Beyond a Doubt - By Felicia Rogers Page 0,2

mouth and dribbled down his chin. Once the fit passed, Bryce studied the person who’d spoken.

A young woman lay beside him. Water clung to her thin frame and she trembled. Her oval face was highlighted by brown eyes which angled up at the corners. High cheekbones bracketed her button nose.

“If you are done staring, do you mind me asking why you were drowning yourself?”

“Drowning meself?” he muttered in confusion as he noted her distinct French accent.

“There are easier ways to go.”

“I wasn’t drowning meself! From my perspective, ye were drowning me!”

“What?” Her eyebrow rose.

“That’s right. I woke up and struggled to reach the bank and ye pushed my head under.”

“Huh? I did no such thing. I was drinking and noticed you floating away like yesterday’s garbage. I saved you!”

Bryce parted his lips to argue further but shut them just as quickly. Had the water addled his mind and warped his manners? Looking more closely at the petite lass, he thought there was no way she could have held him under water.

“Aye, ye are right. Thank ye for yer assistance.” He thrust his hand forward. “My name is Bryce Cameron and I’m in yer debt.”

She ignored his hand as a questioning look covered her face. Since she didn’t speak, Bryce stood on his wobbly legs and studied the area. Floating down the river had caused him to lose track of his horse and his belongings.

“This canna be happenin’.” With a direct look at the young lady, he said, “Did ye see a horse?”

The lass stood to her feet and mimicked his stance. Short in stature, next to him she appeared as if a small child. Her hands were placed on her slim hips, her eyebrows rose with irritation. When she spoke, her voice carried an even pitch. “Neigh, I have not seen a horse.”

He drew a ragged breath, raking his hand through wet hair. “I thank ye.” Away he peered, studying again. “I’m sure my horse rested just along the riverbank. But I’ll find her. Good day to ye.”

Bryce had taken a few steps along the rocky embankment when her shrill voice rang out. “You’re leaving me? You managed to soak me clean through and now you are leaving me to freeze?”

Bryce spun around; his feet wet and soggy, he sloshed back to the waiting lass. “Miss, please keep yer voice down.”

Her slippered foot rose and stomped the ground. She arched her eyebrow with pain as a rock, no doubt, pierced her tender skin. “I will not be quiet. I’m cold, I’m wet, and I’m hungry. Now what are you going to do about it?”

Bryce glanced around. The lass appeared without companions. The code of a Scottish gentleman would not allow him to leave the lass in distress.

“Lass, I will help ye. Come along.”

Not waiting for an answer, he turned and retraced his steps in search of his horse.

Chapter Three

The broad back of the man before her drew all her attention. Light brown hair hung in waves down to his neck. His shoulder muscles rippled and his arm muscles flexed. Lucille gulped.

In the beginning, Lucille had had no intention of asking the Scotsman for help. But truth be told, she was a woman alone and in need of help in more ways than one.

She stretched her legs to their full length in an effort to keep up with the large Scot. Huffing and puffing, she struggled. Without warning, the man turned, lifted her into his arms and carried her across a small stream of water that ran into the river. When they reached the other side, he gently placed her down without even speaking.

On and on they walked. Lucille found it highly unlikely the man had drifted so far downriver. Perhaps ownership of the horse was a hallucination. Maybe the man was suicidal. What had she gotten herself into?

But around the next bend, a horse waited. The animal neighed at its returning master.

“Aye, there ye are, bonny one.”

Bryce’s affection for the animal was unusual. He stroked its nose while offering words of encouragement. Bryce directed words toward her. “Miss, may I help ye astride?”

“Excuse me?”

“Yer shoes are hardly fittin’ to travel the Scottish countryside. If ye ride upon Emissary we will travel much faster.”

“Oh, yes.”

He interwove his fingers and placed his cupped hands beside the horse. Lucille fitted a foot snugly inside, thrusting herself upward until she straddled the mare, adjusting the pack poking her in the back. Once she was settled, Bryce grabbed the reins. With Bryce beside her, they