Regency Proposal: The Laird's Forbidden Lady / Haunted by the Earl's Touch

She grasped the stallion’s mane. Ian took a few steps at a run, then leapt up behind her. Impressive.

The sound of men in heavy boots echoed off the gully walls along with curses as they slipped and slid on the tricky path.

‘Time we were gone.’ He leaned forwards and they were off.

The feel of his hard thighs cradling her buttocks was positively indecent. So was his arm around her waist. But locked in that strong embrace, she felt perfectly safe, when she should be feeling terrified.

A cry went up behind them. The Revenue men must have heard the beat of the horse’s hooves on the sand. It also meant they weren’t far behind, but a man on foot was no match for this horse, even carrying two riders.

She set the horse’s head towards the zigzagging path at the other end of the cove. A gentler climb up to the headland. They were halfway there, when a stream of men poured onto the beach from that direction.

‘A pincer movement,’ Ian yelled. ‘That’s how they meant to catch us.’ He yanked the horse’s head around. The beast turned in a circle while Ian scanned the cliffs and the men coming at them at a run from both sides at once.

‘Look’s like we’ve only one option,’ he yelled. ‘Keep your head down.’ He set the horse running at the sea.

Her mouth dried. Her heart thundered. What could he be thinking? They’d drown. From horseback, the sand looked very far away. Too far to jump off. At this speed there was nothing she could do but hang on.

The wind whipped her hair out of its pins and it flew wild in her eyes. She leaned low over the horse’s neck so Ian could see where they were going.

Where were they going?

Surf splashed up around them. Ian didn’t slow the horse’s pace. The water hit her face like icy needles and soaked her legs through the clinging fabric of her skirts and then the wool fabric of her knee breeches all the way to her waist. She gasped.

A howl of dismay went up from the men running after them.

‘Load.’ The terrifying shout came from the behind them. They were going to shoot!

The horse tried to turn back as its feet lost contact with solid ground.

Ian slid from its back into the water. ‘Come on, Beau,’ Ian yelled. ‘It’s all right, lad.’ The horse’s ears pointed forwards, its body low in the water, its breathing fast and laboured.

A volley from the beach kicked up spurts of water all around them. Selina closed her eyes, waiting for the pain. Nothing.

‘Hang on,’ Ian shouted. ‘We are nigh out of range.’ He struck out strongly, with the horse trailing behind. Laying along the stallion’s back, her skirts a tangle around her legs, Selina clung to the horse’s neck for dear life. Waves hit her in the face with a salt-laden slap, making her gasp and blink to clear her stinging eyes. It was impossible that this horse could swim very far.

Another volley. Selina glanced over her shoulder to see the waterspouts a few feet behind and, if her eyes weren’t deceiving her, the men were already waist-deep in the sea. Surely they didn’t stand a chance of hitting them now. She prayed she was right and concentrated on holding on to the pitching beast.

Ian slowed and swam alongside. ‘Come on, old fellow, you can do it.’ He directed the horse to swim parallel to the shore, heading south.

How Ian kept swimming in such chilly water she didn’t know. Her hands and legs were numb, her teeth chattering. She tried to remember how far it was to the next beach and wondered if they would get there before they drowned. Or perished from cold.

It might be better to drown than be caught with a known smuggler. Father would never forgive her and even the placid Dunstan would never marry her.

When she’d finally found the perfect man and plucked up the courage to take the matrimonial plunge, she’d ended up up to her neck in the sea instead.

She just had to make it home without anyone finding out.

Chapter Six (#ulink_cbcfd149-05b8-5b70-8ada-12c0e68f19b5)

The cold seeped into Ian’s bones. He wanted to turn over on his back and float as what little heat he generated from motion was leached away by the chill of the sea. With an effort he glanced over at Beau and his passenger. The lass had heart and no mistake, but it was clear she’d not last long. And the horse was snorting and blowing hard, starting to tire.

He peered through the spray at the top of each wave, searching the shore, seeing only the faint phosphorous glow of sea breaking on rocks. There. A dark patch. He veered towards it, praying there were no watching eyes up on the cliff.

Unlikely. It would take those on the beach too long to make the climb, and surely they’d be more interested in chasing the contraband.

It had seemed like eons before he felt sand under his feet and heard the gentle hush of surf on sand. Not that there was much of a beach. A sliver, only revealed at low tide. But it was enough. The horse passed him, eager to be clear of the water, and pranced up onto the dry ground like a colt, while Lady Selina clung on for dear life.

Ian dragged his weary legs through the surf, weighed down by his kilt and grabbed at the bridle. ‘All right,’ he soothed, patting the sodden neck. ‘You did it, old fellow.’

He reached up for the girl. She fell into his arms a dead weight. Dear God, don’t say she was hit. He didn’t think the shots came anywhere close. ‘Selina. Are you injured?’

‘J-just c-c-cold.’ Her teeth clattered together.

He had the answer for that, if she could hold on long enough. ‘Can you walk?’

‘C-c-can’t feel my legs.’

Oh, hell, what had he been thinking? It was all right for him to swim in the ocean, he’d been brought up on it, swimming in the cold lochs in the hills when there was nowhere to bathe, but this delicate creature wasn’t used to such hardship.

He swept her up in his arms.

‘No. You must be tired.’

‘Aye.’ He was. But he was used to battling on, no matter how exhausted. Hardship was a fact of life in the Highlands.

He staggered up the narrow beach, clicking his tongue for the horse to follow. Rocks jutted out from the cliffs, forming a natural inlet invisible from the overhanging cliff top. From the sea at high tide, one needed a boat, but right now, the entrance to the cave was a gentle slope into the dark. A cave wrought by seawater and an ancient underground river.

He ducked inside.

The sound of the waves became a muffled roar—a bit like listening to a shell up against your ear.

The fragile body in his arms vibrated. Shivers. He was feeling chilled himself, but out of the wind it wasn’t so bad.

Beau shook himself, water drops flying. He obviously approved of the dry and followed Ian willingly.

The incline got steeper, rockier. The horse’s hooves slipped here and there, but the animal kept close behind, trusting. God, the whole clan had trusted him to bring this off tonight. And now he was stuck here with no idea what was happening.

If not for the girl, he’d probably be dead. And now she lay lifeless in his arms, her dark hair hanging like seaweed over his arms, her body cold and suddenly still. He should have called the whole thing off the moment he saw her. Got the men away. Ignored the boat.

Either that or given himself up instead of plunging into the sea. Please God, he could get her warm and dry before she succumbed to the cold.

The cave was black as pitch and freezing, but he knew it as well as he knew his own bedchamber in the dark. His senses told him when the passage opened into the cave proper. That and the light touch of air rushing by his cheek. He set the fragile female in his arms down on the sand. She struggled to a sitting position and he felt relief flood through him at the sound of another round of clattering teeth.

‘Wait there,’ he said and felt his way to the corner where he found several oilcloth-wrapped parcels.

It wasn’t long before he had candles lit, tinder and peat laid out for a fire and blankets spread on the floor. He lit the kindling from a candle and nursed the fire to life, gently blowing on the embers until flames flared up and beat back some of the darkness.

‘W-w-what is this p-p-place?’ Her voice was an echoing whisper.