She took hold of the reins and placed her knee in Islay’s hands. Though she landed in the saddle rather gently, the mare shook her head and sidestepped. “This filly has a bit of mettle.”
“That she does—I recall ye said a spirited horse.”
“I did.” Though the mare clearly wanted to run, Anya held her head low while Angus mounted and took up his reins. “Are ye certain ’tis a good idea to ride a stallion alongside a mare?”
“Aye, she’s been covered, and I expect she’ll have a wee foal come autumn.”
“Then I’d best be careful.”
The corner of His Lordship’s mouth ticked up while a bit of mischief flickered in his eyes. “If she’ll allow it once we reach the moor.”
Anya sat taller, ready for a bout of good sport. “How far is it?”
“A good hour’s ride or so. ’Tis called the Oa.”
“Hmm. What an unusual name. Where is it from?”
“The place was named far before my time. The elders say ’tis from the time of the druids,” Islay explained as together they rode beneath the gateway and out toward the open.
“It must be magical.”
“Aye, in beauty, I say.”
“Then let us not delay.”
Tapping her heels, Anya cued the mare for a canter. With a rolling laugh, Angus soon took the lead, riding through Lagavulin, and past the brewhouse on the far end of the village. Once they were well away from the townsfolk and a croft dotted the hills here and there, he slowed to a walk and ran his fingers through his horse’s mane. “I love it out here.”
“’Tis peaceful.”
“Aye, and there are no supplications to hear, no quarrels needing my intervention.”
Anya hadn’t seen him hear supplications, but by his tenor, he’d done so recently. “Do ye not hear the crofters’ pleas in the hall?”
“Nay, ’tis too disruptive. I hear them in my solar, which allows for privacy if need be.”
Anya smiled. Any overbearing brute of a lord would hear supplications in his hall for all to hear. But this man thought enough of his clansmen and women to meet with them behind closed doors. How very enterprising of him. And how very much not like the Fairhair monster of lore.
They rode side by side for a time, until fences and crofts were nowhere to be seen, and rugged moorland stretched before them. “Look there,” Angus pointed. “’Tis a herd of red deer.”
In the distance, the animals looked up from their grazing, posing as if trying to decide whether or not to take flight.
Anya ran her fingers through the mare’s mane. “Beautiful.”
Islay gestured with a sweep of his arm. “This entire peninsula is covered with birds year-round. Burns cut paths from freshwater lochs and peatland bogs further inland. And on the coast, they empty into waterfalls tumbling from the cliffs of Dùn Athad.”
“It sounds like Eden.” Anya picked up her reins. “We mustn’t delay.”
“A wee race is it ye’re wanting, lass?”
“A stallion against a mare? Pshaw!”
“Only from here to the outcropping yonder. And I’ll allow ye five lengths.”
Anya leaned forward and kicked her heels, demanding a gallop. “I’ll see you there.”
As the wind picked up her veil, she laughed aloud, clapping a hand to her head to keep it from sailing away. Behind, the thunder of the stallion’s hooves came closer and closer. “Nay!” she shouted, slapping her reins, and leaning out further over the mare’s neck. “Haste, ye!”
“I’m gaining on ye, lassie!” Angus roared above the wind.
By the time they reached the outcropping, they were both laughing so hard, the horses had decided the race wasn’t to be taken seriously, falling into step alongside each other as if they were hitched to a cart.
Reining the horse to a halt, Anya threw her head back and howled. “Oh, that felt good.”
“Of all my lands, this is one of my favorite places.” His gaze shifted her way. “It is not often I allow anyone to come with me when I traverse the Oa.”
A number of questions arrested at the tip of her tongue. How many young ladies had he brought riding out here? Anya didn’t dare ask, lest he thought her jealous, or prying, or interested in him as a suitor.
Which she definitely was not. Nay, she didn’t give a whit about any of her silly questions.
His Lordship tapped his heels. “Come, I have something to show ye.”
As they rode through the grassy moorland, terns and gannets took to flight. Angus stopped and gazed out over what seemed to be the end of the earth and the expansive sea beyond. “This is Dùn Athad. From here I oft see dolphins and seals in the surf. In summer, her cliffs are alive with nesting puffins and gulls. And throughout winter, barnacle geese make their home down below on the beach and near the burns and lochs of Islay.”
“Are they the geese served for last eve’s meal?”
“Aye, thousands of them winter on my island. Ducks as well.”
Anya smiled to herself, fully aware this was not the Lord of Islay’s only island. Why such a powerful man would choose to spend the day with a prisoner of the crown, she had no idea. Was Elizabeth receiving the same treatment, wherever in England she had been ensconced? Anya rather doubted the Queen of Scotland had received much hospitality at all. After all, King Edward had imprisoned Isabella MacDuff in a cage suspended from the barbican of Berwick Castle to punish the woman for the mere act of placing the crown on Robert the Bruce’s head and declaring him King of Scots.
Perhaps, Anya had been truly blessed. She was the first to admit she’d had her reservations about marrying Lord O’Doherty. If she didn’t want children so badly, she wouldn’t give a fig about marrying anyone. As a spinster, she could return to Dunseverick and live with her brother. Mayhap when the wars came to an end, she would do exactly that.
She returned her attention to the vast expanse of water, the sky above speckled with birds diving for fish. Below, a beach came into view with sea-foam rolling onto the shore. “Can we ride down there?”
“Aye, but the path is not for the faint of heart.”
She shifted in the saddle, arching her brows. “Did I ever say I was one to shirk danger?”
The grin spreading across his lips was reminiscent of a cat stalking a mouse. “Follow me.”
About halfway down a precariously narrow ridge, Anya jolted as stones crumbled beneath the mare’s hooves. She almost squealed, but doing so would not do. She’d accepted His Lordship’s challenge and, no matter how slim the path or how steep the cliff, she mustn’t complain.
Her perspiring hands slipped inside her fur-lined gloves as she dared a downward glimpse of the rocks below, where, with one misplaced hoof, Anya and the horse would plummet to their deaths.
Have mercy on my soul.
She closed her eyes and didn’t open them again until the mare stopped.
“Ye made it, lass, and lived to tell about your courage,” Angus said, his voice filled with humor as he dismounted. “I did warn ye.”
Anya shook away her dread. “If one doesn’t leap into the unknown, one can never claim to have conquered it.”
In two strides, he was standing beside her horse’s withers. His palm smoothed over Anya’s thigh as his gaze shifted to her face. “Allow me to help ye to dismount, then I’ll hobble the horses.”