The Chieftain Read Online Free PDF Page B

others. Hector must have friends there, she thought. Yes, for on the narrow stretch of beach beside it a boat was drawn up, and a knot of people waited, dark against the low sun. A wall reached from the shore to the house, providing a screen from prying neighbours.
    Isobel’s eyes swept rapidly over the scene, seeking for anything that might offer her that final chance. A gateway - an open space from which they could be seen by someone who might, just possibly might, help—
    She found it at last. A narrow rutted lane was just visible through a break in the trees as they came nearer. It must link the cottage to the other houses, to whatever passed for a village street, perhaps. It ran along the inland side of the cottage and bent sharply, close to the neighbouring house, before disappearing from view. It was just possible...
    She tried not to turn her head that way, for she dared give no clue to Hector, but her eyes never left the lane as they rode steadily nearer. All her thoughts were on it, and the hope it offered.
    Please, she prayed silently, please let me find a way!
    Ten yards to go, before they must follow a little path to the shore, and the waiting boat. Ten yards... nine... eight…The man holding her pony stumbled briefly on a half-hidden stone in his path. Just for that moment his grasp was less than firm.
    Just long enough for Isobel to reach out and drag the halter into her hands, dig her heels firmly into the pony’s rough sides—He snorted, shied, and broke into a headlong gallop.
    Isobel thrust her fingers into his mane and held on. She could not begin to guide him, at that frantic pace. She could only be thankful that he was carrying her inland, towards the gardens where they had seen the woman and child.
    Behind her came shouts, and the thudding of hooves. She kicked the pony again. Better a broken neck, than to be back in Hector’s hands—
    Three women stood talking at a back door. She called out: ‘Help me! Oh please help me!’
    She saw the faces turned towards her, white, open-mouthed. And then the thudding hooves were upon her, passing her—
    A pony swung across her path, a hand reached out—
    Her mount came to a shuddering halt, almost throwing her, and she looked up at the tall Highlander who faced her. She remembered him dimly from the ruined cottage - one of the witnesses to that mockery of a marriage. She gave a cry and threw herself from the pony’s back, running as fast as her legs could carry her, towards the women—
    But he was too quick. His hand was on her arm, she struggled wildly - and a fierce blow sent her down into whirling darkness.

    She came to rest at last on a hard prickly surface. Her head throbbed fiercely, each cruel spasm passing through her so that it seemed as if her body was never still. She opened her eyes to darkness, but even that little effort hurt her, flooding her with a wave of nausea. She closed them again, and lay while the throbbing lessened slightly, waiting for the dizzy pounding to cease.
    It was some time before she realised that the movement was not all in her head. The whole room was swaying, rocking from side to side with strange rhythmic creaks and the whining of wind. A deep   pulsating sound, like the distant eerie chanting of ghostly voices, underlined each rise and fall. She opened her eyes again, letting them grow accustomed to the dark, and sent out exploring fingers at her sides.
    She found that she lay in a small enclosed space, on a rough mattress on a hard wooden floor. All she could see, even now, was a faintly discernible square of lesser darkness, deeply blue and lit from time to time with stars: the night sky, passing from sight with each tilt of the room.  
    Then she understood. She was on board a ship.
    She sat up sharply, forgetting her head until a sickening clangour made her raise her hand to her eyes and groan aloud. It was only then that she discovered she was not alone. A dark figure emerged from somewhere below that dim