Author: Ann Marie Scott
Category: Other
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Intrigued, Blair stayed on Pooka to see who else came out.
There were sounds coming from inside the tavern now, and from the noises being made, everyone inside was deeply unhappy at not being able to run outside with the first exodus of men. Blair could discern the occasional shriek and plea amidst the crashing of furniture and breaking glass. When only a few whimpers could be heard, the doors swung back once more, and Slaine came out.
“Yer faither went home via Cromachy,” he said, vaulting onto Maximus and urging the stallion into a brisk trot. He did not bother checking behind him to see if Blair was following.
Blair was thrilled. In all her quiet existence back home on the farm, she had never imagined that men like this one lived and breathed beyond the pages of fairy tales! A tingle of pleasure coursed through her veins as she visualized what Slaine had done, and he made it look so easy. She gave Pooka the order to follow Slaine’s stallion and, for the first time in three days, gave her venture a better than average chance of success.
She had to make Pooka canter to catch up with Maximus.
“Hoots! I say, ‘twas marvelous what ye did back there, Chulainn...I mean, Slaine. Did ye use yer sword or fists? Did ye kick them with yer boot a bit? I would have loved to see that,” Blair babbled when she caught up with her hero. “They spilt the beans pretty fast, nae so?”
“Aye,” was all the reply she got.
“Goodness me, is that all ye have to say? Will ye nae share with me a few more details about what happened?”
“Nay.” Slaine spurred Maximus to go slightly faster.
Blair grew angry. “Listen up, mister! I pay ye, at least I promise to do so when we’re finished, so when I ask for details, please give them to me!”
Slaine gave her a sideways look, saying gruffly, “I gather ye get yer own way a lot back at the farm. What is it? Yer mither’s an invalid, nae able to do much, and ye’ve had to pick up the slack reins? Faither’s away from home enough to make ye feel ye’re in charge?”
Blair closed her mouth, too shocked at how accurate some of Slaine’s assumptions were. It was the first time in her life that she was torn between anger and admiration.
7
First Night Together
“We’re never going to make it all the way to Cromachy by nightfall,” Slaine said after two or three hours of their riding the horses, half at a walk and half at a trot, toward the town where they had every reason to believe Angus was held. “How do ye feel about makin’ camp?”
“Well, I never!” Blair had decided that the best course of action when talking to Slaine was by resorting to biting sarcasm. After hours of silence, she was overjoyed to hear him speak to her but too resentful at what he had said to her miles back down the road to forgive him for it. “I had forgotten I had anyone riding beside me at all! And when ye spoke up just now, I nearly fell off me horse with shock.”
Slaine said nothing, but eased his leg tiredly over the horse’s saddle and went to stand beside Pooka with his arms outstretched to catch Blair as she dismounted. She had no other choice than to accept his offer with all the grace she could muster and allowed him to lower her gently to the ground.
It was the most delightful sensation to be lifted free and clear of the saddle, and for one amazing moment, Blair felt as though she knew what it was like to fly. She was almost sad when her feet connected with the grass.
They had left the Highland mountains and seacoast behind them and were approaching the lochs. The trees grew thicker and higher, and the land was flat for the most part. Slaine knew before they reached the loch, there was a strong possibility of bogs, marshes, and plummeting crevasses. His brow was furrowed as he mentally prepared for what might be ahead. In the past, he would have done this reflexively, as his duty to his client, but since first laying eyes on Blair as she refused to be intimidated by the men at the alehouse, he had a desire to protect her from harm, client or not.
They drew off to one side of the road and began to make camp. Blair went deeper into the forest to search for kindling while Slaine cut down branches with his ax and cleared the ground of leaves and twigs. By the time she returned, slightly red in the face from walking amidst the humid trees, Slaine had a goodly pile of firewood ready to feed the flames.
