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Mhairi made herself smile, although with every minute, it became harder to find the will to leave this room and go with Sheena. But she was a Drummond and she owed her family her first loyalty.

"Thank you. And I wish ye every blessing."

A brief hug before Sheena's hand fastened on her arm and tugged her away. "Nae more blethering. Let's go."

"Farewell, Flossie."

As she turned toward the door, she blinked back tears. She wasn't crying because she left her friend, but because tonight she’d teetered on the brink of something magical. Now she turned her back on that possibility and returned to her old life. Whatever wonders this last day had promised, they were forever lost to her.

"God keep ye, mistress." Flossie, lucky girl, had no reason to hide that she was crying.

***

Mhairi and Sheena rode higher and higher up the steep brae behind Achnasheen. Two sturdy ponies had waited for them, tethered outside the castle gate. Sel the Red had been useful indeed, it seemed. So close to midsummer, eerie twilight surrounded them.

As Mhairi turned back to watch Achnasheen retreating behind her and transforming into a toy castle beside the shining loch, she said a silent prayer for the wellbeing of everyone within its walls. If her thoughts dwelled too long on one particular dark-haired ruffian, well, that was between her and her Maker.

"We’re no’ heading east," she said when they paused on the ridge to catch their breath.

Sheena cast her a look of dislike, but answered readily enough. "If we take the road out of the glen, it's too easy for the Mackinnon to catch up with us. This way winds across the hills and joins up with a drovers’ track that leads to Bruard."

"I see." She bit back any other questions. She didn't want Sheena in a temper and abandoning her in this wilderness.

But really she didn't see. Surely speed was more important at this stage than subterfuge. Yet they took this circuitous way north when Bruard lay in a direct line east from Achnasheen.

They rode on for another hour, the early summer sun rising to light their way. The tracks became narrower and narrower. For the last twenty minutes, they'd followed a precipitous path along the face of a cliff.

She and Sheena no longer rode side-by-side. There was no room to do anything but proceed single file. Mhairi was a good rider – Drummond weans were placed on a horse before they could walk – but even she couldn't contain a spurt of alarm every time a pebble fell down the hillside behind her on a seemingly endless plunge. If the stocky Highland ponies made the smallest misstep, disaster would follow.

As they traveled, the thunder of a waterfall up ahead grew louder and louder. By the time they reached a flat ridge above the roaring cataract, the noise was so deafening, Sheena had to shout to make herself heard.

"We'll rest the ponies here." She slid out of the saddle and came across to grab Mhairi's bridle.

"When do we turn east?" Mhairi didn't move. "We're still heading north."

"One more ridge to climb, and we'll reach the track I told ye about. I’ll turn back there. Ye can make your way home from there without my help."

"Are ye leaving me the pony?"

"Aye."

Mhairi dismounted. It wasn't far to

the ground, but after a couple of hours in the saddle, she was stiff. She stumbled and when she caught her balance she looked up to see Sheena holding a wicked-looking knife.

Fear chilled every cell in her body, but she felt no real surprise. Flossie was right. What a gullible fool she’d been to imagine Sheena meant to see her safely off Mackinnon lands.

"What are ye playing at?" she asked sharply, although now it was too late to do anything about it, it was all too clear that Sheena meant her harm.

"I'm making sure ye cause no more trouble," Sheena said coldly. "Step away from yon pony."

The horse sidled and gave an uneasy wicker, picking up the tense atmosphere. Mhairi caught the rein and turned to jump into the saddle, but Sheena jerked forward and slashed at her arm. She cried out, and the pony bucked out of reach with a terrified whinny.

Pain jolted Mhairi, as she faced Sheena more in disbelief than anger. "Ye mean to murder me in cold blood?"

Sheena betrayed no shame at the stark question. Her eyes blazing with hatred, she stared at Mhairi. "I didnae murder ye. As far as the world is concerned, ye got out of the castle alone, took off across the hills, mistook your way, and ended up falling down the Mare's Tail to your death. How verra sad."

The flatness of her tone as she spoke over the waterfall's roar was more chilling than if she'd ranted. Even more horrible, the story was plausible.


Tags: Anna Campbell The Lairds Most Likely Historical