Bride of the Solway (24 page)

The tension had been building in him like water behind a dam. He could hold it no longer. It burst through—as laughter. She heard it and turned. Her expression was a mixture of fury and humiliation. His nervy laughter died on the spot.

'Cassie! Wait!' He began to run. He heard her strangled 'No!' Then she was running away from him again.

He overhauled her just as she tripped over her ungainly boots and fell her length on the grass. For a moment she was too winded to speak. But by the time she had recovered her breath, Ross had thrown himself down and caught her to him. They tussled in a tangled heap of filthy clothes and limbs. This time he did not make the mistake of reasoning with her. As soon as she opened her mouth to berate him, he kissed her. She struggled. But not for long. The touch of their lips ignited the fire of passion in both of them, like lightning striking the tinder of a bone dry heath.

Just before he lost all power of coherent thought, Ross tore his mouth from hers. 'Cassie, my sweet Cassie. Forgive me. I would not have hurt you for the world. I.. .I need you. And I truly want you to be my wife. Will you?'

She hesitated, looking at him with eyes so dark he could have drowned in them. He held her gaze, willing her to respond. Then, at last, she nodded.

He wanted to whoop in triumph. Instead, he kissed her again, long and hard. And she responded with equal passion. Their bargain was sealed.

They moved in the shadow of a hedge until they neared the river. It was clearly too wide and too fast-moving to ford. Besides, Cassie's feet were in no fit state to walk through water again. Ross pushed her deep into the cover of the hedge. There was hawthorn in it. She could feel the thorns digging into her flesh. She bit her lip hard, forcing herself to ignore the little stabbing pains.

'Stay there while I check the bridge,' he whispered.

She could see the concern on his face. He was afraid to leave her. Perhaps he did love her, even though he had not said so? He was caring for her, certainly. At the last moment, he turned back and touched a finger to her cheek, before moving off again. He crept forward, bent into a half-crouch, moving like a shadow. Cassie closed her eyes. And prayed.

In less than ten minutes, he returned. He was smiling. Quite jauntily. While she was still impaled on a hawthorn bush!

'There is no sign of your brother, or any of his men.' He helped her out of her hiding place, carefully removing the thorny branches that had been pinning her down. 'Poor Cassie. You have been in the wars. But I have good news, at last.'

Her spirits rose. A little. He did care. A little.

'I have found a carter who will carry us. There is no need for you to walk any further.' With that, he picked her up, ignoring her cry of protest, and started for the bridge, carrying her as if she weighed nothing at all.

'Put me down, Ross! I can walk just as well as you!'

He shook his head but said nothing. And he tightened his grip on her. Confound the man, he was much too used to getting his own way. In everything.

Cassie did not struggle any more, for his arms were clamped round her like a vice. She struggled instead with her own thoughts. He had said he needed her. That at least was true. She had heard it in his voice. And he had asked her to be his wife. But that might simply have been a means of getting his own way. She could see perfectly well that he was not a man who was easily diverted, once he had decided on a course of action. And it appeared that he had definitely made up his mind to marry her. Because they had lain together? Because, without marriage, she was ruined? Was marriage the price his sense of honour demanded, in return for his one night of passion?

She had no way of knowing. And that hurt. She began to question why she had accepted him, but that answer came soon enough. It was because he had been kissing her until her senses were reeling, until she could no longer tell what was sky and what was earth. She could no more have refused him than she could have flown across that river on her own wings.

He had said he needed her. And he had asked for her hand. She must cling to that. It might be all she would ever have.

A treacherous voice reminded her that she still had not told him of her mother's fate. Would he have offered for her if he had known that? That little worm of doubt settled in her gut, twisting and gnawing. She did not know. And she never would. Not now.

'Ah, here is our carriage.'

The so-called carriage was a very dirty farm cart drawn by a single ancient horse. The carter threw them a strange look. No doubt he thought she was a mad woman, dressed as she was, and carried in the arms of a man who looked like a cross between a ruffian and a beggar.

'My wife and I were caught by the tide in the Solway. She lost her boots and cannot walk, as you see. But you said that you were going near
Whitemoss
House, did you not?'

'Aye, sir. It's on my way. I be going to
Langrigg
.'

Cassie gasped. Even Ross paled.

'
Langrigg
, you say?' Ross said, after a moment.

'Aye, sir. D'ye ken it? Village
t'other
side o' the abbey. Was ye wanting t' gang there?'

'Er...no. No, thank you. If you would simply take us to
Whitemoss
House, by Newton
Arlosh
, we should be obliged to you. And I promise it will be worth your while.'

'Thank '
ee
, sir.' The man touched his greasy cap and climbed up on to the front of the cart.

Ross lifted Cassie on to the back of the cart and made them both as comfortable as he could. 'The carter offered us seats beside him, but I refused,' he whispered. 'It's less than five miles, he says, and we still have to plan what to say to your godfather. I should have thought of that before.'

Cassie thought he sounded cross with himself. No doubt he was berating himself for being carried away by passion when he should have been planning their campaign.

The cart started forward at an easy pace. The carter was singing to himself, in time with the plodding hooves.

'Now, lean against me, Cassie, and keep your head down so that no one can see your face. If anyone speaks to us as we go by, you must not look at them, or say a word. Do you understand?'

She nodded. He was right, of course, but did he have to be quite so imperious? He sounded like a sergeant-major with a raw recruit.

'We must stick as closely as possible to the truth. And you will have to do much of the telling, I'm afraid. You can say that you were coming to see him, with Morag, of course, to...er...consult him about your future. You had to come in secret because your brother was totally opposed to any such visit. Sir Angus does know about James, I suppose?'

