The Chieftain Read Online Free PDF

almost at once that Hector’s hand had moved swiftly to his dirk.
    Any trouble, and I’ll use it, said his eyes, and she did not doubt their message. The thought crossed her mind fleetingly that if he were to murder her he would not see a penny of her fortune. But she was not - yet - so desperate as to take that risk.  
    Obedient to his unspoken command she swallowed her tears and the journey was resumed as if there had been no interruption. But that tiny momentary outcry seemed to have stirred some numbed place in her mind to new life, for she was thinking fast.
    From the moment when Hector had possessed her in the loft, she had come to a dull acceptance of that fact, and its implications. She was his wife for ever and ever, until death at last came to release her, and a wife must, in law, submit to her husband. There was no way out.  
    But now, like a sudden gleam of sunlight through the dreary fog of her despair, came a reviving doubt. Was that really true? Was there really no escape? If she fled now from Hector, surely the law must protect her? Nothing that had happened today had come upon her by her own choice. She had been terribly, deeply wronged. She had been kidnapped and forced against her will into becoming Hector’s wife. That brief marriage ceremony, the vows she had made, the response of her body to Hector’s   mating with her, could surely mean nothing set against those bleak facts.  
    She had no illusions about her future, even without Hector. Soiled as she was now, no other man would ever want her - not even gentle John Campbell, for he was the most correct, the most upright of men. But if somehow she could escape, if the law would free her... Oh, for peace and solitude, and the loving care of her parents! She could ask for nothing more.
    Yet there ahead of them lay the sea, and on its shores perhaps a boat to take them to Ardshee. If once Hector had her on board she knew that her hope of escape would be lost.
    She glanced round. Hector’s expression was as preoccupied as ever, but she did not allow herself to be misled. That catlike instinct of his would warn him of any false move on her part, almost before she made it. Another man, on horseback at her other side, was very likely as prepared for any emergency as his chieftain. And the other two Highlanders who loped tirelessly behind and in front of her would not even be handicapped by the need to control a frightened mount in the event of trouble. In any case, one of them had a firm grasp on her pony’s bridle.
    Yet if there were other people about, onlookers, who might see her need and come to her aid—Would Hector dare to use that long-bladed dirk if there were impartial witnesses to seize him and swear to his crime in a court of law?
    Ahead of them lay a little cluster of houses, neat and white, gathered on the shore. Isobel prayed that this time they would not pass them by.
    They were close enough to see clearly the small figures of a woman and child in one of the gardens, when Hector gave the soft-voiced instruction to turn into a little wind-scarred wood at the roadside. Isobel’s heart sank. Was this the end of her final desperate hope?
    They crossed the wood and emerged into a meadow on the other side. The wind had risen now, blowing fiercely off the sea into their sun-dazzled faces. Now - if only they were closer to some kind of help - now was the moment to risk an escape. But the houses were still some way off, and the fields were deserted. If she tried to break free from them they would retake her easily. As they rode she gazed longingly at the little settlement, now well to their right. On their present course they would reach the shore several hundred yards from the houses.
    And then, just as the last grains of hope were sliding from her, they turned again, northwards, straight towards the village. A thin line of wind-blown trees shielded them from inquisitive eyes as they approached a low stone cottage set a little apart from the