Free Sarah Gabriel by Stealing Sophie Page B

crystal pendant at her throat, wishing its dormant, rumored magic could impart some guidance. She breathed slowly, then knew. Just knew.
    She must go to Glendoon, with him.
    “Wherever I can find a hearth and a pillow, and a cup of hot tea,” she said, lifting her chin, “that way will I go.”
    Wherever I will find love , she had wanted to say, I will go there —but she kept that thought to herself. If her fairy stone urged her toward love, she was not likely to find it here.
    “Aye then.” He took her arm. “Come with me.”
    Heart pounding, she walked beside him, warily eyeing the castle that loomed on its black hill.
    She glanced at the gorge that held the burn, which served as a natural moat for the castle grounds. Its walls were too steep to climb down. “Where is the bridge?”
    “If we had a bridge, anyone could come up here.” MacPherson pointed across the gap. “We’ll have to jump.”
    She gaped at him. “Jump!”
    “Or we can walk all the way down the hill again and find a cave for the night.”
    She paused, sure that he was challenging her again, for his tone had a wry twist to it that signaled humor or testing. Though she felt tired and miserable, she would prove to him that she could take each new hurdle he showed her with grace and some courage. Sophie had her pride, as she sensed he had his.
    Letting go of her, MacPherson stepped back a few feet, then ran forward and leaped the gorge, straddling the air like a dancer, to land easily on the other side.
    “It’s not so bad,” he said. “Come over.”
    “No.” She backed away, turned, thinking to run while he was separated from her—but she stopped, looking down that dark and treacherous hill.
    The Highlander leaped back again, landing beside her, taking her arm before she could move. “The jump is not far. It just seems so because of the deep gorge. I think you can do it.”
    “You think ?” She gave him a scathing look. Then she yanked away from his hold and turned to walk along the edge of the bank. “Surely there is some other way to get across. Not everyone leaps this place—or did, when there were living people and not ghosts inside Glendoon,” she snapped.
    “Well actually, there is,” he admitted.
    “You could have told me that!” she fumed.
    “The leap is faster, and I thought you were anxious for your tea…and your bed.”
    “Hateful man,” she said. “You just wanted to see if I would jump after you. I will not. I am tired and Ihave no more patience. I want to rest. Where is the crossing?”
    “Two miles up this slope. Keep climbing and you’ll find an easy place to cross.”
    “Leap across here if you want, sir. I’ll take the safer route. But I will have tea for my trouble.” She picked up her skirts and walked away. He did not follow. Was he really letting her go so readily? She glanced around, wondering suddenly if she could risk trying to escape from up here.
    “Watch out for wildcats,” he called after her.
    Though her heart quailed at that, she did not turn. A moment or two later she glanced back to see him not far behind her. Sophie felt relieved, but she would not ask about wildcats, or wolves, either, though she glanced about uneasily.
    Raising her skirt hems, she picked her way along the side of the gash. Farther up the slope, less than a quarter mile, the gorge lessened considerably, cut up a steep incline, and the burn became a shallow slice through rough grass. Smooth stones offered a secure crossing not far ahead.
    At that spot, Sophie sat on the grass beside the bank, her amber satin gown, with its laces and frills, billowing around her. The dress had been a gift, made in Paris, from her widowed mother, who now lived there after remarrying. Sophie treasured the gown, and tonight was the first time she had worn it. After the evening’s escapades, she feared that the irreplaceable dress and its underskirt were ruined. Frowning, she pulled off her shoes and stockings, and did not glance up when