Highland Spy: Highland Chronicles Series - Book 4 Page 3

  “Two days?” asked Bridget. “I thought it took three days to get to Hermitage Castle.”

  “No’ the way I’m takin’. Now stay close to me and dinna lag behind. I’d hate for ye two to get lost or to be attacked by bandits again.”

  “Dinna worry. We’ll be able to keep up,” said the girl, making Caleb groan inwardly as she fussed with her braids. She also kept looking over to her father and didn’t seem to pay much attention to Caleb at all. He could ride away right now and she’d never even notice.

  “Oh, I’m worried, all right,” he said under his breath and headed toward the gate. “Worried that by the time we get to Hermitage Castle, the competition will already be over.”

  Chapter 3

  “Please, slow down,” begged Bridget after traveling for hours at a pace that was much too fast for her father to endure for very long. While his horse basically just followed the others, and he could see far distances, that wasn’t what bothered her. She could see he was tiring and knew he needed to rest. Something happened to him about a year earlier that had affected not only his body, but also his mind lately. He’d learned to hide his disabilities, one being he often had trouble gripping on to things because of an injury with his hand. But what he couldn’t hide from her was that lately he seemed to be forgetting more and more things. That concerned her greatly. “We need to stop and rest. This is too much. Please,” she called out to Caleb.

  “Rest?” Caleb asked, looking back over his shoulder. “Nay, no’ yet. We’ve got a lot more ground to cover before the sun sets. We need to keep movin’.”

  “Aye, I have no’ even worked up a sweat yet,” called out Logan from his horse.

  “Logan, she’s right,” said Rhoswen, sticking up for Bridget. “You and Caleb might be used to riding at this speed but you need to remember that you have women and an older man along. We should stop and rest. We haven’t even had anything to eat since we left the MacKeefe camp.”

  “Fine,” growled Logan. “Caleb, the lassies need to stop.”

  “All right,” agreed Caleb. “But no’ for long. We’ll stop at the water’s edge up ahead, and grab a fast bite to eat. But then we need to keep ridin’. We’ve still got some guid hours of sunlight left and we canna waste them. I wanted to make it to the Horn and Hoof and spend the night there.”

  “The Horn and Hoof? What’s that?” asked Brigham with a chuckle.

  “Faither, ye remember,” said Bridget, trying to cover up his sudden loss of memory. “It’s the tavern that Auld Callum MacKeefe owns. We’ve been there no’ long ago.”

  “Who?” he asked, making a face.

  “Storm’s great-grandfather,” she said, losing patience with the man. She gave him a look, her eyes darting over to the others and then back to him. He finally caught on.

  “Aye, yes, of course I remember,” he said. “I’m just too tired to think straight, that’s all.”

  “Well, after a bite to eat and a stretch of yer legs, ye’ll feel better,” Caleb assured him, jumping off his horse and hurrying over to Bridget. He held out his arms to guide her from the horse, even though she’d never asked him for assistance.

  “Yes?” She looked at his arms but stayed sitting in the saddle.

  “Let me help ye from the horse,” said Caleb with a big smile, almost too eager to help. “After all, I ken how tired ye are and I would no’ want ye to fall.”

  She wanted to tell him that she wasn’t the one who was tired and that she didn’t need help dismounting her horse. Bridget felt at home atop a horse. If her father hadn’t been along, she’d be the one leading Caleb instead. She could outride him, she was sure of it. Still, she remained quiet to keep the attention off her father.

  “Thank ye,” she said, reaching out for Caleb’s shoulders for balance as his hands closed around her waist. Although Caleb wasn’t very tall, he had no trouble lifting her out of the saddle and putting her feet on the ground.

  “There ye are,” he said, still smiling. His hands lingered at her waist and she could feel the heat emanating from them. She was about to scold him for that, but when she looked up into his dark eyes staring back at her, she found herself unable to speak. He was mesmerizing so close up, and she’d never noticed this before. In his eyes, he held mystery, playfulness, and even a little lust if she wasn’t mistaken. It was almost as if he were looking straight into her soul, making her feel suddenly vulnerable and naked. Still, she liked the feeling for some odd reason. Being in his hold made her feel safe and secure. It was nothing to fear. What she saw deep in his eyes was naught but admiration and an attraction to her. It intrigued her since no man had ever looked at her in this manner before. Then again, by wearing clothes that were too big for her and constantly braiding her hair like a child, no man ever thought of her as a woman she supposed. But it was her intention to keep the men away from her. She didn’t want to be married, because it would only bring disappointment in the end.

