Down the Rabbit Hole

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Colin watched as his guests cheered the sight of hundreds of quail and pheasants lifting into the air as young lads from the village raced through the brush, brandishing tree branches to frighten the birds into flight.

He cupped his hands to his mouth. “Let the contest begin.”

At once Ian and the others notched their arrows to their bows and took aim.

Each Highlander used the feathers of a different bird to balance his arrows. Thus it was an easy task to determine by the arrow embedded in the dead bird just which hunter had made the kill.

Ian turned to their host. “You’re not joining us?”

“Aye. In time. I prefer to give my guests the honor of first kill.”

Ian’s eyes narrowed. “You think yourself so much better than the rest of us that you would hold back?”

Colin merely smiled. “I consider it my duty to be a good host first, and to partake of the games only when my guests are enjoying themselves.”

As Ian wheeled his mount and began riding after the others, Colin reined in his horse and watched with a thoughtful frown.

His thoughts weren’t on the hunt, but rather on the female. On that kiss in the garden, which had inflamed him as none ever had.

Who was she, and why had she chosen this time to come into their midst? Was she, as he feared, a spy, sent by the Campbell clan to report on his intentions regarding Queen Mary? After his stepmother’s heavy-handed rule over his father and his clan, he trusted no Campbell. Especially one so young and fair.

Still, she seemed truly confused by her fall. Or addle-brained.

Colin considered himself a good judge of character. And though he intended to keep a watchful eye, he found himself beginning to believe that she was as she appeared. Not so much addled as injured. There seemed to be a goodness in her heart, a sweetness in her soul that called to him. A dangerous thing, he knew. Many a laird had failed to understand that a fair face could hide an evil heart. Had not his own father made such an error in judgment? The price paid for his father’s folly was still being exacted today. Darda was not a woman to be trifled with. As she had so ably proven.

The stranger could be here to relieve him of the last of the Gordon legacy. Hadn’t many a devious woman mastered the art of seducing a laird before betraying him?

Seeing the female and Jamie approaching, he put aside his troubling thoughts and forced himself to smile.

“Now that you’re here, we’ll observe the others.”

Jamie looked surprised. “Yer not joining in the hunt, m’laird?”

“There’s plenty of time, lad.” Motioning for Jamie to give them some room, Colin guided his mount to fall into step alongside Beth’s horse and found himself enjoying the way the sunlight turned her hair to spun gold.

“This place you spoke of. This New York. Do they all speak as you do?”

Beth nodded. “They do.”

“And that strange manner of dress when you first arrived, baring your legs as a Highland warrior, but wearing on your feet small bits of calfskin with daggers at the heels? This is also something your kinsmen wear in your country?”

Beth found herself laughing. “The heels aren’t really meant to be daggers, though I suppose they appear that way to someone who’s never seen them before. They’re considered fashionable in New York.”

“Fashion?” Colin frowned. “I’ve heard the women in the English court are consumed by it. Here in the Highlands we’re more concerned with surviving the cold and feeding our young. We are constantly at war, if not with neighboring clans, then with the English, who will never cease until we wear the yoke of oppression. We’ve no time for frivolous pursuits.”

Beth instantly sobered. “I’m truly sorry for your hardship. I hope it will give you some comfort to know that life will be easier for your heirs in generations to come.”

He gave her a sharp look. “Are you one of those who can see the future?”

“I . . .” Unsure how to answer, she merely nodded before looking away.

“Ah.” He drew the word out as he pondered this bit of wondrous news. “And do all your people in New York have this power?”

She swiveled her head. “I’m afraid not.”

“So you are one of the few.” He leaned close to place a hand on hers, lowering his voice so that Jamie wouldn’t overhear. “Have you come here to warn me, or to use your power against me?”

Again she felt the most amazing rush of heat, which sparked up her arm and sizzled along her spine, and wondered if this man had some sort of strange power as well.

“I would never . . .” Her voice caught in her throat, and she struggled to remember why she had come to Stag’s Head. To urge this man to sell that which was most revered by him. To persuade him to offer up his ancestral land for a modern development that would turn this idyllic paradise into a playground for the rich and famous. Her tone lowered. “No matter why I was sent, now that I’m here, my only wish is to help you in any way I can.”

“I wonder . . .” He kept his hand on hers for long moments while he stared into her eyes.