"I see." Leslie's face was dark. "Is that all, Campbell?"
"One last thing. Pray, remind me, what was that word you learned on your continental campaign?"
"Aye," Leslie smiled broadly, "'tis a German word I've come to hold in high regard."
"Plunder!"
Chapter 9
She was tired, her face was cold and stiff from squinting, her hands covered in an oily grime of horse and dirt, and she hadn't been that saddlesore since she'd taken her first long trail ride at the age of nine. And it was only the end of their first day.
Magda hunched low in her tent and wrenched herself into a cross-legged position. She felt the slick of sweat under her arms and scowled as a fresh cloud of her own body odor filled the enclosed space.
"A problem, hen?" James scratched on the flap of canvas that gave her some semblance of privacy. "You're muttering like an old woman in there."
"I am not muttering."
"So say you."
She heard his chuckle and angrily pulled the flap aside. "I smell."
He inhaled deeply. "Like a rose on the vine, you are." James laughed then, and Magda swatted at him with the scarf of plaid wool she'd worn knotted tight at her chin all day. "Come."
"You've got another thing coming if you think I'll follow you again. I've followed you enough for one day."
"Come, come." He reached his hand into the tent. "I'll not bite. " He waggled his hand for her to take it. "No need to be churlish. I've prepared your bath, m'lady."
"A bath?" Magda ignored his outstretched hand and crawled from the tent.
"Aye, there's a wee burn not half a league hence."
"A burn?" She halted. "That's like a stream, right?" She began to edge back under cover. "I don't do burns. And a league sounds really far at the moment, so don't worry about me. I'll be fine."
"What, a braw lass like you. worried by some wee burn?" "But I think it's getting too late in the day…"
"Och. it's never too late. Come, my fair lady, perform your ablutions in nature's temple. You'll find a quick wash with naught but the sky overhead good for the soul." He took her hand from the dirt and gave a gentle tug. She didn't budge.
"I'm not great when it comes to water and the great outdoors."
James considered Magda for a moment, peering at her in the shadows of her tent. He gave a slight nod. "Then I promise to stay by your side. Come." The playfulness was gone from his tone, his voice kind as he guided her back out. "You'll feel the better for it."
He helped her to standing. "Truly. Less than half a league and you can lean on me as we go."
"But… won't the men look?"
"They dare not." He took her arm, and Magda let him lead her, walking in silence across a broad glen. It was lush and green and, at that moment, it felt very wide -open. She imagined the men's gazes at her back, no less keen for the distance they were putting between them.
"The men will be able to see," she muttered finally, deeply concerned over how exactly she was supposed to manage in some surely frigid burn, and looking for any excuse to back out.
James barked out a loud laugh and, catching her hand in his, tugged her into a run. She gave a startled shriek, then raced to keep up with him.
"If you'll not believe me, see for your own self." They jogged up a low sloping hill and Magda had to pump her arms to make it to the top. By the time they crested, she was winded, and laughing despite herself.
"You see?" A stream wound its way around the other side of the hill. Though small, she wouldn't have called it a burn. It rushed along quickly and, even though a cluster of gray rocks choked one section into a narrow channel, the water didn't look very shallow.
James pointed to a small copse of trees on the nearest bank. "Your bath, fair lass."
The walk downhill was more precarious, and she tentatively picked her way down, as much to avoid slipping as to come to terms with what lay ahead.