Highland Wolf (Highland Brides, #10)(42)

“Claray,” Conall said a few moments later.

She turned in question to find he was now dressed and waiting by the door. When he held his hand out and raised his fingers in a come-hither gesture, she stood and set the brush on the table, then crossed to him. Conall took her hand the moment she was within reach, opened the door and tugged her out of her room to hustle her up the hall.

Fortunately, despite his apparent rush, he wasn’t making her run to keep up with him as her uncle had done back at Kerr. While her husband was much taller than her and probably could have moved much more quickly, he chose a pace that allowed her to keep up at a swift walk with just the occasional skip to keep from falling behind.

The great hall was just showing the first signs of life as he led her down the stairs. None of her siblings were up yet. In fact, there was no one seated at the trestle tables at all at the moment. But servants were moving around, yawning and stretching as they set about their early morning tasks, their gazes occasionally moving to the linen hanging from the railing.

Claray took one glance at the broad strip of white cloth with her blood on it, and then ducked her head and avoided looking at it again. Honestly, to her mind, it was humiliating to have it up there. Now everyone in the castle knew what they’d got up to last night. Which she supposed they would have known anyway, but still, it was embarrassing, so she was almost relieved when rather than lead her to the table and sit her there on display for everyone to gawk at, Conall led her to the keep doors.

It was only as he pushed through them, tugging her behind him, that Claray recalled his uncle saying something about waiting in the bailey. Even remembering that now, she was startled when she saw the MacKays all mounted next to her horse and Conall’s mount, with her father, his stable master, Edmund and her cousins Aulay and Alick Buchanan standing before them.

Her gaze following two MacKay men riding away from the group toward the gate, Claray opened her mouth to ask what was happening. Before she could, Conall started down the stairs, barking, “Where is Claray’s horse?”

“This is Claray’s mount,” her father announced, and she couldn’t help noticing his pride as he glanced to the black steed pulling impatiently at the reins Edmund was holding on to to keep the huge beast from charging up the steps to greet her.

“It’s a stallion,” Conall protested as they reached the bottom of the steps. “Ladies usually ride mares.”

“Aye. Well, she rides him well, and the stubborn bastard’ll no’ let anyone else on his back so I gave him to her two years ago,” her father explained as Claray slipped her hand from Conall’s to move to the horse and give him a soothing hug. The moment she touched his neck and leaned her head on him, the horse calmed, rested his head on her shoulder and raised his front leg to hook his foreleg around one of her calves in his version of a hug.

“I forgot the stubborn bastard liked to do that,” Alick said on a laugh as her horse dropped his foot back to the ground. “It’s the only horse I’ve ever seen hug back.”

Claray thought she heard Conall mutter something, but couldn’t make it out, and then he was beside her, urging her further along her mount. But when he tried to lift her into the saddle, she resisted and pulled back.

“If we are riding, I’ll need to don braies,” she protested.

Conall blinked at her and then lifted his head to stare at the saddle. “’Tis no’ a sidesaddle.”

“Nay. I never ride sidesaddle. ’Tis why I need braies,” she explained quietly, and didn’t add that that was the only reason she still had her beautiful horse. Her father hadn’t wanted her traveling to her cousins riding astride so had made her leave the stallion behind and travel in a cart. It had made for a much longer and uncomfortable journey there, but she was grateful for that now since her horse would have been left behind when Conall had carried her off from Kerr.

“Braies,” Conall muttered, looking vexed, but then they all turned toward the keep when the doors opened and Mavis came bustling out.

Waving a bundle of dark cloth overhead, she hurried down the stairs, calling, “Ye’ll need these, lass. I saw ye’d forgot them as I was straightening yer room,” the maid added as she came to a breathless halt before her. She paused then, however, to take in the situation, and then urged Conall back a couple of steps, and took up position before Claray with the horses on either side of her. “Pull ’em on quick, lass. Ye can no’ be riding without ’em.”

Claray’s mouth opened, and then closed, and then she glanced around. Conall blocked anyone seeing her from behind, and she couldn’t even see the MacKays from where she stood between the horses, but her father, Edmund and her cousins were just on the other side of Mavis. When the foursome turned toward each other and away from her, she gave her head a shake and donned the braies, stepping into them and yanking them up under her gown.

“There we are,” Mavis said with satisfaction, brushing down her skirts as Claray let them fall back into place over the pants. “Ye’re all set.” She fussed over her for another moment, and then raised sad eyes to her face, and murmured, “I’ll miss ye, child. Come visit as often as ye can.”

Much to Claray’s horror, the woman then dashed away a tear and turned to hurry back the way she’d come. Whirling on Conall, she asked with growing dread, “What’s happening? Where are we going?”