The Devil of Jedburgh (11 page)

Then it was time to leave.

Arran lifted her up onto Angel and, with a final wave, Breghan rode from Castle Donague, flanked by Arran on one side and his two men on the other. They were a small travelling party and Arran was clearly in a hurry. Breghan didn’t mind. Her travelling gown had a slit that allowed her to ride astride rather than side-saddle. Her spirits lifted as she grabbed the reins, put her head down and spurred Angel into a gallop across McAllen fields and along the river path until they joined the main road. Then Arran took the lead with his men bringing up the rear.

The well-trodden road made for good time and all too soon they were slowing down to pass through the narrow streets of Hightown.

Arran pulled up alongside her. “You have an excellent seat. Who taught you to ride astride?”

Breghan pulled her gaze from the familiar ramshackle of shop fronts to smile at him. “You forget I have twelve brothers.”

His wry grin made her regret her words. Of course he hadn’t forgotten. But not even the heritage that had enticed him to McAllen’s daughter could convince him to take a hoyden like her to proper wife. Which suited her fine, Breghan reminded herself.

Arran handed her a flask of ale. “I’m surprised McAllen allows it.”

“He didn’t.” Breghan sipped deeply, not realising how thirsty she was until the cool ale hit her throat. “Until I fell off the side-saddle so many times, Papa feared for my clumsy life.”

Arran’s eyes appraised her. “You ride as if you were born to it. I can’t imagine you being clumsy on a horse, whatever your seat.”

“Neither can I.” Her smile turned coy as she gave the flask back.

Arran laughed out loud.

“I trust you with my secret.”

He placed a hand on his chest. “I’ll guard it well.”

His gaze warmed through her and in that moment Breghan felt a deep contentment and rightness seep into her bones. Arran Kerr had a mischievous streak that spoke to her heart. With laughter in his eyes and a grin softening the craggy ridges of his cheekbones and jaw, there was a sudden glimpse of a man she might be willing to entrust with all her secrets, for the rest of her life.

But then they were on the open ride once more, riding at a neck-breaking pace, leaving behind the last familiar territory, and her contentment faded. She glanced over her shoulder often, catching a last glimpse of the edge of town, a last glimpse of the mound that cut the town from sight, a last glimpse of the woods that spread south and then dwindled into open grassy fields.

Breghan had never been further than Hightown, and a longing for home and family grew with every mile. The terrain changed slightly, becoming more hilly as they travelled south, the far-off mountains looming closer.

When the main road veered toward the River Tiviot once again, Arran took them down a gentle slope to the water and brought the party to a halt. Duncan helped her dismount before Arran could reach her and Breghan groaned in sweet relief as her feet touched the ground.

Arran grabbed Angel’s rein and led the mare to the water with his stallion. Broderick followed with the remaining two horses. Apparently Duncan had been left with the task of tending to her.

“The laird rides too hard,” Duncan muttered. He held her arm, as if afraid she might collapse, and shook his head. “Your bones must be near shattered, m’lady.”

Breghan gave him a reassuring smile. She’d long since given up on trying to get Duncan to call her by her given name. “I’m accustomed to riding hard.”

Although maybe not quite so far for quite so long. Her thighs were stiff and her backside felt as if it had grown horns.

She resisted his attempts to seat her on a fallen log. “I need to stretch my legs. Are we still a long way from Ferniehirst?”

“About twenty miles,” he said. “At this pace, we’ll be home before sundown.”

“That should make your laird a happy man.” Nothing, it seemed, not even sleeping the morning away, could get in the way of his iron will.

“Aye, ’twas why he insisted we ride light and McAllen send the cart with your baggage separately. Arran didna want his wife sleeping on the open ground.”

“He didn’t seem to mind the other night. If I recall, he demanded it.”

“Aye, m’lady, but that night he didna know…” Duncan blushed and his gaze dropped to his boots.

Breghan put a hand to his shoulder. “Duncan, I’m truly sorry for my deception. I’ve made an awkward mess of everything.”

His eyes shot up to her. “You’ve naught to apologise for.”

She might have protested, but Arran was approaching with a cluster of flasks in one hand and the food, bundled in waterproof leather, tucked under his arm. Broderick had taken hold of Angel’s lead and the other horses were left free to drink from the river or graze.