  Bridget was so close to Caleb now that she could smell the leather from the travel bag he carried on his shoulder, and the scant scent of ale on his breath. She could also see every hair in the stubble scattered across his chin. He looked handsome and even more manly close up. Never had she noticed his chiseled features or the slight dimple in his cheek when he smiled. In the past, she’d been too focused on his silly ways, since he seemed to like making people laugh.

  Her fingers slowly grazed down his shoulders, sliding past thick, corded muscles of his upper arms before her hands stilled over his hard chest. An odd sensation flitted through her that she didn’t quite understand. She shivered slightly and lowered her eyes to the ground. Hopefully, he wouldn’t notice the blush she felt rising to her cheeks just from the feel of his hands on her waist.

  “Are ye all right, lass?” Caleb raised his bushy brows and leaned forward, trying to see into her eyes.

  “Aye, I’m fine.” She flashed a smile. “Just hungry, I think.”

  He slowly released his hold on her, and with it went the warmth of his embrace. A tinge of disappointment washed through her, making her heart flutter. Why did she feel as if she wanted him to touch her again? And why was she feeling suddenly attracted to a man that she thought of as nothing but a hindrance up until now?

  “Bridget,” said Lady Rhoswen, causing her to turn around. Logan helped his wife from the horse and she started to untie one of the travel bags. “Would you like to help me lay out the food and ale for the meal while the men tend to the horses?”

  “Aye, of course,” she said softly, heading over to Rhoswen, thinking perhaps it was better to make distance between her and Caleb for now. She needed to focus on her father and also the mission of recording events in the chronicles for the king. If her concentration wavered, she could become careless and her secret would be discovered.

  “Did I hear ye say ale?” asked Logan, gathering two of the horses to lead them down to the water to drink. “I could go for a little Mountain Magic right now.” Mountain Magic was the strong whisky that Old Callum MacKeefe brewed that was rumored to have kept him alive so long.

  “There will be plenty of that once we get to the Horn and Hoof,” said Rhoswen, handing Bridget a bundle that contained food.

  “Should we make a fire to warm up some of this food?” Bridget asked Rhoswen. Before the woman could answer, Caleb called out to her.

  “Nay, no time for a fire. We need to get back on the road.”

  Bridget’s head jerked back in surprise. Caleb was halfway down to the loch and she wasn’t even sure how he’d heard her.

  “That man hears and sees everythin’, doesna he?” she remarked in a whisper, placing the bundle on the ground and opening it to reveal the salted pork, bread, cheese, and sweetmeats inside.

  Rhoswen giggled. “Caleb always seems to know what is going on.”

  “What do ye mean by that?” Her eyes snapped upward to Rhoswen and then over to her father who was talking to himself, sitting on a rock.

  “I just meant that he’s very
aware of his surroundings, that’s all,” Rhoswen answered. “Why do you seem so jumpy? Is something wrong?”

  “Nay,” said Bridget, laying out the food. “Everythin’ is fine.”

  “He likes you.”

  “Who?” Bridget looked up at her, popping a sweetmeat into her mouth, pretending she didn’t know what the woman meant.

  “Caleb, of course.” Rhoswen brought a flask of ale over to the cloth and kneeled down and put it next to the food. “Are you telling me you didn’t notice? Everyone in the MacKeefe camp teases him because all he can think about or talk about is you.”

  “What?” Her chewing slowed as she contemplated what she’d just heard. “Really?”

  “Aye,” Rhoswen assured her, pulling the cork off the mouth piece of the flask as she spoke. “You must have noticed how he’s always around you and asking so many questions.”

  “Aye, but I thought he was just nosey.”

  Rhoswen giggled. “Aye, nosey to learn all there is to know about you.”

