Free Amanda Scott by Highland Princess Page B

you with me,” she said. “I mean only to ride to Loch Gruinart and back before I break my fast.”
    “Sakes, mistress, ’tis safe enough for ye anywhere on Isla, I ken well, but if ye should suffer a mishap—”
    “I won’t,” she said, laughing at his concern. “Nor will anyone scold you. It is not as if I have not done the same thing many and many a time before.”
    “Aye, ’tis true, that,” Ian said. “I’ll just put the lad’s bridle on then and give ye a leg up.”
    Minutes later, free of care and comfortably astride as she had ridden since childhood, she rode out of the enclosure and across the causeway, keeping an eye on the cottages along the shore on the slight chance that one of her brothers had come out early to speak to a guardsman or someone else who lived there.
    Ancient woodland lay before her split by a narrow track that ran alongside one of the many burns feeding into Finlaggan. She followed it to the top of the low ridge, and as she rode north along the ridgeline, the eastern sky beyond the pointed twin Paps of Jura grew pink and then orange, spreading color into and under the thin cloud layer above.
    Riding downhill to Loch Car Nan Gall, she paused to watch the sun peep over the horizon, splashing golden rays through the narrow space below the cloud layer. The wooded dale was narrow, and she crossed a second ridge a short time later. From the top, she enjoyed her first view of the sea at the north end of the island. Following a tumbling river through more patches of woodland, she soon came to the craggy point where Loch Gruinart met the sea.
    To her right lay the cliffs from which Elma might have fallen. Others loomed above the seashore on the other side of the loch mouth, for she had often seen them from boats on the water. But she thought it unlikely that Elma would have walked so far, and unlikely, too, that she had taken a boat, since someone surely would have known of it and spoken up before now.
    It occurred to her then that Elma might have followed Godfrey’s party to Kilchoman, perhaps to take Mellis something he had forgotten. But even if Godfrey had not followed his usual route south to Loch Indaal and across its head, his party would have ridden closer to the head of Loch Gruinart. From where she was to the loch head was at least five miles from the sea, too far from any cliff off which Elma might have fallen.
    One of Mairi’s favorite pastimes was to ride along Loch Gruinart’s shore and back to Finlaggan by way of jewellike Loch Cam, and the temptation was strong to do so today if only because she might find some indication as to exactly where Ewan Beton had found Elma’s body. But that likelihood was remote, and the journey would take too long. As it was, she risked missing breakfast and would likely have to endure her mother’s displeasure.
    Nevertheless, she could not return without first galloping on the sand. Loch Gruinart was blessed with wide, rolling sand dunes along its shore, and she could ride full out on them. Indeed, one of her greatest pleasures in summertime was to run barefoot through the warm sand. Just thinking about that now made her smile.
    From the ridge above, Lachlan watched the lass ride down to the shore. She was a pleasure to watch, no matter what she did, but on horseback, she was breathtaking. He had never known an Isleswoman who rode so easily and so well, as if she were an extension of her horse. The silvery gray was splendid, too.
    He had spent an hour after supper the previous evening building an acquaintance with young Ian Burk. Easily deducing that Lady Mairi cared about the lad, and that Ian might thus prove a font of valuable information if handled deftly, Lachlan had employed his considerable skills of interrogation to excellent result. Although Ian was plainly devoted to his mistress, the task had not been difficult after Lachlan expressed his satisfaction that Ian had proven his innocence, and his certainty that Lady Mairi’s relief