Page 38 of Bride of the Beastly Laird

“’Tis a bittersweet conundrum. While we’re together I cannae think of aught else and there’s nowhere I’d wish tae be but by yer side. But even though I cannae continue me search as before, I have many agents now keeping an eye out fer any suspicious activity that could indicate someone is being held. Whether in a deserted farmhouse, a croft, or outbuildings. Trust me, if maither is within a few miles of Castle Mackinnon, sooner or later I will find out.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

They lay together in the warm rays of the morning sun, the sounds of birdsong and the rustling of the breeze through the wood lulling them into a peaceful, drowsy state. Dahlia closed her eyes and it was not long before Arran also slept.

When they awoke the sun was high in the sky and the blue sky of morning was overlaid with threatening dark clouds.

They scrambled to their feet.

“We’d best be going,” Dahlia glanced around, fearing someone may have entered their private haven, but they were still alone. A reluctant Arran got to his feet, reaching a hand to pull her up.

“This has been our own little version of heaven here, but I fear there’s a chill in the air and rain is nae far off.”

Dahlia was shivering. “Och. We were so hasty tae remove our clothing that I’ve forgotten what became of them.”

“They were just here.” He looked around, a puzzled frown dawning on his face. “We flung them down as we discarded them with very little thought. But I cannae see them here now.” He snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her close for one more brief kiss before their idyll came to an end.

“I dinnae ken where they are,” Dahlia scratched her head. “I thought me dress was right here.” She pointed to a tree stump a few feet away. “And me petticoat. And me stays.”

“God’s blood.” Arran thundered. “Me kilt was here too but there’s nay sign of it.”

Dahlia couldn’t resist a tiny giggle. “Some has sneaked up on us and stolen our clothes.”

“And, it seems, all we have to wear is our boots.”

She darted across to where the horses were tethered. “Our cloaks are still where we left them.” Wrapping herself in her cloak she took Arran’s across to him where he stood trying to make sense of the situation, they found themselves in.

“Wait here. I’ll search around in case whoever stole our clothing was only playing a joke on us and has discarded our things close by.”

He was gone for a while, leaving Dahlia to sit and contemplate what this meant. Someone had spied on them and seen them together, naked. The thought of the danger they were in made her shiver.

Arran came stomping back along the track. “There’s nay sign. If a peasant has taken them, they’ll nay be eager to give up the rich clothes and the fine fabrics. I dae regret the loss of me kilt though. It will cost me a pretty penny tae purchase another.”

She moaned loudly.

“The loss is nae what concerns me. It’s being here naked and needing tae find our way back tae the castle.”

For a brief while the two of them sat on a large rock, contemplating the loch, their cloaks pulled tight against their nakedness. The rain had commenced and, before long, they would be soaking.

“It would be funny, Arran, if it wasnae most likely a death sentence fer us.”

“Aye lass. I’m finding it a mite difficult tae muster me funny bone and have a laugh at our dilemma. I’ll just have to figure out how we can find a solution.”

“Well,” she said, a determined note in her voice. “I willnae be returning tae the castle without clothing, so we’d better find ourselves something tae wear very soon.”

“I recall seeing a crofter’s cottage up on the hillside not too far off.”

“Aye. A wee cottage with a few sheep in the field. So ye’ll ask the crofter tae give up his clothes and exchange our nakedness with his? Most peasants only have one outfit and they wear it, mended, tattered and mended again until it is nae more than shreds and then they use it fer patchwork.”

He huffed. “Essentially, that’s the best I can think of. Have ye a better idea?”

“D’ye think the crofter will have clothes enough to share?”

“I cannae say. But if ye dinnae have a better plan, we’d best make our way up to the croft before we’re washed away by the rain.”

The mounted their horses and plodded slowly up the hill, Dahlia doing her best to keep her mind from dwelling on what would befall them should Bairre discover their predicament.

As they approached, a pair of thin sheepdogs raced out of the cottage, barking furiously, closely followed by a stooped, grey-haired man.

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