“Angel won’t bolt,” she told him.

Arran studied her, as if her face held some inner truth, then he turned to call out, “Broderick, leave the mare to roam and come eat.”

Broderick didn’t need a second invitation.

The simple meal of fresh bread, hard cheese and Annie’s mutton pies tasted doubly delicious after the strenuous exercise. The men sat cross-legged on the ground and Breghan perched on the log so she could flex the stiffness from her legs. The scene was reminiscent of the day she’d first met Arran, yet much had changed. Then, she’d been running from the man. Today, she’d embraced her own future and was here within the narrow confines of what could be classified as free will.

And some things remained unchanged. Trepidation pinched Breghan’s gut as she watched the three men—three strangers—eat and drink in silence. Arran looked up and caught her staring at him. His gaze was soft and warm and a smile quirked a dimple at his chin.

She quickly dropped her eyes and broke off a crust of bread to pop into her mouth. Arran had been cordial today; she couldn’t fault his behaviour. She’d seen enough of the man to know the worst of the rumours about the Devil of Jedburgh were false. She’d seen enough of the man to suspect the lesser rumours may well be true. Arran Kerr had a formidable temper that never seemed to last long. The rage came and went like a summer storm, but when it was high, it was fierce enough to turn green eyes to slate and mould darkness into the crevices of his face. He could be stubborn and Breghan only had to recall their previous arguments to doubt she’d ever sway him to her reasoning, or any logical reasoning, if the need arose.

There was Ferniehirst too; she knew naught of his people and how she’d be received. It was easy to be brave and make bold decisions, Breghan reflected, from within the comfort of your home.

She washed the crust of bread down with a swallow of ale, scooped up a few red apples and jumped to her feet. “The horses have earned a treat.”

She fed Angel from her hand, then walked tentatively to Duncan’s stallion. The greedy horse gulped the apple down and nuzzled her hand for more. She fed him a second apple before turning to see where the other horses had wandered.

Arran was right behind her. “We can rest awhile longer if you wish.”

She offered him a smile. “I’m not as fragile as I might appear and then there’s your ‘no mercy’ rule.”

He gave that shrug, and Breghan was surprised to find it didn’t bother her nearly so much today. “We’ve made good time so far.”

“I’m fine, Arran, feel free to set whatever pace you must.”

He reached out to tip her chin beneath his knuckles. “You’re not fine. When you were sitting on the log, your face lost all colour and your shoulders slumped as if life itself was seeping from your body.”

“You’re very observant,” she murmured, searching his gaze for a sign of mockery and finding none.

“Whatever has gone before, Bree, I wish for you to be happy in our time together. If the mere thought of riding on so soon again tires you, we’ll rest longer.”

“That isn’t…” She turned her head so his knuckles fell away from her chin. “’Tis only… I’m being silly, but I’ve never been this far from Donague. The prospect of what awaits becomes more daunting by the mile. I made this choice and blame no one but myself. That doesn’t make the unknown any easier to bear.” She blinked back a tear brought on by his kindness and strolled in the direction of his stallion.

He didn’t follow, although Breghan felt his gaze on her as she fed the rest of the apples to the horses. When she was done and heading back to their makeshift picnic, Arran still stood at the muddy riverbank where she’d left him, watching her with a frown on his brow.

She changed direction and went to stand before him. She needed one less unknown to face. “What do you want from me, Arran? Why did you agree to this handfasting once you knew I’d manipulated both you and your noble intentions?”

“I placed the decision in your hands and I’m a man of my word.”

“I believe you are.” She gave a weary sigh. “No one would have thought less of you had you walked away after what transpired in my father’s chamber.”

He looked her in the eye for a moment so long, she thought he wouldn’t speak. When he did, it was no answer at all. “You must truly love him.”

“My father?”

Arran shook his head. “This Alexander Gordon, the man you bartered your soul for.”

“You make it out to be so dramatic.”

“You thought I was the devil,” he reminded her.

“Perhaps I still think you are.” She softened her teasing with a smile, then grew serious. “Last night you were furious—you had every right to be mad and walk away. I don’t understand. I don’t know why we’re here. I don’t know what you want from me.”

