Page 49 of Highlander’s Mercenary Lass

14

"Grace, ye must come. The view from here is most spectacular!" Paton called from across the grassy hillside. He was a few yards ahead and seated on top of his plump horse.

"Coming," said Grace, without much enthusiasm. She fiddled despondently with her handkerchief, trying to fasten it back in place. But she was having trouble with the sleeves in her houppelande, unable to gather them up without tripping on them. And that was even before she tried to ride a horse!

Cursing this stupid fashion, Grace wished fervently for her old arisaid, but since her betrothal to Paton, things had changed.

As lady of the clan—or acting lady, at least until the actual marriage ceremony—Grace was expected to dress the part. This meant gowns, kirtles, crespines, poulaines, and, unfortunately, these muckle stupid houppelandes.

God knew how any woman was supposed to do anything in them. Then again, she supposed that was the point. Paton had certainly made it clear that she was not to do anything without him.

In the days since Andrew's disappearance, Grace had found herself increasingly housebound. And it did not suit her one bit.

Grace perspired as she repositioned her horned headdress, sweating under its sheer weight. Not only did it slip off at every turn, but it made her look like a sheep. And the local bairns had taken to following her around, making baaing noises. Grace could see the funny side, but Paton did not.

"I'll skelp their wee backsides!" he fumed, chasing a hapless nine-year-old away from the side of the glen. Finally, they all ran off, leaving Grace alone with Paton on the rainy glen side.

She gathered the houppelande up around her, seeing off the wind which whistled in her face. Vaguely, she became aware of Paton saying something.

"Grace?" He beckoned her near. Reluctantly, she came over. Paton took her hand—still something that made Grace's skin crawl—and pointed something out to her.

"There," he said, pressing his aged body against hers. Grace battled the urge to push him over the edge of the steep glen.

With some effort, she followed his hand.

"See that ditch there?"

Grace feigned interest, nodding unenthusiastically.

"Right there, that's where yer father fought his first battle wi' the Kennedys!" Paton said excitably.

Grace nodded but struggled to concentrate. Her head was jumping with other things. One other thing, to be precise: Andrew.

It had been days since she had seen him, and in that time, she had thought of little else. Casting her eyes across the glen, Grace wondered just how far they had gotten in that time. The clan that Billie was going to was a distant one, and there was every chance Andrew might be gone for longer than he thought.

Maybe that was a good thing. It would give a chance for things to be smoothed down. The way they had parted rankled with Grace, and she would never forget the raw, angry look he had given her as he mounted Blackwell and raced away.

Glancing at Paton, she recalled Andrew's words. Ye cannae trust him, he had told her. And although Paton hadn't done anything directly to make her suspicious, Grace couldn't help but wonder that he would.

In actual fact, though, the only thing he had done was nearly bore her to death. She had not been prepared for just how much he talked. About everything.

"Grace, Grace, Grace! Look, that spot there!"

Grace rolled her eyes and, with some effort, walked over to where Paton was standing. She hadn't noticed moving away from him, but she must have. Once again, his arms were upon her.

"That's where he led the charge for the clan," said Paton, looking at her with pride. "Ye ought tae ken all the clan history so that when we're married, ye can tell our bairns."

At the mention of bairns, Grace nearly fell over. Inside, she felt hot and raw. Everything had been building up for some time, and now she felt like a kettle that had been on the fire for too long.

"Nay," said Grace, finally.

Paton turned to look at her. Grace's eyes ran through him. He was a gray man, with a gray beard, on a gray horse, on a gray day. In a flash, Grace could see her life being gray forever if she chose to stay with this man.

In the last few days, she had plenty of time to think this over, and despite the lure of respectability, she knew what she had to do.

Beside her, Paton demurred. "What?" he said, finally looking around.

Grace stood beside him, petting her white horse softly. "I said nay," she said softly. "Nay, I wilnae tell oor bairns anything."