“I beg pardon I took so long.” Blair had forgotten to be angry with Slaine. She was so happy and reassured to see him in the clearing waiting for her; his broad, muscular shoulders and lean hips instantly recognizable in the twilight. “I nearly got lost! All the trees look the same. But I found some nice dry moss and grass in the end.”
“I’ll take some o’ that moss with me and use it to light tomorrow’s fire, in case we have need to sleep outside again. Then next time, ye can use the fire to guide ye back to camp.”
Blair waited for Slaine to strike his flint and get the fire going, then she went to her saddlebags and brought out some spiced and salted sausages.
“There’s enough for two,” she said with a smile. “Do ye find ye have to eat more ‘cause of yer size? I can fry some more if ye like?”
Slaine said in a husky growl, “I’m big, nae greedy, lass,” then added as though she might think him ungrateful for her generosity, “Ye must have good eating back at the farm. What d’ye raise and grow there?”
Blair sat hunched over the pan Slain had brought out of his saddlebag, basting the sausages in fat, and shook her head. “I dinnae want to talk ‘bout that. To me, it’s boring. Sunup and sundown, day in an’ day out, the same auld thing: feed the hens, collect the eggs, herd the sheep and goats, huzzah, huzzah, huzzah.” She sat back and crossed her legs underneath her. “I have to do it, even on holy days! Did ye ever think about that?”
Slaine said, “Hm.”
Given this great encouragement to carry on talking, Blair did.
“It’s nae that I find any of it nasty or extremely tiring, ‘tis only that there’s a certain predictability to each day that galls me when I think I have to do it for the rest of me life.”
She waited for Slaine to say something, but he stayed silent, watching the flames of the fire.
“I wish I had yer job,” Blair declared. “Tell me what ye do. I’ll wager ye’ve yet to have one day like the other.”
Slaine sighed. “Therein lies the irony. Each day bein’ different makes them seem the same. Ye would feel just as trapped in one long continuous adventure, if it were so true.”
Blair considered this. “I dinnae think so. Please tell me about some o’ yer escapades, an’ let me be the judge.”
“Hm, nay, ye tell me some of the stories yer faither told ye about this Chulainn,” Slaine countered.
“Didnae yer parents tell ye about him where ye come from?” Blair asked.
“Nay. Now get going with these fairy tales o’ yers.”
Needing no more motivation than that, Blair closed her eyes and cast her mind back to the cozy evenings sitting around the parlor fire with her father.
“Cu Chulainn is half god, half human, a bit like Hercules. He showed signs of being able to channel the power of the gods in combat from a very young age. For example, the story goes when he was sent away to school, he was bullied by the other lads and the event sent him off into one of his famous frenzies.
“This is what the bards say happened when Chulainn warped out with rage: His legs and feet would turn backwards and the muscles beneath his skin would grow to the size of a wild boar’s. One eye would sink so deep into the socket ye would need a dagger to dig it out while the other eye would pop out and lie on his cheek! His height would double, and his fingers would grow to be the size of a child’s arm. And each strand of hair would turn into an iron spike. What d’ye think of that?!”
Slaine was enjoying watching Blair’s face animate with excitement as she told her tale.
“How did he go back to normal afterward?”
“Ooh! That’s where bein’ half a god comes into it, dinnae ye think? He got his name when his battle rage came unexpectedly and h
e killed his friend’s dog. So, he offered to be his friend’s replacement dog for one year.”
“Did he get battle rages as a dog too?”
Blair narrowed her eyes at Slaine to check he was not making fun of her, but he was staring back at her calmly, waiting for the answer.
“He just did the same deeds a dog would do, guarding and hunting and such. That’s how he got his name; Cu Chulainn means watchdog or guard dog.”
“Guard hound,” Slaine said.
“There ye go,” Blair said in a satisfied tone. “And now ye’re mine—me guard hound—nae to be insulting or anything, but if ye ever had a dog as a pet, ye’d ken how lovely they are.”
Now it was Slaine’s turn to wonder if she was trying to make a jibe or not. But no, there was no sign of guile in her eyes.
