Devil of the Highlands (Devil of the Highlands #1)(19)
Author: Lynsay Sands

Once Evelinde had finished eating, Mildrede rushed off to see to straightening the bedchamber, and Evelinde was finally able to slip out of the keep.

She didn’t see her husband as she made her way to the paddock, and was glad for it. Did he ask her where she was headed, Evelinde would not feel she could lie outright and would have had to tell the truth. Something she’d rather not have to do. She would not mind explaining that it had been briefly lost after she found it, but would rather Cullen not know until she’d found it again.

Evelinde started her search where she’d left off the day the Comyns had arrived, on the path she thought they’d taken when leaving the area. She followed that path all the way to where Cullen had hauled her out of the paddock but had no success.

Sighing unhappily when she reached the fence without finding it, Evelinde got back to her feet and peered into the paddock. She didn’t see Angus, but had learned her lesson from her last walk through the enclosure. Evelinde followed the fence all the way to the end to check the entire area. The paddock ran alongside the one where Cullen had been breaking his horse with just a ten-foot span between the two, then turned and ran along the back of it to a small barn with doors both in front, opening into the horses’ paddock, and another on the side, opening into Angus’s paddock.

The door to Angus’s paddock was presently closed, and there was no sign of the bull. This was probably the best time to search the paddock for the pin if she was going to do it, Evelinde realized, and cast one last glance toward the closed door before hurrying back along the fence to where Cullen had pulled her out.

Hitching up her skirt, she quickly climbed the fence and dropped into the paddock. Evelinde then paused to glance around one more time to be sure Angus was still inside the barn before dropping to her hands and knees to begin searching the grass in the enclosure. She moved much more quickly here, just running her hands over the grass in search of the pin, then moving on to the next spot and doing it again. She didn’t wish to be in the paddock any longer than necessary. She also wished to avoid being seen at her search. Evelinde had no doubt that Cullen would be furious if he caught her in here, and that was without even knowing that she’d lost his pin.

She was halfway across the paddock when she spotted the missing broach. Giving a happy cry, Evelinde snatched it up and sat back on her heels to examine it, releasing a small sigh of relief when she saw it was undamaged. She was just getting to her feet thinking she’d been very fortunate to come when the paddock was empty as well as to actually find the pin when the thunder of hooves drew her head around. Her eyes widened at the sight of an angry Angus charging down the paddock toward her.

For one moment, Evelinde was frozen, then she broke into a run, Cullen’s pin clutched in her hand like a talisman.

"Ye’ll manage?" Cullen asked Mac as he led his mount out of the stables. He’d just finished giving the man a tour of the stables and introduced him as the new stable master to Scatchy and his daughter, Loa.

Scatchy appeared happy enough with the new arrangement. Cullen wasn’t surprised. The man had told him more than once that he was getting too old to be sitting up all night with ailing or birthing horses.

Much to Cullen’s surprise, however, Loa didn’t appear to be taking the new arrangement well at all. She’d been grim and stiff ever since he’d introduced Mac and explained his new position. Cullen would have expected the woman to be relieved to have someone remove the burden from her. Scatchy had been little help the last few years, and the task of managing the stables had fallen on her shoulders.

He glanced to the woman now to find her standing in the shadows of the stable doors, glaring out at them.

"Shell settle," Mac said.

Cullen turned back to see that Mac was watching her, too.

"She just needs a little handling," the stable master added mildly. When Cullen raised his eyebrows, he shrugged. "Women are like horses; keep them fed and watered, rub them down of a night, and whisper a sweet word or two in their ear, and they’ll follow ye anywhere."

Cullen released a bark of laughter, but then tried to smother it as Scatchy came out of the stables. The old man walked toward them with a smile that turned into a perplexed expression as he glanced at something to his left.

"Is that not yer lady playing with Angus again, me laird?" the old man asked as he reached them.

Cullen glanced sharply toward the paddocks, his heart lodging itself in his throat when he saw Evelinde in her red gown, running willy-nilly around the field trying to outrun the bull, which was almost on top of her.

