Pressing firmly with her heels, she urgedOwen's horse faster. She prayed he would easily leap the stream, orat least gallop through it.
As the horse neared the riverbank, she heldon tighter. When he slowed, she gave him another nudge with herheels. At the edge of the water, he slid to an abrupt halt andcatapulted her over his head. The world spun. Screaming, shesomersaulted through the air and plunged into the icy river.
Bitter cold water rushed over her head,stripping all her thoughts except survival.
She tried to keep her wits about her and holdher breath. Saints! It was deeper than she realized.
The rushing water dragged her downstream.Twisting, she kicked off the river bottom, surfaced and took adeep, gasping breath. Behind her, men's shouts reached her ears.She looked downstream to see what she might grab onto. She noticedrocks and a log.
A horse galloping along the bank drew herattention. Dugald sat upon its back. Surely she would not have todepend upon him to save her. How could her escape attempt end sohorribly?
Seeing a rock outcropping, she kicked towardit and grabbed hold, the rough surface scraping her fingers. Thewater dragged at her heavy skirts, trying to yank her away into thecurrent. She clawed her way up the rocks. Finally on dry land, shepaused to thank God and draw in great gulps of air. Not dead, butcold. So very cold. The water was obviously melted ice and snowfrom the mountaintops. A massive shiver racked her body. She hadgrown up in the heat of southern France, not icy Scotland.
What seemed only seconds later, someonelifted her from the rock. She could not feel her numb hands or hertoes.
"Damn you, lass!" Dugald shook her. "Youcould've easily drowned. What the hell were you thinking?"
"Vous…" Her lips were so numb withcold they would hardly move.
"What?" He hauled her up a steep embankmentand stood her on level ground. Her knees trembled… her whole bodytrembled. She clenched her teeth so they wouldn't chatter. Her ownfault, damn her rash ideas.
Dugald worked so fast, she couldn't keep up.He threw his weapons to the ground, then his hands were on her,unlacing, removing her bodice.
"Non!Are you mad?" She tried to jerkaway from him.
"Be still." Her clothing loose, he yanked itdown her body.
Not wanting to be naked before him, shescreamed. But she was so cold she could hardly think now. She couldnot fight him.
Next thing she knew, warmth surrounded her.Opening her eyes, she only saw dark blue plaid. His plaid? Yes, itwas even over her head. Moving a bit, she saw he still wore a linenshirt.
Prickles covered her skin as his heatpenetrated and thawed her nerve endings. His strong arms surroundedher, held her upright. Ahh the warmth… like the sun in spring,melting the snow.Grâce à Dieu.
She sighed and leaned into him. "Dugald."
"Aye, lass. You were about to freeze. Yourlips were blue."
She dug her fingers against him and into thelinen of his shirt. Sweet Mother Mary, he was so hot, she felt shewas next to a roaring fire.
"The horse… would not jump."
He grunted. "Owen's horse hates rivers. Youmust not have seen him leading the animal through the water on theway up."
She shook her head. Blast! Why had she notbeen paying more attention? She hadn't imagined she would be tryingto steal Owen's horse, and he'd been behind them.
"You are mad to try to jump rivers," Dugaldgrumbled.
"I have done this many times."
"Is that so?"
"Oui.It is not normally such a hardtask." 'Haps all the horses she'd owned and ridden in the past werebetter trained. Or simply unafraid of rushing water.
He turned aside. "Build a fire, Rufus," hecommanded his guard. "We must get the lady warm. Tell the men toset up my tent and hunt some rabbits or grouse. And send two scoutsup the hill, there, to keep an eye out to the south."
"Aye, m'laird."
Opening her eyes, she saw the scruffy,red-headed man as he turned his horse in the other direction,leading Owen's gelding. The blasted horse appeared happy to be freeof her, flicking his tail and tossing his head.
