“Of course,” he said, appreciating her spirit. It was inevitable that he’d win the battle between them, but by heaven, he’d have fun along the way before he did.
“Pride goeth before a fall,” she said, then gasped as he hoisted her onto the pony’s broad back. She settled her delectable rump into the sidesaddle and took up the reins.
“In that case, you’d better do your best to hold on, signorina.” He caught the dun pony’s rein and rose into the saddle. He noted her sardonic expression. “What is it?”
“I’m not sure the pony fits the lord and master image as well as that gray mare did.”
Fergus brought his pony up beside hers. “There’s no mount more surefooted and hardy in the hills than these wee beasties. They’re very strong too – they’ll easily carry a full-grown stag of over 500 pounds.” He paused. “I forgot to ask if you ride.”
“I’m no great horsewoman, but I can just about manage something this size.” They headed out of the castle under the archway, the two shaggy black dogs trotting at the ponies’ heels. “At the English houses I stayed in, my reluctance to join in the fox hunt provided great amusement.”
This lady was sophisticated, accustomed to dealing with society’s upper echelons. He needed to remember that. Had any of those fine English gentlemen been her lover? No doubt they’d desired her. Any laddie would.
He’d recognized straightaway that she was temperamental and stubborn and headstrong, and not at all the kind of lassie he usually took on. Now that he’d known her a day and a half, those qualities made her the most exciting woman he’d ever met.
Their affair wouldn’t be a simple matter, but it seemed Fergus was in the mood for fireworks.
* * *
>
Marina should have expected Fergus to offer himself as her escort. She’d read the usual masculine signals that he considered her his exclusive concern.
She should be annoyed at yet more high-handedness from her host. Part of her was. Yet part of her was flattered and...thrilled.
As they wended their way into the hills behind the castle, she jogged along behind him. The track wasn’t wide enough to accommodate their ponies side by side.
“I suppose if I insist on going to Skye, you’ll come along as my guide.”
Those wide, straight shoulders moved in a dismissive shrug. “A good friend told me that once someone saves your life, the two of you are linked forever more.”
“That’s an alarming thought,” she said, her tone dry.
An amused grunt greeted her comment, although she hadn’t been entirely joking. “Aye, it is at that.”
“So if you’re to dog my footsteps, what is the point of my leaving Achnasheen?”
She felt the Mackinnon’s brief backward glance like a knife. “Is it so bad here?”
He didn’t look where he was going. She wasn’t exactly steering her pony either. With its broad back and swaying gait, the pony made her feel like she was in a boat, rocking on a gentle swell.
“I don’t like being a prisoner.”
“Is that really how you feel?”
“If I’m trapped and can’t leave by my own free will, how else would you describe it?”
Taking her pony by surprise, he pulled up. There was almost a nose-to-tail collision.
He turned in the saddle to face her. “Marina, I’m hellishly sorry if ye believe that’s the truth.”
The bristling silence extended. After a few seconds, she sighed.
“Oh, it’s not the truth, and you know it,” she admitted grudgingly. “And given your kindness to my father and me, that was an ungracious thing to say. I don’t understand why I have to assert myself against you all the time. I’ve met overbearing men before and handled them with a modicum of tact, while still managing to get my own way.”
“Overbearing, am I? You don’t pull your punches, do you?” Humor lit his eyes to bright silver. “I’ve never met a lassie who wants to fight me the way you do.”
She looked at him curiously. “In your whole life, no woman has ever stood up to you? What about your mother?”