The sausages finished and mead drunk, there was nothing else to do except prepare for sleep. Blair darted into the forest to find some licorice root and came back with two small cuttings. She handed one to Slaine. “I use this, or willow twigs, every night. Would ye like some?’
Slaine accepted her gift politely and then tried to take off his riding coat to make a pillow. He winced.
Blair was watching him as she rubbed her teeth with the chew stick. When she saw him flinch taking off his jacket, she threw the stick into the fire and went to him.
“What’s the matter? Are ye hurt?”
When he only offered a grunt, she snatched the coat out of his hands and lifted it up to the flames to see better. A small slash let the light through. Blair gauged where the slash would be on his body and walked around to his back. By the light of the fire, she could see his doublet was reddened with blood just behind the shoulder, and when she gently opened up the torn fabric with her fingers, she saw a wound oozing and caked with blood.
“Och now, honestly, Slaine, leaving this cut to sit all night is behaving like a real ninny,” Blair scolded. “It could turn nasty in a week, and then where would we be? I s’pose ye got it at that pestilent tavern?”
She poured out a small mug of water and set it by the fire to warm while she went to her saddlebag and took out a tiny chest. She moved to the fire and used its light to sift through the chest’s contents. Slaine watched her, an unreadable smile on his lips.
Blair took a small piece of moss and dipped it into the warmed water. She went behind Slaine and began to dab the moisture onto his back.
“There, ye see, it’ll feel better already.”
Slaine said nothing but had to agree. It was the first time since he had been a very small boy that he had ever allowed someone to go behind his back. When he felt Blair’s little hand swabbing his skin, he experienced an emotion he could not put a name to, but it was a deep and heartfelt one.
Blair, unaware her simple act of kindness and sympathy was one Slaine had not known for many, many years, carried on cleaning the wound but was also using the time to look at his body.
The skin on his back was smooth and browned by the sun, which made Blair think he must do some of his work shirtless. This guess was not far off the mark; Slaine enjoyed riding with his back under the warm summer sun when he was alone. Any pellucid spring water or pool would have him naked and swimming in it whenever he could—another one of the benefits of being a solitary man.
Blair went to her chest and brought out a small pot of salve. Using one finger, she patted the thick ointment onto the wound to seal it shut as best she could. As she did so, Blair’s eyes made a note of all the scars and ridges that marred Slaine’s skin. Some had healed in straight, white lines, others were jagged and raised, a few, more recently obtained, scars were purple and rigid. The skin on Slaine’s back was a map all of its own.
The wide shoulders and bulging triceps plunged down to form a massive V-shape created from his shoulder blades and broad back muscles, tightening into a slim waist and narrow hips. Then the muscles flared out again into his thighs and calves. Blair could not help herself nor hold herself back; she traced a line on the smooth skin with her finger, starting from the nape of his thick neck and moving down his spine.
Slaine gave a shiver.
Blair jumped back, stammering, “Some s-salve dripped down. Beggin’ yer pardon.”
Slaine did not know or care what caused her to run her finger over his body. All he knew was that it had felt thrilling. He realized the sign of how her touch had affected him was showing. He hastily pulled his jerkin over his crossed legs, saying, “We must get some sleep while we can, lass.”
Blair went back quietly to her side of the fire. They did not know it of the other, but it took a fair bit of time before they were both able to turn their thoughts away from what they had just experienced and drift off to sleep.
8
Go over or Around?
Something had changed. Both Blair and Slaine felt it when they awoke. The air was charged with a subtle tension, as though a lightning strike were about to explode on the ground around them. It was not an unpleasant sensation, however—far from it. The atmosphere was evocative of a chemistry beyond the scope of their understanding.
They broke camp in silence, each busy with their own thoughts. The first contact they made with one another was when Slaine stood by Pooka to lift Blair back up into the saddle. She wanted to tell him when he did this that it was one of her favorite parts of the day, but she thought it would sound patronizing, so the words were left unsaid.