“How quickly you forget.” He lifted a strand of hair that hung over her shoulder and threaded it through his fingers. “I want you, Bree. I wanted you since I first set eyes on you. I wished more time with you.”

Breghan snorted. “You have too much pride to want a woman while you believe her passion lies elsewhere.”

“That was my first reaction, I admit.” He dropped the strand of her hair to fold his arms across his chest. “Somewhere between last night and this morn…” Another dismissive shrug. “What I offer is temporary, a brief interlude in your life. I canna say I like the idea, and yet I do find some measure of comfort that your future happiness is secured.”

“So you’re quite willing to allow yourself to be used like—like a what? Like a night stop at an inn along my travels?” Her eyes went wide in disbelief. A moment later his gaze darkened and she changed her mind.
Of course, why should he care where my heart and passion lies? I’m the night stop along the road, not him.
He was the one who wanted a brief encounter, had originally insisted on a handfasting instead of marriage. “No man is that honourable or selfless, Arran. You want a dalliance with no regret or guilt. Once again, I’ve given you exactly what you most wanted.”

“You have such fire, sweetling.” To her irritation, he smiled a smile that chased the slate from his eyes and warmed her toes. His voice turned husky. “Did I happen to mention how verra much I dinna like the idea of your Alexander Gordon?”

Breghan felt her resistance crumble. She still didn’t trust his motives entirely, but when he smiled like that, when he spoke with that whiskey-rolled-over-honey-oats burr… She closed her eyes and started to count to ten. When she got to three, she gave in and opened her eyes again. “I’m not in love with Alexander Gordon. He was only at Donague for three days and I’ve spent less time alone with him than I have with you.”

A scowl returned to Arran’s brow. “You fought so hard to win an opportunity to be with this man.”

“To be with a man such as him.” Her gaze went over Arran’s shoulder to the sharp definition of mountains that had never been more than a blurred outline on the horizon from Castle Donague’s battlements. “Alexander has a refined manner. I never knew such men existed. The way he looked at me, as if I were an exotic blossom to be adored… The way he listened, as if every word from my mouth was a treasure to be stored close to his heart…”

Heat rushed up her throat as Breghan realised how foolishly romantic she must appear, and yet it seemed too important to stop now. Using Arran to bargain for some freedom over her future was acceptable, since he’d demanded the handfasting to begin with. Using him to seek a future with an established lover was hard and callous. Arran had to know that she’d embraced the first and would despise the last.

Breghan brought her gaze back to Arran’s face. “If I’m in love, ’tis with the picture Alexander conjured of living in the city of Edinburgh. The thought of coming down to break my fast in the morn without tripping over two dozen bodies smelling of sweat, ale, whiskey and worse. Shops right outside his townhouse that have everything from silks from Byzantine to spices from Constantinople. Banquets and balls and supper with our Queen Mary.” Her voice pitched and she couldn’t help it. “Can you possibly imagine how exciting that would be? I’ve never been further than Hightown, but one day, perhaps… There’s no reason I couldn’t find a city-dwelling man to take me to wife.”

Arran’s lips strained—from laughter or anger?

Did he think her shallow and silly? There was more, so much more than shopping and supper parties that had invaded her dreams. “He studied history of music in Paris and composed a tune on his lute while gazing into my eyes. If I’m in love,” she ended softly, “’tis with a man, any man, who could cherish me, mayhap not above all else, but certainly above drinking and cursing and tossing maids’ skirts when he thinks no one is looking on.”

Arran shouted out an abrupt laugh. “What would you know of tossing maids’ skirts?”

“You forget I have twelve brothers.”

This time, Breghan didn’t regret the reference. She was innocent, not naïve, and it could do no harm for Arran to know that. Of all her brothers, she loved Callum the most. And she knew he loved Eliza. Hadn’t he given Eliza everything she’d ever wanted? A cottage on the furthest McAllen field because she demanded privacy and space? Breghan had been angry, hurt on Eliza’s behalf, when she’d come across Callum in the stable with one of the maids…until she’d realised that was just the way of man.

Arran’s expression turned grim. “Your brothers should behave with more discretion.”