felt like a piece of string. 'Tie it round your wrist. Here, let me.' He did so. 'Now I will leave you for a little and try to feel for some shelter. I thought I saw a dyke earlier, before the rain closed in.'

'Oh, but—'

'Hush. I have the other end of the string. There are several yards of it. I promise I will not go further than that. If I am unable to find anything, I will carry you for a little, and then we will try the string again.'

'But—' She was protesting again. He decided the quickest, and simplest way to silence her was the tried and tested one.

He kissed her.

Cassie groaned.

Ross pulled away on the instant. 'Cassie, my dear, did I hurt you? I am so sorry—'