After she had settled herself back in the saddle, she asked politely, “How is yer shoulder at the back?”
“Good, thank ye,” was his brusque reply, but a grateful and charming smile accompanied it.
The horses rejoined the road, and they headed west toward Croachy. The way narrowed as tall cliffs towered over them on either side. They made it impossible to see the sun, and the way stayed dark and gloomy.
Blair ventured to comment on it. “I never ken the lochs were so different from the mountains. This forest seems endless, and when there’re no trees, then there are rocks so high I can hardly see the sky.”
Slaine, who had never been down this road before either, did not like the terrain for other reasons. When there were cliffs and rocks, there would be caves, and where there were caves, there could be bandits. Without letting Blair see what he was doing, he loosened his sword in its sheath.
Then he realized she was in all likelihood waiting for him to reply. “Aye, lass, loch land is vastly different.”
She seemed satisfied with his response, and Slaine allowed himself to relax.
I seem to be getting the hang of this conversation thing! ‘Tis strange that someone would place such importance on the occasional utterance of words, but there ye have it. Traveling with a female is an experience all on its own.
Slain did not like to admit to himself that it was this female in particular whom he wanted to experience. All through his life, he had only ever come into contact with two types of women: strict old ladies like his foster aunt who were embittered by a disappointing life, and wenches. Slaine was quite smitten with his first encounter with an ordinary girl. His way of life gave him no opportunity to meet fresh-faced and beautiful young lasses. When most ordinary women saw him, they would either flutter their fans in suppressed excitement or look at him as though he had crawled out from under a rock. But Blair made him think he might have been missing out on something.
Blair caught Slaine looking at her from the side of his eyes. She drew Pooka to ride beside him, exclaiming, “I saw that look, Slaine, and I’ve come to recognize it as meaning one of two things: Ye’re contemplating a change o’ plans, or it’s time for us to stop and partake of some nuncheon.”
Slain smiled. “For such a wee lass, ye certainly think about food a lot.”
Blair would not be put off. “And why shouldnae I? I only ate a tiny bannock in the saddle this morn. So, ye have a change o’ plans then?”
“Ye also think about alternate schemes a lot, too,” Slaine mused.
“Ye’re the one who gallops o
ff toward taverns and towns without so much as giving me the chance to ken before it happens.” Blair was indefatigable with her interrogation. She was so busy needling at Slaine for details, she nearly did not see a wall of chopped down trees in front of her. Fortunately, Pooka did and stopped without her having to rein him in.
“What's this?” she said, and looked on either side of Pooka for signs of woodsmen and axes, but the ground was clear of debris.
Slaine said nothing but looked grim. The cliffs reared up on either side of the road, forming a crevasse out of the pathway. He had seen cut logs used as barriers before to corral deer into a kill zone or to drive men toward an avenue of archers. Both methods would prove lethal if such a plan were afoot.
He said nothing out loud; he did not want Blair to grow frightened. They were not well dressed enough to invite someone to kill or kidnap them in expectation of richer pickings.
“We must find another route,” was all he said, and gave Maximus the office to turn and face the other way. “It doesnae matter if it’s a bit longer. I dinnae like the look of this.”
Blair was outraged. “What! All the way out the woods to find another road just because of a pile of logs? When we can simply ride a bit of the way into the forest an’ go around them? Are ye mad?”
Slaine was stung by her tone and decided not to sugarcoat his suspicions any longer. “Aye! ‘Tis better we do that than risk meeting whoever planted these trees across our pathway, or are ye too blind to see that?”
Blair resorted to sarcasm again, “Och, pardon me. Why d’ye think I hired ye if it wasnae for ye to take care of circumstances such as this?” Blair pointed at the logs. “If ye won’t come with me around the barricade, then I want ye to move them, cut them or something—I care nae!”
Slaine was fuming. “Cut through dozens of logs thicker than a castle keep’s gateway? It’s ye who’s mad!”