Page 59 of Rogue with a Brogue
“The next inn’s just south of Manchester,” the innkeeper said. “And they have poached eggs. And toast.”
With that deceptive speed of his, Arran flipped a coin at the man, who caught it just as deftly. “And some milk, if you please.”
Grinning crookedly, the fellow waddled off into the shadows again. “I’ll bring it out when it’s ready. The tables with the candles are cleanest.”
Once he’d gone, Arran led the way to the closest of the lit tables and pulled out the bench for her. “What was that about?” she asked.
“I wanted to see if he would try to keep us here.”
“You thought this could be an ambush, you mean.”
He sat down opposite her. “Anythingcouldbe an ambush. I’m just being cautious.”
Mary couldn’t help looking over her shoulder at the dimness behind her. “How long do you think we’ll have before they do catch us? And don’t say something comforting; tell me the truth.”
Arran grimaced, his chivalrous, protective side clearly warring with answering her request for honesty. Gripping her fingers, he squeezed gently. “I dunnae, lass. I ken Crawford could have sent a letter two days ago, or four days ago from the Giant’s Pipe. That note would have arrived in London better than two days ago. Figuring yourathairand Calder left within the hour, unless they were already on the road and a courier had to catch them up, at worst they could be aboot sixteen hours behind us. At best, thirty hours.”
“That’s good, then.”
“By nightfall they could be twelve hours behind us, and by tomorrow night they could be as close as five. This coach cannae outrun men on well-bred horses.”
A chill ran through her. “What if we left the coach behind?” He didn’t have to finish the equation for her to know what it meant; by morning after next, the Campbells would be directly on their heels. And then… No. She didn’t even want to think about it.
“Two hundred miles on horseback at a gallop, lass? Down bad roads?”
So Arran didn’t think she could manage such a feat. That much was clear. But could she? She’d ridden for several hours at a time back at Fendarrow Park, but not for long at a gallop, and not for two or three days with very little rest. “Do we have an alternative?”
“Mary, this is someaught that once we decide, we cannae go back. I say we stay with the coach as long as we dare, then decide if we can make for the Highlands on horseback from there.”
“I don’t want us to be caught, Arran.”
“Neither do I, lass.”
“No. I mean I don’t want to go back and marry Charles or be locked away somewhere for being defiant. I want to get to the Highlands, and I want to be there with you.”
His expression eased a little. “I want those same things, bonny Mary. But if we flee at a run now, I dunnae think we’ll last till Fort William. This way we still have time and room to maneuver.”
Of course he meant thatshewouldn’t last, but at least he hadn’t worded it that way. Once again, though, she lacked the practical experience to argue with his decision. There didn’t seem to be anything meaningful she could contribute. And now she was slowing them down.
“When it’s time to ride,” she said, holding his gaze, “we will ride. I will not falter, and I will not slow us down.”
He lifted her hand to kiss her knuckles. “I dunnae doubt it fer a moment. Ye are a Highlands lass, after all.”
Chapter Fourteen
Arran barely noted the runny eggs that the unsavory proprietor of the nameless inn set before them. For all the attention he paid, he might as well have been eating straw.
She’d said she wanted to be in the Highlands. With him. And this time, he believed her. He heard it in her voice; Mary Campbell wasn’t still looking for a way to reclaim her previous life, or to escape what would have been a disastrous marriage to Calder. Of course, there was still the chance that she was now in such a hurry to get away because that would keep her from actually having to choose between her family and him. If they were caught, she would have to make a stand.
With a quick, hard breath he choked down a last mouthful of breakfast. She’d never told him anything but her honest, true thoughts, so if he had any doubts all he need do was ask. And he would never do so—because whatever her reasons, and however much she counted on circumstance and a favorable wind, she’d chosen him.
Therefore, all he need do was see to it that they reached the Highlands ahead of the Campbells. Once in Scotland they could marry without all the fuss English law required. And once in the Highlands, amid the valleys and mountains and rivers, anyone looking for them would have quite the task before them.
The part he didn’t want to think about was that he wanted to give Mary a home, and that would be nearly impossible while they were being pursued. And while hiding would be easier in the chaos of renewed hostilities, his family—and hers—would be at the forefront of any conflict, and the idea that Ranulf or Bear might be injured or… killed because of him clawed at his heart.
If Mary’s father had been more reasonable, and if Ranulf had been willing to listen for a damned minute, they might have found a peaceful path. For God’s sake, it was a union of MacLawry and Campbell. It might have united the clans, instead of setting them after each other again. They’d all been stupid and foolish, but he had no intention of giving up Mary because of that.
“Let’s get yer riding habit,” he said, taking a last swallow of tepid milk and rising.
