The Lover

Under cover of misty darkness, Sabrina urged her sturdy Highland pony along the hazardous trail beside Geordie’s mount, the swirling fog muffling the animal’s hoofbeats.

Niall would be vexed to discover she was acting counter to his wishes. Yet she could not possibly have endured the suspense, waiting tamely at home, fretting while he led her Duncan clansmen on a retaliatory raid against the enemy Buchanans. The tension would have driven her mad. Particularly since she was to blame. She felt responsible for the recent assault on her clan, and desperately wanted to make amends.

Her grandfather at least understood her compunction. When she had applied to Angus, he’d granted her permission to accompany the reivers, so long as she didn’t get in anyone’s way. In truth, he seemed gratified by her concern. Cattle raiding was a rudiment of every Highlander’s education, but more critically, Angus wished her to see how urgently Clan Duncan needed a leader to unite them against the Buchanans.

Niall was right about her participation, Sabrina knew. Her inexperience would likely prove more hindrance than help to her kinsmen. But she would do nothing more than observe.

The talk at supper had been all about the impending raid. Geordie, who lived above the mews at Banesk, was to accompany Liam and several other Duncans to join the McLaren at midnight at the edge of Buchanan land. A dozen men only would carry out the raid, the better to maintain stealth.

With a casualness she didn’t feel, Sabrina questioned Geordie about the plan.

“We’ll ride against bloody Owen Buchanan himself,” her cousin divulged with relish, “and claim our cattle under his very nose.”

Geordie’s enthusiasm for the task was evident. A moonlit cattle raid was a Highlander’s favorite sport, but vengeance against the Buchanan added a prime enticement.

Sabrina couldn’t share the pleasure of wreaking havoc upon a rival, even one who had deceived and betrayed her. In truth, the recent turn of events dismayed her. To many Scots clans, a feud was more game than war, but she feared the conflict with the Buchanans would never end till the Highlands ran with blood.

Her apprehension increased as the hour drew near. After supper she busied herself finding the proper attire. Then, dressed as a lad, she went down to the stables in advance to await Geordie’s coming.

Now she rode beside him, nerves raw, heart thudding.

The darkness held an uncanny chill. The night was shrouded in veils of gray mist, the midnight sky lit only by a thin sliver of moon. Shivering, Sabrina drew her borrowed Duncan plaid more tightly about her and wished she’d dared bring Rab along. She had left the dejected animal behind, knowing she couldn’t control him if events got out of hand.

When they heard the quiet murmur of voices up ahead, Geordie drew his horse to a halt, and Sabrina followed suit.

“Ye’ll stay here, out o’ sight,” Geordie whispered. “Niall willna be glad to see ye.”

“Yes, certainly.”

He rode on, while Sabrina slipped quietly to the ground. Inching forward, she found a place to observe, taking care to remain hidden by thick-growing bushes of gorse and bracken.

The small band of Highland raiders was armed to the teeth.

In addition to the Duncans, she recognized John McLaren, Niall’s second in command, and his cousin Colm. And of course Niall himself. When a shaft of moonlight touched his features, Sabrina felt her heart give a feminine jolt. She suspected she would never grow accustomed to his rugged masculine beauty.

From their muted conversation, she deduced that Colm had already scouted out Buchanan land.

“’Twill be easy pickings,” the Highlander asserted.

“Perhaps too easy,” Niall replied. “I find their laxness hard to credit. Their cattle should be better guarded. Owen kens we’ll strike back and soon.”

“It could be a ruse to trap us,” Liam Duncan offered.

“Indeed.” Despite his grim tone, Niall grinned, his teeth a white glimmer in so much dark and shadow. “Yet trap or no, we’ll show the bloody Buchanans the folly of plundering Duncan herds.”

Sabrina shivered at the note of satisfaction in his voice, suspecting that at that moment at least, his love of danger almost rivaled his love of women.

The Highlanders spoke for a few moments more, refining their plans and strategies in case of discovery, and then turned to their horses. Seeing Geordie wave furtively to her, Sabrina waited till they had ridden off before remounting and following at a careful distance. In the swirling mist, she was required to give her full attention to the treacherous terrain. The rocky land dipped and twisted between craggy hills and ink-black forests, but she knew they were headed for the massive stronghold that was Owen Buchanan’s lair.

She judged it nearly an hour later when she heard the quiet rasp of steel as the Highlanders drew their broadswords. Halting her mount on a rise, Sabrina glimpsed a shadowed valley below, where herds of shaggy cattle grazed.

Her kinsmen rode silently forward, but she remained where she was, taking refuge behind a copse of junipers, where she could watch the proceedings. She held her breath as the men passed a crofter’s hut, her vision straining for any sign of danger among the ghostly cowsheds and haystacks. Appearances were deceptive in the obscuring fog, she knew, yet strangely there was no evidence that the Buchanan herds were guarded.

The raiders spread out and melded with the mist, their dark outlines fading from view. Sabrina felt her heart thudding as she waited in the taut silence.

They must have managed to cull out some two hundred head of cattle, for a short while later she saw a herd of softly lowing beasts moving slowly toward the north, driven by the raiders. They would not return home by the most direct route, Sabrina remembered overhearing. Niall meant to send the others back by a different path while he waited with Liam Duncan to fend off any pursuit.

When they disappeared from view, Sabrina let out a breath of relief. The raid had gone so easily, precisely according to plan.