  “Och,” she said, swallowing forcefully, realizing this was going to pose a challenge. As much as she wanted to know more about Caleb, too, she couldn’t allow herself to get close to him. It was too risky. He could uncover her secret and that could mean death for her father, and possibly imprisonment for her as well since they’d been deceiving the king.

  “Here, have some ale.” Rhoswen handed her the flask. Bridget took a swig and looked back over her shoulder at her father, sitting alone on the rock. Her heart went out to him. He used to be such a proud and honored man. But lately, she saw his health – mentally as well as physically, quickly slipping away. Ever since Bridget’s mother died, he’d never been the same. Then, after his accident, falling off his horse and hitting his head a few months ago, his life seemed to change drastically. “I’d like to take my father some food and drink,” she said, taking a piece of salted pork and bread as well as the flask and heading over to him.

  “Bridget,” said her father, looking up and smiling at her. “What a beautiful day.”

  “Aye,” she said, handing him the food and flask. “Here is somethin’ to eat and drink. It willna be long before we’ll be back on the road again.”

  “Right,” he said with a nod, taking a sip of ale from the flask and looking up at her. “We need to get to the Highlands before it’s dark. We dinna want to encounter bandits along the way.”

  “Faither,” she said, hunkering down next to him and putting her hand on his shoulder. “We’re no’ goin’ to the Highlands. That’s where we’ve just been. Dinna ye remember that we’re headed to Hermitage Castle on the border? We’re goin’ there to record the events of the Leader of the Lairds Competition for the king. We’ll be spendin’ the night in Glasgow, at the Horn and Hoof Tavern along the way.”

  Her father slowly lowered the flask. A shadow crossed his face and he looked distraught. “Daughter, I’m no’ sure what’s happenin’ to me lately, but my memory seems to be slippin’ away.”

  “I’ll find a healer to help ye in secret once we get to the castle,” she told him. “Everythin’ will be all right.”

  “Nay, it’s too risky. I think I should stay in Glasgow and ye should go on without me.”

  Bridget let out a deep sigh. If only she could do that, she would. “Ye ken as well as I that ye need to be there with me. After all, as far as anyone – especially the king – is concerned, ye are the chronicler, no’ me. I am a woman and can never be a chronicler of the king and ye ken it.”

  “Aye, I suppose ye’re right. Do ye really think a healer can cure me?”

  “I’ve been told there are herbs to heal most ailments and conditions.”

  “But what if it doesna work?”

  Bridget’s heart sank. She’d been considering that same thing lately and had no idea what to say. “I’ll find a way to help ye, Faither, I promise ye I will. And if that doesna work, then we’ll disappear somewhere where no one can ever find us.”

  “Och!” her father jerked backwards and the food fell to the ground. Caleb’s pesky pine marten sank its teeth into the chunk of pork and hurried away, dragging it with him.

  “Get back here, ye little thief!” cried Bridget, getting up and running after the animal. She followed it down to the loch, keeping her eyes on it rather than where she was going. “I’ll teach ye a lesson for stealin’ things, I swear I will.” She was about to lunge at it when Caleb stepped out from behind a tree and she went barreling right into him. From the force, they both fell to the ground. She landed on top of him with her nose buried against his chest.

  “So we meet again,” said Caleb, the low rumble of his voice vibrating against her cheek since she was pressed up against him with all her weight. She felt his arms slip around her. When she picked up her head, her face was right in front of his. His eyes drifted down to her mouth. Then, before she knew what was happening, he kissed her!

  “Caleb, really?” Logan walked up from the water, holding the reins of the horses. “Now I ken why ye are in such a hurry to get to the Horn and Hoof. Och, ye really should have waited until ye got a room.”

  “Nay! It’s no’ what ye think,” cried Bridget, pushing up so fast that she lost her balance and fell back down on Caleb once again.

  “I’m the one who just got married but ye’d never ken it by lookin’ at ye two,” scoffed Logan, heading back to his wife.

  Caleb started laughing, and that only made Bridget angry.

  “Get away from me, ye clumsy fool!” She jumped up and so did he.

  “I’m no’ the one that pushed us to the ground,” he said, still laughing. “Although I canna say I regret it at all.”

