Highland Scandal by Mageela Troche Page A

signaling to the palfrey to halt and swung him down to his feet. He lifted his leine and gave a sound of relief. Rowen swung down to her feet. She held onto the saddle as her muscles protested, beating her from the inside out, and blood rushed to her toes. She swallowed her gasp of pain.
    Rowen looked behind her. Murray lands loomed too close for her to ease her tremors. The men could come upon her. She had to hurry. Not that her body cared, and she collapsed in the snow.
    Kenny ran to her. “Ma!” His wails bounced in her ears and through her skull.
    She forced herself to clasp his hand. “I am well. Do not fret.” Her voice was thick with exhaustion.
    “Ma, I wanna go home.” He tugged on her hand.
    “Nay, we are off to visit a friend. We have need of him.” She struggled to smile.
    “I dinna wanna see him.” He tugged at her plaid. “Home.” He slammed his hand into the snow.
    “Soon, my love. First, let’s eat.” She climbed to her knees and drew bread and cheese from the bags. She ripped a chunk of bread and cheese.
    “I wanna porridge.”
    “Later. But you must eat this for now.” She held out the bread. His little teeth dug into the day-old bread and ripped off a piece. He chewed it with a pout on his face. He looked like his father.
    She took a bite. “Come here. I do not want you sitting in the snow.”
    “You are.” He came and plopped down on her lap. She dizzied. She held onto him to steady herself.
    “Ma, ouch!” He squirmed in her arms and went straight and stiff. “You dropped cheese.” He picked it up and blew off the snow.
    She took deep breathes through her mouth. Tears welled in her eyes. She ached, feeling as if she had been clawed, torn to shreds. She swore she must be bleeding, feeling wetness then realized it was the snow soaking through her garments. She lifted her plaid about her head to capture some of her heat.
    There was a way to go, through mountains and across rivers. “Kenny, come along. We must get going. Eat in the saddle like a true highlander.”
    “Aye, ma. I’m Murray.” He puffed his little chest. With the scant reserve of strength and mostly, MacKenzie will, she lifted him into the saddle and tucked him among the skins. “Do not shrug them off, keeping them tight about you.”
    She saw his baby-fat rounded chin move in agreement. She grabbed the reins and walked alongside the horse. “I’m cold.” She halted and tucked the skins tighter about him. “Ma, you ride horseee?”
    “Not now.” Rowen needed to stretch her legs and rid herself of the stiffness. The snow had eased some pain, but she felt the wetness against her skin.
    “Ma, where are da men?”
    “Do you see the eagles flying overhead?”
    He tilted his head back to see. “I wanna un. Seanair promised.”
    She tensed as he spoke of Laird Murray. Kenny spoke with all the warmth and affection a grandson held for his grandfather. That man wanted to kill this boy…this innocent boy. The same boy Murray had held close and wiped away tears from at Eacharn’s funeral.
    “Aye, it shall be great fun.”
    “I want a dog.” He kept up a steady stream of conversation about everything and anything. He pointed out the oddest things. The way a Scot Pine’s trunk looked like a crooked old man or a face. He asked why it snowed…why it was cold…why his hands turned red…why his breath steamed up…and more.
    “Ma, why are you stopping?”
    “There is the river.” In mere hours, she would ride up to Gordon castle. She swung up behind her son and with a surge of energy, she sent her palfrey across the icy crossing. The peaty water splashed up from the fast moving current. Shingles and rocks littered the bed and the shore and once back on land. Rowen breathed a little easier.
    Patches of brown earth broke through the snow and bare trees dotted the vista. The land stretched out before them.
    “Ma, you’re makin’ me shake.” He laughed between the chatter of his teeth.
    His little body felt much