Page 36

Four months later …

“STRAIGHTEN YER BACK a little … that’s it … now let yerself sink into the saddle.”

Jaw tight, Bonnie did as bid.

A moment later, her balance improved, and she no longer felt as if she was going to topple off the back of Ionmhas, the sturdy dun mare Iver had gifted her.

Ionmhas— Treasure —was a pretty garron with a dark-gold coat and black mane, forelock, and tail.

Iver bought her from the horse market in Ceann Locha two months earlier.

In the time since, Bonnie had discovered that she wasn’t a natural horsewoman.

She seemed to have little control over the mare, and Ionmhas often stopped to graze at grass during their rides, oblivious as Bonnie tried to get her to move on.

“Ye are holding her on too tight a rein,” Iver went on, from where he rode next to her on his bay courser.

“I have to, or she’ll go her own way,” Bonnie replied.

“No, she won’t. Loosen them a bit.”

She did as bid, relaxing her grip, creating some slack.

Ionmhas tossed her head, as if thanking her, and Iver huffed a laugh.

“Use yer thighs as I showed ye, to guide and halt her.” He paused then, still smiling.

“And remember, ye are her mistress … not the other way around.”

“I know,” Bonnie muttered.

“Come, we shall let them stretch their legs,” Iver said, flashing her a grin.

Before Bonnie could answer, he urged his gelding into a smooth canter.

One hand gripping the pommel of her saddle—so she didn’t topple off—Bonnie kicked Ionmhas into a jolting trot and then a bumpy canter.

The garron didn’t have the long stride of the courser.

However, she was a lot closer to the ground should Bonnie tumble from her back.

As she already had, twice now.

The track they rode upon wended its way north above where waves rolled into a rocky shore.

Hills clad in heather, thistle, and wildflowers rolled out to the west, and woolly clouds scudded across a cerulean sky.

It was a fine summer’s morning, and a warm breeze feathered in from the south.

And despite that she was clinging on for dear life, Bonnie couldn’t fail to take in the stark beauty of the surrounding landscape.

In the four moons she’d lived here, she’d quickly come to love it, and to understand why Iver was so fond of this peninsula.

The rest of Scotland, and its unrest—for King James was now locked in conflict with the Douglases—seemed a world away.

It was a bumpy ride up the coast, and despite that Bonnie did her best to relax into the saddle and go with the mare’s stride, as Iver had taught her, her backside was sore by the time they pulled up at the spot he’d chosen for them to take their noon meal.

Sliding to the ground and looping Ionmhas’s reins over her head, she glanced over at the large flat rock that sat above the cliffs and the glittering water.

Her mouth curved then.

Aye, it was a lovely spot indeed.

A short while later, once their horse and pony had been hobbled—to ensure they didn’t wander off—Iver and Bonnie sat upon the sun-warmed rock and unwrapped the parcel of food Cory had packed for them.

Inside the oiled leather, they found pork pies, baked with boiled eggs in them, and fresh cakes studded with small tart blaeberries.

There, they sat and ate their fill, washing the meal down with a skin of ale they’d brought.

It was good to sit in peace together.

The past months had been busy, and they rarely stole time alone in the middle of the day like this.

“Have ye heard from Lennox of late?” Bonnie asked eventually as she finished off her last cake.

Iver shook his head.

“I wrote to him shortly after our arrival home … but received no response.” His gaze shadowed at this admission.

“It’s as I feared … there’s a rift between us now.”

“He’ll get in touch when he’s ready,” Bonnie assured him.

“Aye,” Iver murmured, although he didn’t appear convinced.

Brushing crumbs off her skirts, Bonnie glanced east at where the outline of the neighboring isle rose against the sky.

“What’s Arran like?” she asked, deliberately changing the subject.

Speaking of Lennox saddened Iver, and she didn’t want to dampen his mood.

“Beautiful,” Iver replied with a wistful smile.

“It has a rugged coastline, steep mountains, and dark forests.” He paused then.

“My mother’s family hail from the isle … if ye wish it, we could take a trip there before summer’s end?”

Bonnie grinned back, excitement fluttering up under her ribcage.

“I do wish it,” she assured him before shifting her attention once more to the isle’s misty silhouette.

Arran had intrigued her ever since her arrival at Dun Ugadale.

She sighed then. “Before meeting ye, my world was so small. Yet now that I have seen what lies beyond Stirling, I find myself curious to discover more.”

“That’s fine news indeed, for I received a missive from our clan-chief yesterday. He is holding a gathering in September and has bid me to attend.” Bonnie glanced back at her husband to see he’d raised an eyebrow.

“He also made it clear that I’m to bring ye … it seems that the rest of the Mackays want to meet my wife.”

Bonnie stiffened.

“Niel Mackay wants to meet me ?”

“Indeed.”

Their gazes held, and then Iver’s mouth twitched.

“He’s a nosy bastard … and probably wants to confirm for himself that the rumor is true.”

Bonnie’s pulse quickened.

“What rumor?”

She’d dearly hoped that after her arrival here and the passing of the months, folk would have forgotten that the laird of Dun Ugadale had wed a simple chambermaid.

The thought that gossip might have been circulating the Highlands all this while made her feel a little queasy.

However, Iver didn’t look the slightest bit concerned.

“Why … the rumor that Iver Mackay wed the bonniest woman in Scotland, of course,” he replied blithely.

Relief gusted out of Bonnie.

She then snorted before swatting a hand at him playfully.

“That’s an outrageous claim,” she admonished him.

He caught her hand and raised it to his lips, kissing her knuckles.

“Aye, but it’s true.” His expression grew serious then, his blue eyes intense.

“Will ye join me when I travel to Castle Varrich?”

She inclined her head.

“It doesn’t sound like I’ve been given a choice.”

“Ye always have a choice. If ye’d rather not go … for ye will be the center of attention … I can make an excuse.”

Bonnie considered his words before shaking her head.

“I will join ye,” she assured him.

“I wouldn’t want to be apart from ye for so long, and” —she smiled then— “if I can win yer mother over, I’m sure I can weather Niel Mackay’s scrutiny.”

It was true.

Sheena had thawed considerably of late.

She still had a tongue sharper than a whetted ax, yet it had become clear that she’d been starved of female company too.

The two women often worked together on needlework and weaving in the ladies' solar.

Iver laughed and pulled her close so she perched on his lap. “Aye, lass,” he murmured into her ear, causing pleasure to shiver through her. “Ye’d charm the devil himself.”