Page 142 of Taming the Highland Misfits

“Keep it,” she instructed, pushing his hand away. She had no wish to use a soiled handkerchief, but she could hardly tell Ramsay that at a time like this. “You will likely need it.”

Ramsay nodded his thanks, then let his gaze wander to the cloak-covered shape on the ground that was no longer his brother. His essence, his spirit, his soul, or whatever people called it, was no longer there.

“He is only a shell now,” he said miserably.

Ailsa’s heart was aching for him. She took his hand and squeezed it in a gesture of comfort, and was surprised when he gripped hers in return. Ramsay held on to her hand for a while but did not stop looking at the shrouded figure on the ground.

“I should take him back home,” he said dully. “But I cannot.”

“Send for some help,” Ailsa suggested. “I am sure your father will send a carriage or even a cart as soon as he finds out what has happened. He will not want his son’s body lying out here longer than is necessary, especially on McBain land.”

“You are right,” Ramsay agreed, sighing. He looked down at the hand he was holding; it was so small, and yet this little hand, which belonged to an equally small woman, held the power to unite two warring families. He let it slip out of his grasp, then looked down at the letters again.

“This is not the hand of a peasant,” he mused. “Look at the way they express themselves. This person is not uneducated. But what does that matter now? John is gone.” Again tears sprang to his eyes, however this time he did not give in to them, but dashed them away.

Then he realised that Ailsa was speaking to him. “Ramsay, you cannot stay here all night. I can stay with John if you wish while you fetch someone to collect him.”

“No,” Ramsay said firmly. There was a long silence, during which he considered his position. His father despised him, and no one but John had ever trusted him in his whole life; if he went back to Balmuir Castle with his brother’s body there would be hell to pay.

“I will have to think about this,” he said grimly. “There are reasons why I cannot take John’s body home with me which I cannot discuss with you, Ailsa.”

“I understand,” she murmured. She thought she could guess the reasons.

“But there are foxes and boars out here,” he said, screwing his face up in horror as he thought of what could happen to his brother’s body. “Is there shelter somewhere?”

At last, feeling that she could be of some use, Ailsa nodded. “Yes, there is a ruined cottage a little way inside the woods. Can you lift him onto one of the horses? Shall I help you?” She looked at the body with the missile of death still protruding grotesquely from its chest. John had been a big, muscular man, only slightly less bulky than Ramsay, and she seriously doubted that even someone as strong as he was could pick him up and carry him.

She was wrong. Ramsay squatted down and, with an arm under John’s knees and another under his shoulders, he stood up, staggering a little as he found his balance. A strange thing happened as Ailsa watched his muscles bulge, and she saw the evidence of his sheer masculinity. She felt every particle in her body quiver with awareness, and a strange desire she could not identify. All she knew was that she had wanted desperately for him to kiss her.

For a moment she was transfixed as a tremor ran through her and a jolt of something so ecstatic she could not put a name to it. She was stunned, but presently, with a great effort of will, she returned her mind to the matter at hand.

Ramsay lifted John’s body onto his horse then they entered the forest. The ruins of the little hut stood in a clearing about a hundred yards away from where they had been sitting. Ailsa had only just managed to find it, since there was very little light, but eventually, Ramsay was able to lay John down on the ground and stand up to ease his aching back.

He could hardly see Ailsa in the darkness, but he was comforted by the fact that she was there. If he had had to sit with his brother alone until daylight, the agony would have been almost unbearable.

“Are you all right?” Her soft voice cut through the darkness, and Ramsay nodded, forgetting that she could not see him.

“I am well enough under the circumstances,” he replied. It was a lie. He had never felt so wretched in his life.

7

“There is nothing we can do now,” Ailsa said. “I think we should wait here till morning.” She desperately wished there was something she could say or do that would help him, but he seemed to have retreated into himself, neither speaking nor moving. Ailsa thanked the heavens that it was not cold, or they would have been in dire straits. Her cloak was still draped over John’s body, and although it was almost midsummer, she was cold.

It occurred to her then that by now her family must be desperate with worry. Only Molly knew where she was, but even if she told them it would be of little help. She had ridden quite far away from the place where she and John had had their rendezvous, and they had made sure they could not be found. However, her mother had a vivid imagination and would no doubt have painted a dozen different scenarios in her mind, each one worse than the last.

She remembered a previous occasion, just before Katrina was born, when they had gone to a market and she had wandered away and become lost among the crowds of farmers and traders. It was only when she turned around to speak to her father that she realised that neither of her parents was there, and she screamed in panic.

Lady Davina had been hugely pregnant with Katrina then and had been beside herself with fear, but her father had been calmer and enlisted the help of all his friends and many of the farmers and traders.

“My love, this is not good for the baby,” he had pointed out. “Let me handle this and I will bring her back, I promise.” The Laird was trying to appear calm, even though he was panicking inside too.

“What if she has been kidnapped?” Lady Davina asked tearfully. “What will we do, Mal?—”

“She has no’ been kidnapped, Milady.” A short, plump woman in her middle years with blue eyes and a kind, homely face was holding Ailsa by the hand as she delivered her into the care of her mother. “I found her cryin’ over there by the well.”

Lady Davina had given the woman a whole sovereign, then promptly burst into tears, while Laird McBain had severely reprimanded Ailsa, telling her never to do such a thing again.

Ailsa remembered the feeling of utter relief that had overwhelmed her as she stepped into Lady Davina’s embrace and felt her mother’s arms close around her. She also recalled the guilt that had assailed her as her father told her how many bad people there were in the world, and how her mother was in a delicate condition.