Free Unlacing the Innocent Miss by Margaret McPhee Page B

of his mouth she had seen.
    Without warning, he turned his head and met her eyes, catching her quite unaware so that she blushed. She rapidly averted her gaze but not before she had felt the questioning intensity of his stare. She walked on—increasing her pace, not slowing it—and the whole right-hand side of her body, by which he walked, seemed to tingle with a strange awareness.
     
    The hours passed slowly until the air had lost its warmth and the light was dimming as the clouds began to gather overhead. Miss Meadowfield was still walking. Wolf had not thought that she would last so long.
    Her head was still held high, yet she was unable to hidethe slight droop of her shoulders or the slowing of her pace. He knew that she must be exhausted and her feet sore, for he was weary enough and he was used to walking and had walked a good number of hours less.
    Wolf slipped back up into his saddle and rode past her to Campbell and Kempster. ‘Penrith’s a mile ahead. That’s where we’ll stop for the night.’
    ‘You should have taken her up on your horse. We’ve lost too much time. Evedon’ll be getting jumpy if we’re delayed.’
    Wolf turned a hard eye on Kempster. ‘Evedon will have her in plenty of time. You need not concern yourself with our schedule, Mr Kempster.’
    ‘Just sayin’’ said Kempster with a shrug.
    ‘Best to say nothing, laddie.’ Campbell smiled but the smile did not touch his eyes.
    ‘Ride on ahead to the Crown Inn and secure us a couple of rooms. Here.’ Wolf drew a leather purse from his pocket and threw it to Kempster.
    The other man gave a nod, and manoeuvred his horse out to the middle of the road.
    ‘And Kempster,’ called Wolf.
    He looked back. ‘It’s counted.’
    Kempster’s mouth tightened, but he said nothing, just kicked his heels into his horse’s flanks and rode off.
    Campbell waited until Kempster was out of earshot before speaking. ‘He’s right you know.’
    ‘He is that.’ Wolf’s horse kept on walking. He glanced behind at where Miss Meadowfield followed.
    Her face was pale and covered in dust, but her eyes met his and held before she averted her gaze.
    ‘You’ve punished her enough, Wolf, I doubt she’ll try another escape after this.’
    ‘This is nothing of punishment, Struan. What the hell kind of man do you think me?’
    ‘One that hates everything that Miss Meadowfield represents.’
    He gave a sigh. ‘I cannot argue with that, but the greater punishment would have been to take her up with me.’
    Campbell’s brow knitted. ‘You’re makin’ no sense. Come the morn’ she’ll be begging for you to take her up.’
    ‘On the contrary, Struan, Miss Meadowfield would rather crawl on all fours than climb up beside me.’
    ‘Taken a bit o’ a dislike to you has she? Cannae think why.’ Campbell raised an eyebrow in an expression of irony.
    ‘The mare bolted when she was trying to make a run for it yesterday. She lost control of the horse and it gave her one hell of a fright, not that she’d admit as much. She’s a poor horse woman; you saw how uneasy she was around horses even before yesterday’s episode. The woman’s terrified of riding again.’
    ‘That explains why she had a face white as chalk when you brought her back. But she was riding the mare then.’
    ‘Aye, she was that, but only because I forced her back in the saddle straight off. Best thing after an incident like that. Usually conquers the fear.’
    ‘Except it doesnae seem to have worked in Miss Meadowfield’s case.’
    ‘No, Struan, it does not.’
    ‘The lassie’s dead on her feet. Maybe this day of walking will make her change her mind.’
    ‘Somehow I do not think so,’ said Wolf grimly. Her discomfort served her right, he told himself, but he did not believe it. She had been so damned insistent on walking. It was not anything that the poor did not do every day of their lives. But Rosalind Meadowfield was not poor. Shehad not walked to collect water, walked to