Summer of Love (27 page)

    
Hampered by his injury, he needed Helen’s help to mount the horse and
then pulled her up behind him. She put both arms around his waist and
clasped her legs around the horse’s rump as best as she could. As he turned
the horse away from the lochan, Robert yelled: "I ravished her, lover boy,
and she wanted more. She’s probably with child already! My child!"

    
Andrew did not respond.

    
"He’s lying, Andrew," murmured Helen.

    
"I know, Helen. He’s just a desperate fool." He kicked the horse into a
trot. "Hold on tight, love."

    
"You whore, I’ll get you! Kill you both. You won’t get far! … Whore …
whore … whore!" Robert’s hoarse cussing followed them from afar, the
echoes mocking them.

    
He felt Helen shudder at his back and put his left hand reassuringly over
hers, squeezing them. She rubbed her head against his shoulder.

    
He rode rather carefully. Although he could easily find the path down to
Achmore in the bright moonlight, they couldn’t afford any mishap and going
more slowly now would do little to their chances of getting away safely.
Both were silent, except for the occasional reassuring "I love you."

    
Just as dawn suggested itself on the horizon, they crossed the Dochart
above the falls, a few hundred feet west of Killin. Andrew reined the horse
in the darkness of a clump of firs.

    
"Helen, I think I should go alone to fetch my things at the inn. If anybody
saw you there with me, they might get suspicious."

    
"Yes, Andrew."

    
"This is a good place for you to hide … or are you afraid to stay here alone
for a while? I won’t be long."

    
"No, I’m not afraid."

    
She sounded subdued. He helped her down. All of a sudden, doubts
assailed him about the wisdom of leaving her alone. It wasn’t so much that
somebody might discover her. He was more afraid that she might change her
mind about coming with him and leave. He clambered off the horse too and
held her close, begging: "Helen, promise me by your love for me that you’ll
stay here until I’ll come back and not run away? … Please, promise?"

    
"I promise, Andrew. Don’t be long!"

    
He hugged her. "I love you so, Helen!"

    
"I love you too, Andrew!"

 * * *

At the inn, Andrew made various attempts to raise somebody, knocking at
doors and windows. Finally, the innkeeper opened the wicket of the main
entrance.

    
"Who makes such a racket? What do you want at this time of the night?"

    
"It’s Andrew Campbell, I took a room with you some ten days ago.
Please, Mr. Nichols, let me in!"

    
For a moment, the innkeeper failed to react, then he exclaimed: "Master
Andrew?" But caution quickly returned and he said: "Come closer so I can
see you."

    
Andrew complied, placing his face into the narrow cone of light falling
through the opening. A few seconds later, the key turned in the lock and the
door opened.

    
"Come in, master Andrew. Where have you been these past three days?
We worried about you. A young man asked for you several times."

    
"I had a bad accident. I’m lucky I made it back in one piece."

    
"Yes, look at you! You even lost your hat."

    
In fact, Andrew’s clothes were disheveled, his short waistcoat crumpled
and his leather breeches had blood and earth stains. It was difficult to guess
the original color of his stockings. His hair hung down loosely.

    
"As I said, I’m glad I didn’t get injured more seriously, just a bad gash in
my leg." He pointed at his left thigh.

    
 While he locked the door the innkeeper briefly looked at the hole in
Andrew’s breeches and exclaimed: "This looks like a bullet hole. I’ll ask my
dear wife to have a look at it later on this morning, Master Andrew. Don’t
you worry about it. She has taken care of many a wound."

    
"Ah, this is a very kind offer," replied Andrew, "but as it is, I’m now late
for catching the boat. So I must hurry off right away. I’ll just pack my
things… Oh, there’s something else where you may perhaps help me. I
completely ruined my saddle in the fall, but fortunately the horse was not
hurt. Would you have a good saddle I could buy?"

    
The innkeeper removed his night cap and scratched himself at the back of
his head. "Mm … I’ll have a look in the stable. I think there’s a fairly new
saddle somewhere." But the sudden glint in his eyes left little doubt that he
was eager to sell it, hoping for a rather good price. He shuffled to the back of
the inn which led to the stables.

    
Andrew hobbled upstairs, favoring his left leg. In his room, he undressed
and washed himself quickly, put on a clean shirt, stockings, and velvet
breeches, and knotted a new kerchief around his neck. Then he packed his
few belongings into his saddle bags. He slipped his dagger under his belt and
checked the two pistols, glad that he had left them behind before going into
the mountains. After combing his hair, he gathered it into a tail and put on
his French beret. A quick check of the room, and he was again on his way
down the stairs, just as Mr. Nichols returned from the stables with a saddle
that he had dusted off superficially, revealing that it had seen a lot of
use—not fairly new as he had proclaimed.

    
After a bit of bargaining, Andrew settled his account.

    
"Just one more thing, Mr. Nichols. I didn’t have much food lately and am
rather hungry. Would you be willing to pack me double portions of your
marvelous sausages, cheeses, and breads? I add another two shillings for it."

    
"Wouldn’t you rather eat here at your leisure? I can make you a fresh cup
of coffee," ventured the innkeeper.

