And then suddenly her hem snagged upon a gnarled tree root. She muttered an oath, trying to jerk it free, and those precious lost seconds were to her misfortune. Within the instant, she was surrounded by scowling Scotsmen. And then once again she was confronted by the MacKinnon, his son no longer in the saddle before him.
He dismounted, his expression black as he came toward her. Page thought he might strike her, so purposeful was his stride, but he didn’t. She didn’t cower as he reached out, though he merely seized her hem and jerked it free, then stood staring at her furiously. “You’re going to make me sorely regret this!”
Page smiled fiercely. “I surely will!” she vowed, drawing herself up to her full height. Again it struck her how tall the man was, for she reached only to his chin, and she was not, by any means, diminutive. In truth, her father had always thought her much too long limbed for a woman.
“I should bluidy well let you go!” he swore, his jaw working angrily.
Page’s brows lifted, for he truly seemed to be considering the prospect. “You should?”
“Aye,” he said, “and count myself bluidy fortunate that you’re gone, but I won’t!”
He wished to let her go? But he wouldn’t? Page didn’t understand. “Nay?”
“Nay!”
Her heart hammered wildly over the faint suspicion that reared. “Why not?”
“Because my da raised himself a rattlebrained arse!” he swore “That’s why!” And if his pronouncement hadn’t been shocking enough, he lifted her up suddenly, as though she were no more than a sack of grain, and bore back her to his mount, flinging her unceremoniously over his saddle.
Page shrieked in outrage, and then gasped as the air was driven from her lungs. Without preamble, he mounted behind her, holding her fast with an arm, and then lifted her up to scoot forward, pinioning her to his lap with the inescapable strength in his arm. Jesu, but the man must be made of stone, unyielding as he was!
“You will sorely regret this!” Page swore. “I will see to it with every waking breath I take!” How dare the brute treat her as though she were nothing more than chattel to be absconded with at will! How dare he keep her from her father! She couldn’t bear it! All her life she’d waited for this moment, prayed for it, only to lose it by a sordid twist of fate. “I will plague you every day of your miserable life!” she vowed.
“I have no doubt of that,” he said tightly, and spurred his mount. “I’m merely a man, lass. Keep wiggling that backside so insistently, and I’ll be sorely tempted, I assure you!”
Page gasped in outrage.
“Gather your belongings!” he commanded his men. “We leave at once!”
To Page’s consternation, it took them little time at all to gather their possessions—barbarians that they were, they traveled with little more than the breacans they wore belted about their bodies. They were off within minutes.
Page refused to allow herself to feel defeat.
For all of her twenty years she had fended for herself. If it was the last thing she did, she was going to find her way home. In the meantime, she fully intended to keep her word. The MacKinnon, indeed, was going to be a miserable man!
Spring came late to the northern reaches.
Biding her time, observing the differences in the landscape as they traveled northward, Page tried not to think of the risk her father had taken on her behalf. What would King Henry do to him when he discovered that her father had given up the boy for her? And then had promptly lost her, as well?
Why hadn’t he sent men to see to her return?
How could he have trusted the word of a Scotsman?
Curse the MacKinnon! The ignoble wretch!
The trees now were less abundant with foliage. A few were lush with new green growth; some sprouted new leaves that reminded Page of green feathers. Some trees were as yet bare, still to be touched by God’s masterful hand and miraculous paint.
She had always loved the land.
A wildling, her father had called her. It didn’t matter; it had never disturbed her in the least that he’d thought her so, for she’d always felt more as though she were Nature’s child than his. In truth, it was the only time she ever felt truly whole—when she was at one with God’s earth. That was the reason she’d stolen away from the castle all those many nights. It gave her soul great peace.
But it was also the reason she was in this damnable predicament.
Page frowned as she thought of the man seated so intimately at her back. She’d managed to shut him out of her thoughts for most of the morning. Only when he so arrogantly drew her back against him did she deign to acknowledge him, elbowing him and shrugging free to sit forward once more. The more distance she was able to place between them, the more at ease she felt.