“Aye,” Tarrant said. “She’s sweet. Keep yer hands off her as long as ye can, Lenichton.”
Rolling his eyes, Leith said, “I won’t be touching her at all.”
Stepping away, Tarrant snorted, “We’ll see about that.” Lifting his hand, the Laird gave the silent command to the guards on the watchtowers for the bridge to be lowered. While it was being lowered, Leith mounted his horse. “Lady Robasdan, remember me word, I will come chargin’ if ye need help.”
“A little too late for that, me friend,” Lady Robasdan smiled, while wrapping an arm around her husband’s burly frame. “I’m already in too deep.”
Chuckling, Leith turned his horse toward the gate and rode to where Mary was seated. She skillfully turned her mount and rode with ease toward the bridge. Seeing her ride, he could understand how she had gotten to Scotland on her own, she was a skillful rider.
They passed the bridge and went east of the Robasdan forest to get to Ettrick Waters in silence. The only sound between them was the clip-clop of the horses’ hooves and the birdsong above them. Seeing her ride with one hand holding the reins, he knew he had to speak.
“Ye ride like a natural,” he commented. “When did ye begin to learn?”
After a quick look over at him, she replied, “I was nine. My parents had cut me off from all other activities…playing cards, having dolls, eating undue sweets…deeming them lusts of the flesh, so I begged them to let me learn to ride. Riding was my constant solace for many years. I mastered the craft at fourteen and from then it became my main joy.”
Nearing her, Leith considered, “Surely there had to be something more. It seems inconceivable to me for ye to live without one pleasure.”
“It grew with me,” Mary said calmly. “When you are young, things make a deep impact on you more than when you are older. I thought it was normal at that age, but as I grew older, I began to resent it. I even went against the norms of the country and taught my maid to read.”
“I was very curious as a boy,” Leith said. “Dropped into a dry well on a jaunt for finding hidden treasures. I stayed there for half a day determined to nae call for help. I was decided on getting out meself or die trying.”
Shooting an amused looked at him, Mary asked, “Did you?”
“Aye,” Leith said. “Cost me two skinned knees, a nearly broken arm, and sprained ankle but I climbed out. I was as dirty as the Loch Ness after a swelling.”
“I can’t say my childhood had more than reading the Bible and learning how to knit,” Mary replied. “As I said, the only enjoyment I had was riding.”
“Another thing I loved was played with swords,” Leith added. “Nearly skewered meself clear in half too.”
“Really,” Mary laughed, “how did that happen?”
Leith was not able to reply as her laugh was still in his ears. It was light and a little hesitant but lovely overall. “It was me Faither’s broadsword and I was a scrawny little wisp of a thing, kenning I was old enough to handle a weapon that was as long as I was. Lifting the pommel had me huffing like a wounded boar but I kept on.”
“And what happened to make you almost kill yourself?” Mary asked.
“I kent swinging the sword would make it easy to lift but I ended up spinning the bloody thing unto meself to carve through me thigh, thank God, me Faither came in,” Leith said. “Funny thing he was watching me all the time to see if I could manage, but when he saw I wasnae, he stepped in. Me Faither dinnae coddle me. He was a swim or sink kind of person. Ye had to prove yerself or die tryin’.”
“My parents left almost everything to God; guidance, correction, even praise for doing something right,” Mary said hollowly as they trotted past the forest line and cantered into a large grassy meadow. “I had to seek God for everything they could have given me.”
And god, if he did not hear pain in her voice. The spring season was in its highest point, and the meadow was carpeted with high, vibrant verdant grass and multi-hued flowers that patchworked the land. Vivid reds, golden yellows, and burnt oranges broke up the somber green.
He reined his horse in when Mary stopped in the middle of the field. Mary’s profile was stunning. Her hair was loose and flowing down her back and her chin was tilted up, thus exposing his eyes to the curve of her neck, the arch of her cheekbones and the noble tilt of her nose.
Leith did not know much about the old-world goddesses, but at that moment, he swore that she was the embodiment of Diana, a goddess of noble virtue. She closed her eyes as her head tilted toward the sun and her lashes and long curve on her chin made his stomach clench.
God’s blood, she’s…beautiful.
Seeing her lips slip open and a breath leave her lips, Leith had to turn away. The urge to taste her lips had rammed into his gut harder than a gauntleted fist.
“Your land is stunning,” Mary said with admiration.
With his chest swelling in pride, Leith nodded, “I ken, it’s worthy for a painting. We delight ourselves in holding these glens pure. Our forests, lochs, and mountains are what makes this country. The soil under our feet is a part of our blood and bones.”
Mary began to ride again and her voice was laden with resignation. “I wish I could say the same about England. We are as separate from our land as the east is far from the west.”
“And that is where ye fail,” Leith said while moving his horse near her. “Ye should honor the land, after all, when one dies, it is where we all go.” His sober words were starting to make him pensive, and probably Mary. He could not have that,
