Oatcakes and Courage Read Free Page B

at the inn didn’t let on she’d seen us.”
    Anne nodded. “Thank goodness you said you liked her apple tart,” she said solemnly.
    They trudged on without speaking for a time. Their ears were tuned to any sound that might be an approaching horse or a man’s step. Anne felt ready to jump at the thrum of a partridge’s wing. Exhausted, they eventually came to a rise that overlooked the village of Ullapool – a cluster of low houses huddled on a small cape. The loch was as gray as the clouds, and flecked with white waves.
    â€œWell, here we are, then,” Ian said cheerfully. There was a crease between his eyes that betrayed his concern.
    â€œAye. Is the Hector in the harbour?” Anne asked, squinting.
    â€œThat’s her, at anchor,” Ian said, pointing. “See? Three masts.”
    Anne nodded.
    Ian regarded Anne. “Perhaps we’d best sit and talk for a bit.”
    Anne sighed and nodded. Ian led her to a rock wall just off the road and leaned against it. Anne found a stone at its foot, next to him, and perched on it.
    â€œWe’ve managed to get this far. But I’m not sure how we’re going to get you aboard the ship,” Ian said quietly.
    Anne chewed on her bottom lip. Then she said, “Well, I have been thinking since we left The Broom. I cannot travel as a single woman, can I?”
    Ian shook his head. “Nay, and they won’t accept that you are my sister. John Ross knows I only have brothers. And an unwed woman aboard… Nay.”
    Anne looked at the toes of her boots. “Then it seems we will have to pretend to be married.”
    â€œAnne, that’s…”
    â€œWell, what else can we do?” Her cheeks flushed. “We don’t have time to be properly married. Even if you wanted to. Andnow that we’ve come this far… Well, we cannot go back. We have to go on.”
    Ian pulled his hand through his dark hair and looked out over the loch. “I don’t know,” he said at last.
    â€œNo man will ever… I’ll never be married now. But I made my choice last night.” She peered up into his face. “Will you help me get aboard?”
    Ian brought his gaze from the loch to her face. His dark eyes softened.
    â€œYou’ve got me into a lot of scrapes, Anne Grant,” he said. “This one makes all the rest seem like naught.” He drew away from the stone wall and stooped to pick up their bundles. “But we seem to be going the same way, so…”
    Anne bit her lip to hold back the tears. They made their way toward the shore.

Chapter 3
    T HEY MET MORE AND more people as they entered the village: women with baskets of eggs or wooden water buckets, men bartering or passing the time of day. They passed by an alehouse and heard loud voices within.
    Ian stopped so suddenly, Anne walked on several paces before she realized he was not beside her. She turned and raised an eyebrow.
    Ian nodded toward a horse, tied outside an inn.
    Anne’s heart thudded. “Is it…?”
    â€œAye. See, that’s his bedroll tied still on the saddle. He must be inside arranging for another horse.”
    Anne grabbed Ian’s hand and tugged.
    Ian moved with her, but his face held a thoughtful frown. When they had gone twenty paces, Ian said, “You get out of sight, Anne. ’Round that shop, yonder. I’ll be right back.”
    â€œWhere are you going?”
    â€œI want to know where that thin rider is going. I’d be most glad to know he won’t be sniffing around here all night.”
    Anne scurried around the cottage at the end of the village lane, leaning against its wall and straining to hear.
    Ian sauntered back to stand in front of the alehouse. He tipped his hat over his eyes.
    Several minutes passed. Anne willed herself to keep still. She wanted to flee like a startled fawn.
    At last, the thin rider emerged from the livery doorway. He stretched his arms