  “Dinna touch me again!” she warned him. “Or I’ll . . . I’ll . . .”

  “Ye liked the kiss, lass, just admit it. I didna see ye fightin’ me off when we were on the ground.”

  She did like the kiss, but she’d never tell him. Her tongue shot out to lick her lips, his essence still lingering on her mouth. His eyes followed. “Stay away from me,” she warned him.

  “Stay away from ye?” He looked confused. “Did I do somethin’ to insult ye? After all, it was naught but a little kiss. I’m sorry if I made ye angry.”

  “I need to focus on my – on our work,” she said, nodding toward her father. “It’s important that we record facts and events properly for the king. I dinna need to be distracted by . . . by kisses!”

  Caleb heard Bridget’s words but he didn’t believe what she said. He wasn’t blind. She liked him and she enjoyed the kiss, there was no doubt about it. Once again, she wet her lips with her tongue, subconsciously verifying his suspicion.

  “If ye’re so repelled by my kiss, then why do ye keep savorin’ the taste of me by lickin’ yer lips?”

  “I’m doin’ nothin’ of the sort.” She crossed her arms over her chest. This time, instead of licking her lips, she bit at her bottom lip, making him squirm. It seemed like such a seductive action.

  “If ye’re so eager to collect information for that silly book of yers, then write somethin’ in there about me,” he told her.

  “Ye?” She laughed, unnerving him. “What on earth would I possibly write about the likes of ye? This is a book to record the heroic deeds and actions of the MacKeefes and other Highlanders. Ye see, ye need to do somethin’ worthy in order to get yer name mentioned in the Highland Chronicles.”

  “And ye dinna think I’m worthy of it?” Caleb perused her, narrowing his eyes.

  “What have ye done that is worth mentionin’?”

  “Lots of things,” he told her.

  “Like what?” she met his challenge. Her blue eyes drilled into him and, all of a sudden, he was tongue-tied and unable to speak let alone think.

  “Well I . . . there’s the time that I . . . and I always . . . I mean . . .”

  “That’s what I thought,” she sniffed, turning and heading away. This didn’t sit right with Caleb. He ran up behind her, grabbing her arm and spinning her around. Her eyes opened
wide in surprise. “What are ye doin’?” She glared at him now. “Release me at once.”

  “No’ until ye promise to mention me in the Highland Chronicles.”

  “Oh, ye’ll be mentioned, all right.”

  “I will?” His grasp loosened.

  “Aye, but what I’ll tell my faither to write about ye willna be heroic or admirable at all.”

  “Ye wouldna do that. Ye’d better no’.” His grip tightened again and his jaw clenched. A vein throbbed at the side of his neck as he imagined all the lies she’d have her father write about him. That would be worse than not getting mentioned in the Highland Chronicles at all!

  “Dinna threaten me, Caleb MacKeefe. Now leave me alone before ye find yer name on those pages after all, in a no’-so-bonnie way. And while ye’re at it, get that weasel of yers to stop stealin’ our food.” She turned on her heel and stormed away, leaving Caleb standing there with his mouth hanging open.

  “What’s all the yellin’ about?” asked Logan, making his way over to Caleb and glancing back over his shoulder at Bridget. “Did ye have a lover’s spat already?”

  “She’s no’ my lover,” he said through gritted teeth. “I’m startin’ to see how irritatin’ she is, just like ye and the others keep tellin’ me.”

  “I wouldna call her irritatin’,” said Logan in thought. “More like . . . a thorn in the side at times. What happened? I thought ye were infatuated with her?”

  “No’ anymore,” he said, looking around for Slink. “Now, I canna wait to get the shrew and her faither to Hermitage Castle and leave as fast as I can.”

  “Sounds guid to me,” said Logan with a shrug. “I never wanted to escort them to the Lowlands to begin with.”

  “I’m startin’ to think that mayhap Bridget Ogilvy isna the lass I thought her to be.” Caleb turned and headed down to the loch where he saw Slink sitting on a rock, eating something.

  “Does that mean she’s no’ goin’ to mention ye in the chronicles after all?” Logan called out after him. “If no’, ye owe me some money, because that means I won the bet.”