Page 22 of Only a Highlander Will Do

“I haven’t had much experience with horses.”

“Then she will be the perfect mare for our journey.”

He helped her mount before he hoisted himself onto the charger’s back. She juggled at the reins and tried not to think of how far she was from the ground.

As he issued commands to his men, she studied Tormod’s profile. Now that she’d seen the brothers together last night, she was perceiving differences between the three of them even though they were identical triplets.

Alastair had an air of noble sophistication, Tormod was raw and enigmatic, and Orrick was contained and valiant. Three brothers raised in the same situation, yet they were entirely different from each other. She shook off her thoughts as the drawbridge lowered and they started across it. Tormod was true to his word. Seaspirit set off at a smooth pace that made it easy to sit atop the animal without clutching the reins overtight. “It will be nice to see parts of Scotland other than those near Ulster.”

He gazed at her in bewilderment. “You’ve never been outside of the grounds of Ulster Castle?”

“Not until yesterday.”

He smiled. “The route to Glen Brittle is very scenic. Even at a faster pace, you will see many beautiful parts of Scotland. And, if I feel it is safe enough, we might make one quick stop at a very special place.”

Heat came to her cheeks at the thought that he would accommodate her so. “Bringing all these men with us suggests that you expect trouble.”

“It is best to be prepared for any eventuality,” he said, guiding his men to the south-east.

As silence settled between them, Fiona looked about her and inhaled the scent of the earth. Though she had little to compare it to, she thought the Highlands of Scotland were the most beautiful place in the world.

All around them Fiona could hear the murmuring of water and the whisper of the wind that gave her the impression of a land alive and somehow sentient. To the west were the flat-topped hills of Healabhal Mhòr and Healabhal Bheag that dominated the landscape for miles. In the distance to the west were craggy prominences that swooped down towards the lochs at their base. Clouds hung high overhead, looking both turbulent and whimsical as they rolled across the sky.

The land was rugged and mysterious, both life-giving and demanding of respect. And as soon as they made it to Glen Brittle, she would have her own little piece of this wondrous world to call her own in the future. That in itself made marrying Tormod MacLeod worthwhile if the marriage brought her nothing else.

When she had looked at everything around her, her eyes strayed to the man who rode beside her. He appeared at ease atop his horse, as though he grew up riding across the isle. He also accommodated her lack of skill, keeping the pace slow until she grew more accustomed to the rhythm of the animal beneath her.

Today he was back to being the Highland warrior he had been when they’d first met. He was dressed in a snowy-white shirt, his clan tartan, and tall black boots that left his knees and muscular thighs bare to her gaze. She imagined the warmth of his skin beneath her touch, and a tingle of heat spread from her fingertips all the way up to her chest.

With a small start she suddenly realised his dark eyes were upon her. He was frowning slightly, no doubt curious to know why she had been looking at him with such prolonged scrutiny.

“Does the journey not agree with you?” he asked. “If it is truly a hardship, I can send you back to Dunvegan with several men.”

She frowned at his assumption. “I am no fragile rose who wilts once plucked from its stem.”

He gave her a grin that revealed the briefest glimpse of a dimple in his right cheek. Yet another difference from his brothers. “I am glad to hear that. Then perhaps we could ride a bit faster?”

“I am quite capable of matching your pace, whatever you choose that to be.”

“Then hold on,” he said, kicking his charger into a trot. The mare matched his horse’s pace, as did those riding behind them.

The next three hours passed in silence as all Fiona could do was cling to her horse and pray she didn’t fall off. She wouldn’t give Tormod the satisfaction of knowing the pace he’d set was gruelling for her after all. The Black Cuillin lay directly before them when finally he slowed his horse. The mare beneath Fiona seemed as if she could go on forever, but Fiona was near exhaustion from her efforts to stay upright.

They’d been following the River Brittle for the past mile or so. The water level was lower at this time of year without the rain or the snow from the Cuillins to feed the flow, and yet she could still hear the gentle ripple of the water as it made its journey downstream.

Tormod stopped near an outcropping of rowan trees and jumped to the ground, leaving his horse free to graze on the grass at his feet before coming to her side to help her dismount.

The ground beneath her seemed to sway. Had he not held on to her, Fiona feared her legs would have buckled beneath her. “Thank you,” she said, almost loath to admit her weakness.

With his hands solidly at her waist, he smiled down at her. “I pushed you pretty hard. I figured you would ask to stop well before now.”

“Showing others my vulnerabilities is not something I am used to.” She forced her knees to straighten and took a small step away from him.

He slowly released her, making certain she could stand on her own. “You do not have to be so strong around me.”

The words brought an odd tightness to her chest. She wasn’t used to having anyone else to lean on. “Where are we?” she asked, looking everywhere but at him.

“Come. Since it appears safe enough, I want to show you something special.” He took her hand before turning to Graeme and his men. “Stay here with the men. Let the horses drink and eat so they will be ready for the next leg of our journey. If I have need of you, I will use our secret whistle.”