Page 63 of Bride of the Beastly Laird

Snaking up the mountainside ahead of them was a well-worn track, a white zigzagging line in the moonlight.

“Halfway up that track is a small village of shepherds and goatherds. With luck, we’ll be able to rest there for a few hours before we progress deeper into the mountains, where the path becomes more difficult and, at times, will call fer us tae dismount and walk with the horses.”

At first the slopes were easy and the horses wound their way up without difficulty, but once they had reached the thickly pine-wooded section, the track narrowed and the horses slowed, finding their footing with each step.

Arran raised his hand and the little party came to a standstill.

“We’ve pushed hard and dawn is on us now. Our horses deserve a rest and we all need a bite tae eat tae break our fast. Craig and Nicol, can ye find a burn tae lead the horses tae drink while ye fill our water flagons? The ladies have ridden fast with us and it’s time fer us all tae catch our breath.”

Nicol and Craig disappeared out of sight, leading the horses, while Dahlia and Beattie unwound and stretched themselves after so long in the saddle.

“I’m happy tae rest fer a while, melord.” With a groan Beattie reached a hand around to rub her back. “I’m nae used tae riding such a long distance. I fear I’ve stiffened up.”

Dahlia looked on with an expression of sympathy. “Ye’ve done well tae keep up with us. Ye’ve earned a rest.”

Arran unbuckled the saddle bags containing their meal and by the time the two men returned with the horses Dahlia and Beattie had unpacked the boxes containing hard boiled eggs, cheese, cold sausages, chicken and oat cakes.

They clustered around finding somewhere to sit on one of the many rocks on the hillside and broke their fast.

Threatening dark clouds were gathering in the east and Craig predicted rain.

Nicol shook his head “From the way those clouds are moving, I’d say there could be storm on the way.”

He pointed ahead and in the grey dawn light it was possible to make out the spiraling smoke issuing from the smattering of tiny cottages much higher up the mountainside. “We can take shelter overnight there if needs be. The villagers will welcome a few extra coins fer their trouble.”

“We cannae afford tae rest here too long.” Arran looked down from his vantage point where the road they’d travelled was now clearly visible. “The road’s empty and there’s nae sign we’re being chased. It may be that we’ve gained a few hours before our disappearance is discovered. But once the word is out that we’ve fled, we can be certain Bairre will send his men after us.”

Dahlia made a tiny sound in her throat. “The prospect of what is in store from a vengeful Bairre makes me shudder,” she said.

Arran reached a hand to take hers and give it a reassuring squeeze.

“Dinnae fash, darling. We’re well ahead of them and they dinnae ken where we’re travelling tae.”

Dahlia and Beattie hastily gathered up the remains of their meal and bundled the boxes back in the saddlebags. There was still enough left over for them to make another meal.

They wasted no time before setting off again. But, as they climbed, the path became more tortuous and it was not long before they were forced to dismount and lead the horses on up the treacherous mountain path.

Arran observed Dahlia looking again and again over her shoulder in trepidation. But there was no surge of horsemen bursting out of the trees in hot pursuit and they continued their painstaking progress upward.

It was almost dusk and already raining heavily when they reached the first of the cottages and came to a halt. Lightning was flashing not too far off and thunder rolled in from the east. The storm Craig had predicted was almost upon them.

A burly young man wrapped in a heavy knitted cloak emerged from the cottage and stood in the doorway to face them, his arms folded across his chest.

Arran doffed his cap and stepped forward. “G’day t’ye lad. Me name is Arran Mackinnon.” He spun around, introducing the others. “We’re sorely in need of shelter.”

The man gestured toward his goats penned-up in a roughly fenced yard beside the cottage. “I’m called Matheus. I cannae help ye. I’ve nae room in me bothy fer ye, as me goats will be taking shelter from the storm under me roof this night, but I can take ye further up the village where ye’ll find respite.”

He emerged from the doorway while two young lads dashed out and set to herding the goats into the dwelling. While the goats slept safe and dry on the ground, the family would sleep above them in a loft.

Matheus strode up the rocky track towards a small group of cottages clinging to the mountain. Arran, Dahlia and the others followed behind him, heads down against the driving rain.

Two other men emerged from the cottages and nodded a greeting to Matheus.

“This is melord Arran Mackinnon who is seeking shelter from the storm fer himself and his friends.” Matheus turned to one of the men, a tall, thin fellow. “I thought mayhaps yer late faither’s cottage, being empty at the moment, could house them untilthe storm passes. The horses could be stabled underneath the sleeping quarters.”

“I’d be greatly obliged if ye could provide us and our horses shelter from this fierce storm.”

The man nodded as a stout woman joined the group. “Aye. Yer faither’s dwelling would dae the gentlemen and the lady.” She cast her gaze over Beattie and Nicol. “These two, the maid and the manservant, are welcome tae rest during the night by the fire in me cottage.” She beckoned them to follow her.

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