Cursing, he leapt onto his mount and spurred him into a dead run. Cullen knew he’d never make it even as he charged toward the enclosure. Evelinde didn’t have a chance at outrunning the beast, he thought, but quickly realized he’d underestimated her. While she might not have been faster or stronger than the bull, she was definitely smarter. Just when Cullen thought she would be caught up in the bull’s horns and tossed through the air, Evelinde suddenly dove to the side, throwing herself to the ground.

Unprepared for the action, Angus stamped past her a good distance before managing to bring himself to a halt and turn back. By that time, Evelinde had already rolled back to her feet and was again racing toward the nearest fence. Angus was immediately after her again, her red gown drawing him on.

Cullen leaned low over his mount’s back and steered him straight at the fence. His horse was leaping the top rail when Evelinde next threw herself to the side to avoid being gored. Angus was more prepared this time, however, and managed to stop and turn much more quickly. But Evelinde had nearly reached the fence when she threw herself to the ground and rather than get up and race the last few steps and try to climb it as he feared—which would have seen her gored ere he could reach her—his clever wife simply rolled several times, rolling herself right under the fence to safety.

Angus came to a halt at once, furiously puffing air from his nostrils as he glared at the woman staring back at him from safety. Cullen’s heart was just starting to slow with relief that she was safe when Angus suddenly swiveled his head to glare his way.

Realizing he was now the one in danger, Cullen immediately jerked his mount to the side, heading for the fence and safety as Angus started to charge him. Should the bull take out the horse before they got out of the paddock, Cullen knew they were both in trouble. He dug his heels into the animal’s side, demanding more speed, but needn’t have bothered.

The horse had no interest in being gored. His mount managed a speed Cullen had never seen from him before, seeming nearly to fly the short distance to the fence.

Even so, Cullen wasn’t sure they would make it. The bull’s huffing was loud in his ears, and he was sure the beast was about to impale his mount, when the animal suddenly made a leap for the fence. Cullen lowered himself to the beast’s neck as they sailed through the air. In his fear, the animal had made the leap early and he suspected they barely cleared the fence, but barely was enough. They came down hard on the other side even as Angus crashed into it from inside with a fearsome force that made the fence shudder visibly. But the fence held, leaving the beast glaring at them and snorting its rage.

Cullen was off his horse and rushing to Evelinde’s side almost before his horse stopped.

"Are ye injured?" he asked, anxiously drawing her to her feet.

"Nay. I am fine," Evelinde assured him breathlessly, watching the bull with wide, wary eyes as if she feared he might still get out and come after them.

Cullen closed his eyes briefly with relief and shook his head, thinking that the woman would be the death of him. She was forever getting herself into trouble and scaring the life out of him. One of these times she was going to get herself killed with her foolish stunts, he thought, his relief giving way to anger. The next thing he knew he was bellowing, "What were ye doing, ye daft woman?"

Evelinde turned wide eyes to him, opened her mouth, closed it again, then clucked her tongue irritably and pushed herself away to march toward the path.

Cullen immediately chased after her. He had never been so furious in his life. Half of him wanted to beat her for her stupidity, and the other half wanted to throw her to the ground, pull her skirt up, and love her until she didn’t have the strength to try to get herself killed again. He couldn’t do either, of course, so he simply caught her by the arm, and swung her around to face him as he repeated, "What were ye doing?"

Evelinde blew her breath upward on a sigh, sending the tendrils of hair that had escaped her bun flying and then muttered, "Where have I heard that question before?"

"Wife," he growled, his temper barely controlled.

"I borrowed your pin the other day to help keep little Maggie’s blue gown from gaping."

Cullen frowned at her with confusion, unsure what that had to do with anything until he recalled how she’d been searching the back of her skirt for something when one of the men on the wall had called out to him that a party was approaching. The pin, obviously, he thought.

"But when I climbed the fence it came undone and fell out in the paddock. That is what I was doing when you and the Comyns found me on my hands and knees that day," she explained. "I fear I forgot about it until this morning when you were looking for it. I came down after breaking my fast to find it. And I did," she added brightly, holding it out in her hand. "I had just found it when I realized Angus was charging on me."

