Page 28 of The Highlander's Virgin Nun
“Ye tired?” he asked.
“Aye, quite a long day.”
“We’ll be back at the castle soon. This route takes a bit longer, but nae with the crowds fillin’ the streets.”
They pushed onwards, moonlight peeking through the treetops and illuminating their path just enough for Caelan to steer Miller, although he was sure the stallion was capable by himself. Miller had ridden through these woods with him since he was a child.
As they rode, Caelan stayed vigilant as always. After years of being jumped on at every turn, he had developed an extremely good ear and eye. He needed every second he could get to defend himself from these men whenever they attacked.
Maybe without that developed skill, he would not have heard the twig break twenty yards behind them. Maybe he would have let it go, assuming it was a large bird or a small fox heading home just like them. Maybe he would have listened for another sound before urging Miller into a gallop, and as a result, scaring the life out of Rosaline, who was relaxing into the rhythm of the slow canter.
Instead, he took it as a sign. He lifted his weight from Miller’s back and kicked his right flank to instruct him to pick up speed. The horse understood him immediately and pushed forward.
“What’s goin’ on? Why are we gallopin’?” Rosaline asked, confused and disoriented in the dark.
Once they settled into a decent speed, Caelan risked a glance back for just a second. He was glad he did, as he saw the faint silhouette of a man on a horse behind them.
They were trying to stay hidden. Otherwise, they would have been galloping too, not letting Caelan out of their sight. But they chose a gradual, quiet pace, not disturbing too much in the hope of not being caught.
Tactful was more dangerous.
“Someone is followin’ us.”
CHAPTERTHIRTEEN
“I’ve got ye,” Caelan reassured, his voice firm.
His hands were tight on the reins in front of her, but his arms were wrapped securely around her waist. As Miller turned right and left, dodging trees at what seemed like the last possible moment, her body was hurtled in the same direction. But Caelan always had her. His thighs, too, rode up on either side of her, to make sure that her buttocks did not slide off the saddle with all the motion. He was entirely in control of her, the horse, and the situation. She hoped.
Her heart was racing. Now that she had heard about the years of attempted assassinations, she knew immediately that this was another. These people wanted him dead—they would acquire an entire clan if they succeeded, castle and all—and they did not care if a woman riding with the target died in the process. She was undeniably in grave danger.
“Are they close?” Rosaline asked as quietly as she could, her entire body tense. She could not see behind them because of Caelan’s towering body.
“Nae close enough.”
His reply did not exactly quell her worries, but she hunkered down and squeezed her legs around Miller. Caelan had survived every attempt on his life thus far; surely he was able to do it again.
As they rode on—Rosaline noticed they were not headed in the direction of the castle, as she might have expected—she gradually heard the flow of water. The noise that made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end and her heart sink into her stomach. It grew louder as they galloped on. They were headed in exactly that direction.
In just a moment, she could see the moonlight glance off the flowing river, reflecting the ripples and waves as they sped forward in their violent current. The noise drowned out everything else, and she felt as if her head was spinning, tipping her sideways. Her body recoiled, her back pressing into Caelan, and her head dropping. She held onto Miller’s neck as Caealan drove the horse into the river and across.
As the water splashed her legs and soaked her dress, her body almost went into shutdown. She felt the blood drain from her face to her limbs, giving them every ounce of power to hold on. She could almost feel the soup in her stomach roil and threaten to resurface, but in a few agonizing, drawn-out moments, Miller jumped up onto the riverbank opposite and cantered on into the woods again.
Rosaline was stunned. She hadn’t even had a moment to protest or the freedom to leap from the horse as they galloped towards her worst fear. Her body had simply borne down, fought to keep her out of the current, and was now depleted on the other side. They rode on at a slower pace for a while, using the noise of the river to cover their tracks, until they reached a cliffside deep in the woods with a cave below, sheltered from the night.
“Slow down, Miller. Here will do.”
Caelan pulled the horse to a stop and jumped off his back, tying a rope to his reins and the other side to a nearby tree, giving him plenty of room to move.
“I’m sorry if ye’re soaked, but the river was our best option. I’ve got furs aplenty in Miller’s sack,” he explained.
He helped her down from the horse, for she had no energy left in her body to jump down by herself.
“We’ll stay here for the night. It’s too obvious to go back to the castle, and if they do, they’ll face an army of men on watch.”
He lifted Miller’s sack from the saddle, pulling out furs and laying them on the ground in the cave. He rolled a large log over to their base and directed her to sit on it.
“Ye can rest here while I set up.”
