The mute clansman handed Payton the reins and waited, as if he already knew. Payton pursed his lips in thought, cursed again to himself, and said it. “See that the wife is escorted here. To me.”

The man’s face broke into a grin before he left.

While the man went for his burden, Payton opened his bags to pull out dry boots of soft leather so they’d fold easily, and then he had another feile-breacan unfurled before his fingers grew too iced for the movement. Already the leather of his boots seemed melded to him and the clasp of his belt gave him trouble. As did the brooch at his shoulder. Frozen fabric dropped to his feet, and then he was rubbing briskly all over his body with the dry plaid prior to donning it. Then the spare length of wool. Then he was munching on a hard biscuit. He had time. On the other side of the horses, he could sense Redmond doing the same.

He was in the saddle and feeling surprisingly content, when Seth loomed from the whiteness, holding Dallis by her arm. It didn’t look like she’d come easily, if the angry sound of her words and sodden look of Seth were indicators.

“I am na’ a sack to be handled so roughly! And unhand me!”

“Seth?” Payton asked.

She stopped her tirade at his voice. It looked like she even slowed her step since Seth had to resort to pulling at her. All of which was satisfying. He couldn’t tell what expression she had on her face when she neared his side, since she had the plaid cloak swathing all of her, but he could hear the disdain well enough.

“I am na’ riding up there with you,” she announced, as if it were so.

“You are,” Payton replied.

“You’re soaked through and iced.”

Payton grunted. “Hand her up, Seth.”

“Aside of which, this Seth fellow is na’ capable of lifting me. He near dropped me getting from the boat.”

“Is this true?” Payton asked.

Seth hung his head, but he was pointing at Dallis as he did so.

“Seth tells me you made it difficult for him.”

“You should have beached your craft on land a-fore unloading it. ‘Twould have gone easier.”

“Too deep. Can you mount yourself, then?”

“You should have picked a cove with a beach then...and I am na’ riding with you.”

“Redmond?” Payton asked it, and lifted his head toward where the man was standing, watching silently.

“’Tis said Caruth clan possess sharp tongues and sharper wits. I can see the truth of both now,” Redmond answered.

Payton groaned before answering. “’Tis your plan,” he replied.

“Perhaps she canna’ ride and tempers the fear with the argue?” Redmond suggested.

“Get me a horse,” Dallis spoke up. “I’ll ride.”

“Perhaps,” Payton ignored her outburst. “Perhaps na’. We doona’ have that choice. We may have to tie her.”

“Na’ if you hold to her. Help her keep a seat. ‘Tis a long ride.”

“This is na’ a good idea. You take her.”

“She is na’ my wife,” Redmond replied.

“Will you both cease speaking of me as if I were na’ here?” Dallis asked.

“Aside from which, you ride Orion,” Redmond announced. “You ken he’s the strongest. ‘Tis why you chose him.”

Payton grunted. “You bring twine?”

“Never without it.” He was pulling at a bundle of it the man always kept wrapped about his sporran.

“He is not tying me. I am not riding with you. And I have tired of this man-game,” Dallis continued.

“On four?” Redmond asked.

Payton nodded.

“Doona’ start counting,” Dallis warned. “Either of you.”

“One,” Redmond announced.

“Just as we did in Aberdeen. Hook to crook,” Payton said.

“Two,” Redmond replied.

“I’m warning you--!”

They moved before three. As always. It was the best way to get a drunken clansman atop a horse for the ride home. His wife’s squeal was cut off as Redmond wrapped both arms about her from the back, locking her arms in place as he lifted her. Then, he moved forward so that Payton could grip her beneath the arms and haul her up, swiveling her sideways so her buttocks fit between his thighs and her head beneath his chin. He had his arms tightly about her, listening to the rapid pace of her heart, while he waited for the sting of her anger. All of it had taken less than the count to four. He was rather proud of their execution, since he’d never had a drunken clansman in front of him before.

And then something happened. Something horrid. Payton pulled in air on the pressure inside his chest that he’d never admit to. That would never do. Ever. In the span of a heartbeat, he worried over it. Hated it. Tried to kill it. Nothing worked. He had to release the inhaled breath and gain another. Not only did she feel wonderfully soft within his arms, but she had a particular smell he’d thought imagined. And then forgotten.