With a sigh, he reached to untie the cord and watched as she crossed to another clump of bushes, this one at the edge of the woods growing in the shelter of the hill. Heaven forbid the stubborn wench should take his suggestion about anything, even where she relieved herself.
It took Callum a few moments to see to his own needs and check Kelpie, who had endured hard riding tonight. When he put down the horse’s hoof, it struck him that the girl seemed to be taking a long time.
"Mistress Drummond?"
A suspiciously long time.
"Mistress Drummond?" he asked again more loudly, even as he cursed himself for a gullible fool. Now he had a good idea why she’d chosen the bushes close to the thick wood.
He strode across to where she been. A quick glance told him she was long gone.
A pox on it, he couldn't fail. Not now. This was his only chance to achieve his aims. If the Drummond heiress made her way back to Bruard Castle, he'd never get another opportunity to snatch her.
Even worse, she was a long way from home and a thousand dangers loomed along her way. How she’d laugh to know he was sick with worry over her wellbeing. How she must be laughing now at what a buffle-headed nodcock he was to let her play such a trick.
He’d never find her in the wood, not in the middle of the night and with the ground beneath the trees as dark as a pit in Hades. But the hills around them were bare. If she broke out of the trees, he'd see her all right. And she was a stranger to this country, while he had the advantage of knowing the ground.
/> Keeping an eye on the encircling braes, he went back to Kelpie. "Well, old girl, looks like our wee bird has flown. Let’s head back home and fetch a search party. We'll find her before she gets far, by God."
He spoke loudly enough for his voice to carry over the still air. Likely the lassie was too smart to believe he’d give up so easily, but luring her into a false sense of security could work to his advantage.
He rose into Kelpie's saddle and guided the horse up the hillside to the west. Once they dipped out of sight, he galloped across the ridge to the path leading east.
There was a cave at the pass, giving a view over the glen, including the wood and the braes. Bonny Mhairi had chosen the worst place to disappear, at least from her perspective. From his, the terrain was perfect for trapping a runaway. Cliffs lined the glen, apart from the one path leading through it, the path he’d pretended to take. Once she broke away from the trees, the girl had few options.
Of course, she could have got through the pass before he noticed her gone, but she'd need to be fleet as Atalanta to manage that.
No, he was willing to wager his clan's future on his captive hunkering down in some hollow in the wood. Come daybreak, she'd venture out and make her way back to her home.
A faint admiring smile curled his lips as he led Kelpie into the cave and settled down at the entrance in wait.
Chapter 3
As the hours rolled on, punctuated by the rumbling of her empty stomach, Mhairi had plenty of time to regret her proud rejection of the Mackinnon’s food. A night in the forest also reminded her that she'd left home dressed for a sunny afternoon, not for the chill that descended after the sun went down this far north, even in summer. She struggled not to think about how warm she’d felt crushed up against a brawny chest.
She'd heard her captor swear when he discovered she’d scarpered. Recalling his angry frustration had provided a modicum of warmth through the night. She also heard him talk to that great gray brute of a horse about heading home to put together a search party. At first, she’d been convinced he was trying to trick her into making a dash for it, while he lay in wait.
From where she crouched behind a fallen Scots pine, she'd watched him ride away toward the west. That was hours ago, and she’d seen neither hide nor hair of him since. Instinct told her that he'd gone to enormous trouble to get her. He wouldn't relinquish her so easily.
Now the early summer dawn rose to the east, the direction she needed to go. That seemed a good omen. She couldn't lurk in this grove for the rest of her life. If the Mackinnon did mean to come back with a band of his despicable kinsmen, full daylight meant he’d find her hiding place within minutes.
No, she had to take the gamble and head for Bruard. With luck, her father would realize immediately that Mackinnon machinations lay behind her disappearance and she’d meet up with a party of her kinsmen before too long.
As Mhairi unfolded herself from her shelter, she bit back a groan. It had been an uncomfortable night. She brushed pine needles from her plaid skirts and limped toward the edge of the trees. She was desperately thirsty but couldn't risk turning back to the burn. With luck, she’d find another burn once she made it past the pass.
The climb out of the glen was steep, and she paused, winded, at the top. Below extended another glen that looked exactly like the one she'd just left. It suddenly occurred to her how easy it would be to get lost in this maze of hills, despite her brave words to her kidnapper when he warned her of the risk.
"Courage, Mhairi," she whispered and trudged on, past an outcrop of rock. On the next stretch of the path, a tall, dark-haired man stood squarely in front of her. He held the gray horse’s reins in a loose grip.
Fear, anger, disappointment, and a grim sense of inevitability struck blow after blow, and she faltered to an unsteady stop. Oh, no, no, no. He'd tie her up like a beast and put her on that big horse and wrap his arms around her. And his touch would be as cool and uninvolved as if he shifted a piece of furniture.
Hold on. Was she completely out of her head? She almost sounded like she minded his impersonal treatment of her.
"Mackinnon…" she whispered on a breath of loathing.
"Good morrow, Mistress Drummond. I trust ye passed a restful night."
The devil…