Cullen stared at the pin in the palm of her hand with amazement. "Ye braved the bull for me pin?"

"Aye. Nay," Evelinde corrected, then sighed, and said, "He was not in the paddock."

Cullen realized then that he had never explained to her that the paddock was L-shaped. Fergus had mentioned it the other day to calm him, but the man had spoken so low he doubted she’d heard it. Evelinde must have glanced the length of the stables and not seen the beast before and thought the paddock empty, he realized. This was an instance when his lack of talking was definitely detrimental, he thought grimly and began to explain what he should have at the time. "The paddock is L-shaped, wife. He was probably—"

"I checked the entire paddock, Cullen." She interrupted. "Angus was not outside, and the door leading from the barn to his paddock was closed when I climbed in."

"She’s right, me laird. Angus should have been in his pen."

Cullen glanced around at that announcement to see an older man approaching in a hopping limp. The man was Hamish, who was in charge of these paddocks, and the limp was from an old injury, a gift from Angus some years back.

"I hadn’t yet let him out today," the man said once he’d reached them. "Angus went in to eat when the sun was setting last night, and I closed the door and dropped the bar. I have yet to let him out today. He shouldna have been in the paddock."

"Well someone let him out," Cullen said grimly.

The man nodded slowly. "Aye, it would seem so."

Cullen frowned, then both men turned to peer at Evelinde. She stiffened under their gazes and then impatiently. "Well, I can assure you it was not I."

"Then it was someone else," Cullen growled, anger stirring in him. Whoever it was had nearly got his wife killed. A soft touch on his arm drew his gaze down to see that Evelinde was patting his arm soothingly.

"I am sure whoever let him loose simply did not see me in the paddock," she said, then explained, "I was on my hands and knees searching through the grass for your pin just before I realized he was charging. I am sure it was an accident."

"Aye," he agreed, but was still bothered by the whole incident.

"Well," his wife said with a forced smile. "I shall just go put this back in your chest where I found it."

Evelinde hurried away before he could stop her.

Cullen watched her go, his eyebrows drawn together with worry.

"It was no accident, me laird," Hamish murmured quietly, drawing his gaze away from his wife. "No one ever deals with Angus but me. No one would have a reason to open the door… unless they saw yer lady wife in the paddock and wanted to loose him on her."

Cullen stared at the man for one long moment, then asked, "Why would anyone wish to do that?"

Hamish shrugged. "Why would anyone kill your uncle, father, or first lady wife?"

"Those were accidents," Cullen said coldly, though he wasn’t at all certain they were. However, he’d never been able to find out for sure one way or the other so had been forced to accept that they were accidents and move on.

"And this would have appeared to be an accident, too," Hamish pointed out.

Cullen stiffened, his head jerking up at the words as if under a blow.

"Just something to think about," Hamish pointed out, and turned to walk along the paddock toward the barn.

Cullen watched him go, his mind crowding with thoughts. His uncle Darach had been the first questionable accident. An arrow to the back had taken him while hunting. No one had ever admitted to loosing the arrow, but it was thought at the time that the individual might not have known he did it. Cullen had been fourteen and on his first hunt when it happened. They’d been hunting wild boar and come upon a family of them. There had been at least twenty men. When the two adult boars had charged, trying to protect the younger ones, every one of those men had scattered, each heading in a different direction to get out of the way. Boars were vicious when provoked.

Arrows had flown from every direction that day as the boars had gone after anything that moved, chasing one way, then another, hardly seeming to notice the arrows that soon stuck out of them until they resembled oversized hedgehogs. It wasn’t until both boars were down that anyone realized that Darach, their laird, was not there to help collect their prizes and carry them back to the keep. A search had started, and the laird of Donnachaidh had been found lying in the bushes, an arrow through his back. Darach had still been alive, and told them that he’d fallen from his mount when one of the boars charged him sending his horse rearing. It was while tumbling into the bushes that he’d felt the arrow pierce him. He’d thought it an accident, that he’d fallen into the path of the already loosed arrow, and everyone had accepted that. When he died three days later with fever from his infected wound, all the keep had thought it a tragic accident.