The MacKinnon’s Bride(59)

Knowing Angus would be watching, she took great pains to remain in the same spot, and didn’t dare wait too long before resurfacing. She didn’t intend for Angus to call the guards after her. On the contrary, her intent was to stay under longer and longer, until he lost interest.

Until she deemed it long enough a time to make that mad swim toward freedom.

He was staring anxiously when she resurfaced for the second time, but Page continued on, pretending to bathe, until at last it seemed he was not quite so suspicious. She dunked herself a few more times for good measure, and on the final time found him busy speaking with Kerwyn and Kermichil.

Knowing her time was limited, Page made her final dunk beneath the water’s surface. This time, she dove deep and propelled herself in the direction of the horses, praying to God that her direction was not wrong. She knew instinctively this would be her only opportunity.

She swam with her eyes open, despite the sting of the cold, and swam with all her might, hoping her path wasn’t visible from the water’s surface.

When she reached the bank, she surfaced slowly, praying for the cover of foliage, and nearly died with relief and joy when she found herself in the very heart of the leafy enclosure and heard the soft nickering and chewing of horses at their leisure.

Thank God! She’d made it!

Thus far.

She knew her time was short, and she still needed to steal a mount without their noticing—else she’d not get very far. She wasted little time worrying about the probability of being caught, for she had precious little time to spare. Any moment Angus would sound the alarm. Even as she slipped from the water, she kept expecting to hear his cranky old bellow.

She made her way quickly through the trees and bushes, not daring even to risk a glance in Angus’s direction.

She wasn’t particular about her mount, simply seized one and untethered it. Only when she was about to mount did she realize it was the one upon which poor Ranald was bound—not very well, at that, she realized almost at once. Rather than take the time to choose another horse, and then more time to untether it, and thus risk gaining notice, Page drew up her courage and mounted before poor Ranald, but the horse seemed not to appreciate the fact that she was dripping wet, and protested, snorting and prancing.

And then suddenly she heard the warning shout, and knew her time was ended. Panicking, she spurred the horse with the heel of her foot. It reared, and Page held on for dear life. To her dismay and horror, it danced backward, trying to unseat her. Nickering furiously, it retreated into the water. And then startled, it reared once again. Page clung to its withers as though to save her very soul. Poor Ranald slid off and dove into the water as the horse surged from the lake and broke into a furious run. She heard the shouts and curses behind her, more splashes as men dove in frantically after poor Ranald, but dared not turn to look, fearing they would still be too close at her heels. When at last she dared to peer back, it was to find a mob of shouting, cursing, naked Scotsmen chasing far behind her.

Even as she watched, a few turned and raced for their mounts, but it was too late.

Far too late.

Page breathed a sigh of relief and turned back toward freedom. She fully intended to flee them, even if she had to run morning till eventide.

She dared another glance backward, and couldn’t help herself; she burst into hysterical laughter at the hilarious sight they presented.

Naked and furious, they ran, chasing her still.





chapter 19





It was the last thing Iain expected to find upon his return.

His first thought as he reined in to watch the spectacle was, how the devil had she managed to undress some thirty Scotsmen?

God’s teeth, he’d wholly expected to find she’d half driven them mad, and was afeared to discover they’d murdered her before his return, but this... this, he’d certainly not anticipated—to find her riding away upon a stolen horse, and his men panting and bellowing like idiots while they chased her, their male anatomies swinging free to the breeze. Some ran clutching their groins with both hands, some with one, waving furiously with the other for her to return. A mere handful had evidently gone back after their mounts, for they came racing after her, riding naked as bairns from their mothers’ wombs.

“What are they doin’, da?” his son asked, sounding as bewildered as Iain felt.

“Damned if I know, son,” Iain answered after a moment. “God’s truth, I dunno!”

Christ, but he didn’t know whether to be angry or amused, so he sat there bemused instead, watching the scene unfold and wondering how one measly woman could cause so much bloody trouble.

He didn’t have the chance to ponder it long, for his son reminded him of the obvious. “I dunno either, but I think she’s gettin’ away, da.”