'Yes.' As soon as the word was spoken, Cassie
realised
, with a guilty pang, that she sounded like a mutinous child. And she was behaving like one, too. But Ross seemed not to have noticed. He was intent on concocting their story.

'I happened to be in Annan and offered to escort you both across. Unfortunately, on the day, the crossing proved too treacherous for the carriage. Morag refused to go on foot. But you.. .er.. .you—'

'I behaved like a spoilt child and insisted,' Cassie said, with renewed spirit. This was a part she could certainly play. And now was no time to let her doubts get in the way. She pushed them aside. 'Don't worry,' she said confidently. 'Sir Angus has not seen me for years. He has no reason not to believe that of me. I'll spin him a tale about taking
Shona
for a chaperon and only discovering, too late, that she would not stay with us.'

'Good. Very good. And then, of course, we had to struggle ashore and were soaked in the process. You also lost your boots.'

'Did I?'

'You did. You are like a tiresome child, Cassie. And frequently stupid and headstrong.'

'Oh. Undoubtedly. And then what happened, pray?'

'We were unable to hire any horses, but managed to persuade this good carter to bring us to the edge of Sir Angus's estate. Now, just a few hours later, here we are.'

'A few hours?'

'Oh, yes, Cassie. Mark that. We crossed on this morning's low tide. Last night, you were safely tucked up in bed at
Langrigg
. The Scottish
Langrigg
.'

She had to smile then. He seemed to have thought of almost everything. Except for one thing.

She put her lips to his ear and lowered her voice even more. 'Ross, you told the carter we were man and wife. Did you plan to say the same to my godfather?'

'No, of course not. He would know it was not true. I lied to the carter—' he looked over his shoulder, but the carter was still singing lustily and seemed to be paying no attention to his passengers '—because no lady would be travelling alone with a man unless she was married to him.'

'We might have been brother and sister.'

'Do we look like brother and sister?'

It was true that they did not. Their
colouring
could not have been more different. 'We must just hope, then,' Cassie whispered, ignoring his question, 'that the carter does not start telling the world about the dirty tramp and his wife he carried to Newton
Arlosh
.'

Ross nodded. And shrugged. The damage was done.

'So, as far as my godfather is concerned, Captain Graham and Miss Elliott are...the merest acquaintances?'

'Yes. No!' He shook his head vehemently. 'No, Cassie, I do not think we could convince him of that. Let us tell him that I am a good friend of Colonel
Anstruther's
and that you are much in the habit of visiting the colonel's wife. We have become well acquainted during your visits there. We share a mutual interest, in.. .in—'

'Plants and gardens?'

He smiled at last. She saw the tension leave his clenched jaw. 'Aye, if you like, my dear. As long as you are sure that your godfather does not have the knowledge to test my claim. For I will soon be discovered as a fraud if he does.'

Once they had settled on their tactics, Cassie relaxed against Ross's shoulder and closed her eyes. Ross did not wonder at it. After all she had been through, her body must be exhausted.

Ross was glad of this chance to put his own thoughts in order, soothed by the rhythmic rumbling of the cart. This road, in contrast to others they had used, was remarkably free of bumps and holes. The gradual slowing of Cassie's breathing told him she was asleep. He hoped she would not wake before they reached Sir Angus's house. She needed her rest. He resisted the temptation to stroke her hair back from her forehead, lest he wake her, as he had done once before. No, let her be.

A muffled crack brought his senses to the alert. He looked cautiously all round, but could see nothing to account for the noise. Perhaps the horse had trodden on a twig? That had to be the most likely explanation. There were low hedges and dykes edging the fields, but the land was very flat, with hardly any trees to be seen. A man could hide behind the hedges, but there was not enough cover for a horse. If James Elliott was waiting hereabouts, he was on foot. That seemed highly improbable. More likely that he had given up and gone back across the Solway to join his gang of ruffians. And to think of another way of seizing Cassie.

Don't be too sure, too soon. That inner voice had saved him more than once, in Spain. He knew better than to ignore it. He continued to scan the fields carefully, looking for the slightest sign that the animals were restless or wary. A nervous sheep, or a startling bird might be the only warning he would have of an attack. Until he could deliver Cassie safely to Sir Angus at
Whitemoss
House, she would remain in real danger, for Ross had only his fists to defend her if it came to a fight with Elliott or his men. At
Whitemoss
House, he would be able to borrow a pistol. And he was sure he would be able to rely on Sir Angus's servants, too.

Provided he could rely on Sir Angus himself. What if he did not believe their cock-and-bull story? Might he refuse to offer Cassie shelter? No. Impossible. He was her godfather. And Cassie had assured Ross that her godfather knew all about James Elliott's wickedness. Sir Angus could not turn her away. The real danger was that he would see through their flimsy story and insist on knowing the truth. If that happened... Well, if that happened, Ross would simply admit that they had been together for a day and a night. And then he would formally ask for Cassie's hand. Sir Angus was sure to agree. A man of the world would bow to the inevitable.

But Cassie would be furious. With both of them.

Poor Cassie. She did not begin to understand the risks they were taking. If she knew how many times his heart had been in his mouth... He was almost sure he had managed to conceal how much he feared for her safety. She had probably concluded he was quite without feelings.

If only she knew!

The cart began to slow. 'Here
y'are
, sir,' said the driver over his shoulder. He nodded to a long driveway on their right, flanked by bushes and, further on, by fine trees. '
Whitemoss
House. 'Bout half a mile up yonder.'

The tension in Ross's gut began to lessen. Almost there. He would soon have Cassie safe. Just another half mile along the drive to the house. Just another half mile of careful watching.