    
"That’s very kind of you, but I really must be going right away."

    
"Why the hurry, master Andrew?"

    
"Oh, you know that I had wanted to leave already a week ago and stayed
because you told me I should not miss the dance. With this accident, I’m now
really well behind and can’t lose more time or else I’ll miss my boat."

    
Shaking his head, Mr. Nichols disappeared in the larder, while Andrew
busied himself with saddling the horse. The old man soon returned and
handed Andrew a fat pouch.

    
"Thank you for your kind hospitality, Mr. Nichols. You can be sure I’ll
recommend your inn to other travelers. And now I better be off." Then it
occurred to him that he could sow false information. "It’s a long way to
Dundee. I surely hope I haven’t missed my boat."

    
Somewhat clumsily, he swung himself into the saddle and bent down to
shake hands with the innkeeper. As he set his horse into motion, the latter
shouted: "Mind the road near the castle. You have to keep right to go along
the loch."

    
Andrew waved in acknowledgment and trotted down the road. He was
glad that he had given Dundee as his destination. Like this, the innkeeper
would confirm that he had seen him ride east toward the true left of Loch
Tay. After the last house, Andrew turned, skirting the town, and cantered
back along the marshlands to the little forest, the uneasy feeling of having
left Helen there alone growing by the minute.

    
The sky had taken on a delicate, milky white, so typical of a rare clear
early morning. A crown of gold was forming around Ben Lawers, heralding
the rising of the sun.

    
He entered the trees and stopped at the place where he had parted with
Helen. She was not there, his unease escalating into panic. His heart missed
a beat when she came out from behind a tree trunk. He jumped off the horse,
winced in pain as he jarred his left thigh, and rushed to her.

    
"I was afraid you had left me, Helen," he murmured, holding her tightly.

    
She raised her head, the first smile of the day on her face. "Andrew, even
if I wanted, I can’t go back. I’m too scared of Robert and my father. You’re
stuck with me."

    
He kissed her. "I like nothing better than being stuck with you… But now
we must be going. Are you up to riding behind me, until we can get you a
horse?"

    
"Do I have a choice?" Blushing, she added: "Though, I’m rather sore from
rubbing my thighs on the horse’s back."

    
He looked embarrassed. Then his face lit up. He quickly searched through
his saddle bags and handed her a pair of white stockings and tight dark green
velvet breeches that he had bought in France. "You could wear these under
your petticoat. They’ll protect you."

    
She held them against her to check their size. "They are a bit long, but
they must do."

    
She quickly removed her boots and slipped them on. Trying to tie the
loose front flap, she chuckled. "I’ve nothing to fill this."

    
"I’m glad," he replied with a smile. Getting crimson, she averted her gaze.

    
They rode briskly on the road west. There was no soul about yet. Neither
talked. Helen seemed subdued. In contrast, Andrew felt almost euphoric.
Periodically, he put his hand on Helen’s, clasped around his waist, as if to
make sure that she was still there, although he could feel her against his back.
Every time a wave of gladness flooded his heart. His Helen was coming with
him! He could hardly believe it. Even in his wildest dreams, he had never
dared to hope that she would actually consent.

 * * *

After half an hour, they turned south into Glen Ogle. The highest point in the
glen was still in grey shade when Andrew guided the horse into a copse of
oak, hidden from the road.

    
"Helen, let’s rest for a short while and eat something. I’m ravenous. Mr.
Nichols packed food for me."

    
"Yes, I’m glad to stretch my sore limbs too … and a bit of food will be
nice."

    
They munched on the delicious cheese and bread. A smile lit up Helen’s
face. "You know, Andrew, whenever we’re together, we always seem to
have these little banquets."

    
"We will have many more. In Edinburgh we shall dine in one of the best
restaurants in the city."

    
"Will we?" She had never been to a restaurant, not even an inn. She had
only read about them. It all felt a bit overwhelming. "I’ve never been farther
south than Balquhidder. How are we going to get to Edinburgh?"

    
"If we can buy a horse for you at Lochearnhead, we should be able to
make it to Stirling by tonight. Another hard day’s ride and we’ll be in
Edinburgh. They’ll be long rides. Do you think that you can manage,
Helen?"

    
"If I must, I will." She just hoped that the chafing would not get any
worse.

    
"The quicker we leave the Highlands behind, the safer."

    
"Yes, my father will be coming after us the moment they find Robert. I’m
certain he will, or I’m not a MacGregor." She smiled at her own choice of
words, and Andrew returned her smile. "And he won’t give up at Edinburgh.
He’ll follow us into England."

    
"I guess you’re right, but if we cover each day a distance like this, we
should be able to be a day or two ahead of him. Anyway, we’ll just stay long
enough in Edinburgh to buy additional clothing and other things we both
need." He hesitated. "We could get married in Stirling, Helen."

    
She did not answer right away. Somehow she felt not yet ready for that
step. Everything had happened too fast. She felt that she had lost control over
her own destiny, that she needed to sort out her thoughts first, to become
master of her life again.