Page 16 of Scot of Deception
She didn’t know what to make of it. If she were to believe what Blaine had told her, then she would have to assume he had no good reason to be so familiar with this man or anyone in these parts. He was a Farquharson, and their lands, though neighboring to her own, were nowhere near this place.
He had made no mention of this inn before, about visiting this place before or having stayed there in the past, and so Kathleen didn’t see how he could have known this man. But there was no doubt in her mind they were familiar with each other. She had no real proof, nothing but a gut feeling, but for her, it was more than enough.
Narrowing her eyes as Blaine approached her with their horses, she tried to decide whether or not she should mention it. On the one hand, perhaps she was overthinking it and Blaine just happened to know the man, and so questioning him would give her an easy answer. On the other, if hewas not who he claimed to be, then it was to her best interest to feign ignorance.
The more foolish Blaine thought she was, the better.
Kathleen jumped onto her horse, still torn. Slowly, the two of them made their way back to the main road under a gray sky, Kathleen’s wool cloak billowing behind her as they rode. It was a chilly day, the kind that made her wish she could stay in a warm room with a fire and a cup of wine instead of being out there, at the mercy of the natural elements. And yet she pushed forward, never once complaining about the cold.
As much as she could handle the cold, though, she couldn’t handle her curiosity. She needed to know the truth. As Blaine fell into step next to her, she turned to him, her eyes scanning him carefully.
“How dae ye ken this area so well?” she asked. “Ye seem tae ken a lot more than a traveler would.”
Blaine eyed Kathleen from the corner of his eye, staying silent for a time. Then, all he said was, “The more ye travel, the more ye realize all places are the same.”
Kathleen couldn’t help but think this was not the truth. It was just a way for him to avoid the question, to give her an answer that was really no answer at all.
“Surely, that cannae be right,” she said. “I havenae visited as many places as ye, but even I can tell ye that there are big differences.”
“We’re in the Highlands, lass,” said Blaine with a sigh. “Everythin’ truly daes look the same.”
Once again, Kathleen had to disagree, but she doubted she would get anywhere by doing so. Instead, she asked, “An’ that man? Dae ye ken him?”
“What man?”
“The stable hand,” Kathleen clarified. “Ye seemed tae ken who he was. An’ he seemed tae ken ye.”
“I dinnae ken what it is ye’re insinuating’,” said Blaine flatly.
“I’m nae insinuatin’ anythin’,” said Kathleen with all the patience she could muster. “I am only askin’ how ye ken him.”
Blaine brought his horse to a sudden halt and Kathleen only managed to stop hers after a few paces. When she glanced at Blaine over her shoulder, she found him gripping the reins so tightly that the leather must have cut tight into his palms.
“I dinnae ken him,” he insisted. “But after ye spend long enough travellin’, ye learn plenty o’ things. When ye have tae survive out here, ye learn how tae adapt, how tae act, how tae speak. So be glad ye have me with ye, otherwise who kens what may have happened tae ye?”
It was hardly an answer. Not only that, but Blaine had managed to anger her, too, by implying she would not have made it on her own out there without him. The attack by the Campbell men may have proven him right; perhaps if Blaine hadn’t been there, Kathleen wouldn’t be alive. But apart from that, nothing else had happened to her until then and she wasn’t going to take any more chances. She would do her best to keep herself safe from then, without needing to rely on anyone else—not even Blaine.
For a while, neither of them spoke, as neither was willing to. Kathleen was sure that Blaine could spend the rest of their journey without speaking a single word out loud, but then he surprised her by breaking the silence.
“Ye dinnae seem like the kind o’ lass who enjoys embroidery an’ paintin’,” he said.
Is this his attempt at socializin’?
It was a poor attempt, but Kathleen appreciated it, if only because he was trying, at least, to bridge the gap between them. In the short time she had known him, Blaine had refused to say anything more than absolutely necessary, and now that he was asking her a question, she could hardly believe it, but was also glad for it. Even if his efforts were a little awkward.
“I’ve never been the kind o’ lass tae sit in a room an’ embroider,” she said with a small smirk. “I would much rather be out here, ridin’ or runnin’ or even climbin’ trees. Nae one has managed tae tame me… nae even me faither.”
Scoffing, Blaine said, “Nay one has tamed ye because ye’ve never met someone who could.”
It was the wrong thing to say. Kathleen bristled, the blood rushing to her head and heating her cheeks with anger. Many had underestimated her before, but none as openly or as rudely as Blaine, and she was determined to prove him wrong.
With one last look at him, she tightened her grip on the reins and urged her horse forward, racing ahead at full speed. The wind whipped her face, her surroundings whizzing past her at a dizzying speed. Her horse was fast. She had chosen the mare specifically for her speed and she didn’t disappoint.
Behind her, Blaine cursed loudly as he followed her. The hooves of his horse thundered against the ground, joining thecacophony of sounds that assaulted Kathleen’s ears—the howl of the wind, the hooves of her mare. He must have been furious with her, thinking her childish and foolish for doing something so dangerous, but Kathleen couldn’t bring herself to care. For the first time ever since leaving home, she was enjoying herself.
She felt truly free.
On the long, narrow road, Blaine chased her at full speed and Kathleen had no intention of slowing down. She liked pushing him. She liked the thought that this man, so unaffected and so stoic, could be pushed to his limits.
