He shook his head. “’Tis common sense. The clouds are lowering; the air is growing heavier. Ye ken how still it is?”
She hadn’t been aware until he mentioned it, but it was strangely quiet, the only sound that of the horses plodding along. No hardy birds flapped their wings in the air; no animals scurried through the bushes, no rustling sounds of the wind through the bare branches of trees. Only silence. “I do, but why?”
“’Tis what the sailing folk call the calm before the storm. On the water, the seas will lie, they may even flatten, the wind drops, the sails flap in the lull. A good captain kens to batten down the hatches then, because the wind is about to shift and come roaring back.” He looked around. “The same thing happens on land, although ye canna see it so easily.”
Juliana glanced back at the sky. The snow was definitely getting heavier now, the flakes making her cheeks wet. “Should we turn back and wait for the storm to pass?”
“Normally, I would,” Rory answered, “but we doona ken where the Camerons are.”
“Will it not take them a day to get to Grant Castle and then another day back?” Juliana asked. “Besides, they will not know where we went.”
“We hope they doona, but Cameron is a suspicious one. Depending on how many men he has, he might split his party and send scouts out.”
She hadn’t thought of that. “Well, if they get caught in the storm, he will not get any news until he gets back to Fort William.”
“We canna count on that. Sometimes the storms pass quickly through.”
“Then we will keep going?”
“Aye, lass, but nae on land.”
She gave him a questioning look. “How are we going to get to Invergarry, then?”
“Loch Lochy goes practically to the gates of Invergarry,” he replied. “There is a boat landing where River Spean connects with the loch. We can catch a sailing ship from there.”
“Sail? In a storm? Is that not more dangerous than continuing on horseback?”
“Nae. These gales blow in from the west. We will be heading north. The wind will give the ship a good beam reach…” He paused at her obvious confusion and explained. “That means the wind will be coming over the side of the boat and filling the sails. ’Twill be a fast journey.”
She must have still looked wary, because he added, “And ye willna have to sit on a horse. Ye’ll be warm and dry below deck.”
That sounded wonderful. Out of the wind and cold and able to rest sore muscles… She drew a sigh of relief. “Let us do it, then.”
He nodded. “We will be at Invergarry in nae time at all.”
…
As they turned their horses toward the landing, Rory looked up at the sky again. Dawn had definitely broken, but the sky was still almost dark as night. The complete stillness of the wind did not bode well. He and his brothers and sister had grown up sailing on Loch Awe, and anyone who spent time on the water knew the calmer the wind before a storm, the stronger it would be when the gale struck.
He glanced at Juliana, who was still grimacing as she tried to find a comfortable position on Misty. No doubt she’d be glad to be out of the saddle, but he wasn’t sure she’d be happy with the boat journey, either. He’d told her it would be fast, but he’d not mentioned that the ship would be sharply heeled over, its rail in the water most likely the entire time.
Sailing up the loch was still the best option, though. Returning to the inn at Spean was too risky. He wasn’t at all sure Neal Cameron would accept the story of their heading toward Grant Castle or even if he would talk to the people at Fort William that they’d told the tale to. If he didn’t, he was likely to follow the river east toward the Pass of Drumochter, and Spean Bridge was directly on that route. Rory had no idea how many men rode with Neal, but fending off a half dozen or more was something he didn’t want to contend with. Especially since they were still near the border of Cameron lands.
Continuing to ride north with the approaching storm was not a wise decision, either. Blizzard conditions could form within minutes, and it would be easy to lose the trail. Nor was Juliana accustomed to traveling in such weather. London might get snow and cold temperatures, but it was nothing to the wind howling at gale force off the Cuillin Sound like a piercing knife of ice to chill a person’s bones.
Rory glanced over to Juliana. “We are almost there.”
“Are you sure a ship will be available?”
“Aye. Postal packets travel daily up and down the lochs. They doona leave the dock until the crews break their fasts.”
“That makes sense, I suppose.”
He nodded. “’Tis usually the only meal they can count on, since most vessels sail with a minimal crew and all hands are needed on deck.”
A wary expression crossed her face. “With so few men, will it be safe if the storm hits us?”
“They ken what to do.”
