Page 26 of The Beast's Bride
In daylight Taran MacKinnon’s face was as inscrutable as his voice had been in darkness. If anything, the long night had given Taran a hard edge. He was taciturn as he prepared the horses, his scarred face cold. He said little to Rhona, other than issue instructions, and she answered him with sullen grunts. Rhona hadn’t slept overnight. She couldn’t—not when she’d just had her freedom stolen from her. Instead, her thoughts circled incessantly as she dwelt on her fate.
Taran set off north-west upon his stocky bay gelding, Tussock, leading Lasair on a tether. Rhona’s hands were bound before her as she rode. A cloak of despair settled over her; they were headed back the way she’d come.
All that risk, all that urgency. For nothing.
A warm, overcast day greeted them, with no refreshing breeze to fan their faces as they rode. The horses sweated, their long tails switching at the clouds of midges that plagued them. The mugginess grew as the morning drew out, and by the time they stopped at noon, sweat drenched Rhona’s back. The midges had tormented her all morning, and with her hands bound she hadn’t been able to swat them away from her face. She felt as if she’d breathed them in, as if they’d burrowed up her nostrils and into her hair.
As they traveled, a large red mountain rose to the north-west, its outline hazy, for the landmark was still some way off. That was Beinn na Caillich, or ‘The Hill of the Hag’ as many knew it. Dread twisted in Rhona’s belly at the sight of the mountain. They’d traveled farther than she’d realized this morning. This time tomorrow she’d be back in Dunvegan.
At noon they stopped for a short spell. Taran tried to feed her some bread and cheese, for Rhona couldn’t feed herself with her hands tied. However, she refused the food. She’d been hungry after her frugal supper the night before, but her belly had closed today. The sight of food made her feel ill. Dread robbed her of appetite.
Taran didn’t force the issue, or comment. Instead, he rose to his feet, brushed crumbs off his braies, and fixed a cool gaze upon Rhona. “Come, lass … it’s time to move on.”
Rhona scowled at him, not bothering to move. She felt as if she’d only just sat down. She was weary, body and soul.
“Lady Rhona.” Taran hunkered down before her. “I know this isn’t pleasant for ye … if I could change things I would.”
She met his eye. “I thought we were friends, Taran,” she replied softly. “Why would ye do this to me?”
His gaze guttered, a shadow moving in its depths. “This isn’t my decision.”
Rhona clenched her jaw. She was growing tired of the excuse he kept repeating whenever she challenged him. “Now I know why folk call ye ‘MacLeod’s Hound’,” she growled out. “Ye are as loyal as a dog. Ye have no will of yer own.”
He drew back from her at that, a shield raising between them. Taran then rose to his feet, pulling Rhona with him. “Ye waste yer breath insulting me, Lady Rhona,” he rumbled. “I’ve been called far worse than that over the years.”
Rhona and Taran spent the rest of the day traveling in silence.
The afternoon pressed on, as humid and smothering as the morning had been. Clouds of midges plagued them the whole way. Rhona blinked and sneezed from the insects.
Taran drew up for the day at the foot of the Black Cuillins, just a few furlongs from where Rhona had camped on her journey south. He brought down a grouse with his slingshot and roasted it over a small fire while, around them, the light slowly faded. Night fell very late this time of year, and the twilights seemed endless. Mercifully, as the air cooled, the midges disappeared. Even so, Rhona’s skin itched at the memory of them. How she wished to bathe in a cool creek or loch and wash away the sweat and dirt of the day.
Seated by the fire, her wrists still bound, Rhona watched Taran turn the grouse on a spit. She inhaled the aroma of wafting gamey meat mixed with the pungent scent of burning peat. Her belly growled, aching with hunger. Despite that her insides felt knotted at the thought of returning to Dunvegan, she had to admit that she was hungry.
Hearing the rumbling of her belly, Taran glanced up. “It’s almost ready.”
Rhona looked away, avoiding his gaze. Self-pity enveloped her. She wasn’t one to let despair beat her. But this evening she could see nothing but a bleak future before her.
When the grouse was ready, Taran pulled the steaming meat off the bones and placed a large portion of it on an oiled cloth. He then put it on the ground beside Rhona and untied her wrists.
Her belly betrayed her, growling loudly once more. She wasn’t used to missing meals, even if this was the first time all day she’d felt hungry.
Rhona started to pick at her grouse, while Taran returned to his side of the fire and began his supper. As she ate, Rhona found her gaze kept returning to Taran.
The glow of the fire pit between them highlighted the disfiguring scars on the warrior’s face. They were old, yet deep—scars that had left thick silver ridges after the healing. His face was grim as he ate. As always, he wore that heavy mail shirt—he hadn’t even shed it during the worst of the day’s heat. The firelight glinted off the silver rings, illuminating the harsh planes of his face. Unlike a lot of her father’s men, he cut his hair very short. It was a style that only added to the austerity of his look.
Glancing up from his meal, Taran’s gaze snared hers. “Do I hold a fascination for ye, Lady Rhona?”
Rhona swallowed a mouthful of grouse, heat flaring in her cheeks at being caught staring.
Silence stretched between them, before she finally answered. “I’m sorry, Taran,” she began hesitantly. Her cheeks warmed further; apologizing didn’t come easy to Rhona MacLeod. “About what I said earlier … I know ye swore an oath when ye arrived at Dunvegan. Ye are bound to my father.”
Taran’s expression softened a little. “Aye, but that doesn’t mean I’m happy about all of this. I hate to see ye suffer.”
Rhona inclined her head. “Why did ye come after me alone?”
He pulled a face. “Yer father’s orders. He doesn’t want anyone to know ye tried to run off.”
Rhona huffed a rueful laugh. “He won’t be able to hide it.”
