“I was going to stay the night on my way home,” he said, “but they told me half the castle was ill with some pestilence and sent me away.”
“They lied to ye,” she said, reaching her hand up to him. “We must hurry before they notice I’m gone.”
Ian hoisted her up in front of him. Though her back stung like the devil, she leaned against him and sighed. She was safe.
She’d missed Ian these last months when he was off at the Scottish court and fighting on the border. This felt like old times, when she was a wee girl and Ian was always helping her out of one scrape or another.
But she was in trouble as never before. If she’d had a doubt about how dire her situation was, seeing the Green Lady hover over her bed weeping was a clear warning.
When Ian turned the horse back in the direction of the castle, she jerked upright and spun around to face him. “What are ye doing?”
“I’m taking ye back,” Ian said. “I’m no going to be accused of kidnapping.”
“But ye must get me away! The bastard intends to marry me to the worst of the MacKinnons.”
“Mind your tongue,” Ian said. “Ye shouldn’t call your step-da a bastard.”
“You’re no listening to me. The man is going to make me wedAngus MacKinnon.”
Ian stopped his horse. “Ye must be mistaken. Even your bastard of a step-da wouldn’t do that. All the same, I promise I’ll tell my da and uncle what ye said.”
“I’ll tell them myself when ye take me to them.”
Ian shook his head. “I’m no starting a clan war by stealing ye away. Even if what ye say is true, there will be no wedding soon. You’re a child yet.”
“I’m no child,” Sìleas said, folding her arms. “I’m thirteen.”
“Well, you’ve got no breasts,” Ian said, “and no man is going to want to marry ye until ye do—Oof!No need to jab me with that pointy elbow of yours just for speaking the truth.”
Sìleas fought against the sting in her eyes. After all that had happened to her today, this was hard to bear—especially coming from the man she planned to marry.
“If ye won’t help me, Ian MacDonald, I’ll walk.”
When she tried to slide down off the horse, Ian caught and held her. He took her face in his hand and rubbed his thumb lightly across her cheek—which made it devilishly difficult not to cry.
“I don’t mean to hurt your feelings, little one,” he said. “Ye can’t go off on your own. It’s a long way to the next house, and it’s near dark.”
“I’m no going back to the castle,” she said.
“I suppose if I take ye back, you’ll just sneak out the secret passageway again?”
“I will,” she said.
Ian sighed and turned his horse. “Then we’d best move fast. But if I’m hung for kidnapping, it’ll be on your head.”
Ian stopped to make camp when it grew too dark to see. If he didn’t have Sìleas with him, he’d be tempted to continue. But his family’s home was a fair distance yet, and it was risky to ride in the black of night.
He handed Sìleas half of his oatcakes and cheese, and they ate in silence. There would be hell to pay for this, all because she let that imagination of hers run wild again.
He glanced sideways at her. Poor Sìl. Her beautiful name, pronounced with a soft “Shh,” like a whisper in the ear, mocked her. She was a pathetic, scrawny thing with teeth too big for her and unruly red hair so bright it hurt the eyes. Even once she had breasts, no man was going to wed her for her looks.
At least she’d washed the mud off her face.
Ian rolled out his blanket and gave her a warning look. “Lie down and don’t say a word.”
“ ’Tis no my fault—”
“It is,” he said, “though ye know verra well no one is going to blame you.”