Author: Ann Marie Scott
Category: Other
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“I order ye to do so!! If ye dinnae, I’ll go ’round anyway and take me gold with me!”
Now the two of them were yelling at each other fit to raise the dead, their voices echoing off the looming cliffs and resounding back at them. All the sweet understanding that had arisen between them the previous night had melted away like ice in summer.
Blair tried one last attempt to reason with Slaine. “Listen! I need to get to Cromachy quickly. Every minute we waste is one where me faither might slip further into danger. Let’s cut through the woods and take our chance.”
Slaine was adamant. He’d seen this trick pulled on so many travelers, he’d lost count.
“Nay. ‘Tis too dangerous. It’s a trap, the same as willingly walkin’ into a coney snare. An’ I’m no coney, Blair. Why d’ye think they placed it right here? It’s at that point where people such as yerself lose their resolve to turn back.”
Blair was torn. Half of her was willing to listen to Slaine’s line of reasoning and the other half—the impatient and heedless half—was desperate to get to Cromachy as soon as possible. She looked at Slaine’s resolute stance and crossed arms and no longer saw an ally; she saw a hindrance.
“Either we go over, or we go around. Which is it to be?”
Slaine gave Maximus the signal to begin trotting back the way they had come.
Blair was furious. She watched Slaine’s back disappear down the road, and it felt like someone was sticking a fish hook into her stomach and twisting it.
“Go on then! Hie back the way ye came, ye...ye...big lummox! I dinnae like ye no more, so there!”
Slaine was already so far down the road, the trees were able to stifle all of Blair’s words, but he could hear her high-pitched voice shouting at him all the while. Suddenly, the noise stopped. Hating himself for no longer being able to stop caring, Slaine turned around.
The road in front of the logs was empty.
Slaine felt his stomach lurch with apprehension. In a trice, he had Maximus turned around and galloping back to the spot at full speed.
Why could she nae follow me? Why is she so stubborn? I’ve met mules more reasonable than her!
He pulled hard on Maximus’s reins to make him halt before the wild stallion thought he should jump the barricade. The horse stopped in an instant, and Slaine had to grip the animal’s sides hard with his thighs to stop himself from tumbling over the spirited beast’s head.
The forest on either side of the obstacle acted like an impenetrable fence. The ground was thick with brambles and bushes, and tree branches took care of blocking all remaining room. Slaine jumped down from Maximus to inspect the ground closer. It was then he saw the logs on the right had had their branches pushed back by an animal of some strength.
So, the wee minx has decided to have her own way, even if it means riding her horse on through a thicket bristling with bandits and branches, and who kens what else?
Slaine sighed, swore long and violently under his breath, and began to track Pooka’s hoof marks through the forest, leading Maximus behind him.
The wood was the most uninviting environment he had experienced for many a long year. The air was suffocating and the ground was damp, the sun not being able to penetrate through the leaves. Slaine spent the first few minutes trying to swat midges off his skin before miserably accepting their presence and doing what he could to limit their access to his skin by wrapping his cloak around him. He would stop and listen every now and again in the hope he could hear Blair and Pooka in front of him, but the trees soaked up sounds like a dark sponge. Tree branches snapped back into his face and slapped his arms until he decided it was easier to mount Maximus and lie with his head down against the horse’s withers to avoid the low-hanging boughs.
He had plenty of time in the darkness of the woods to think about why he was doing this. At first, he was not even sure why his brain was urging him to follow the girl. Then a thought crossed his mind: perhaps it was not his brain...maybe it was his heart.
9
Old Trick, New Dogs
Blair knew she had done the wrong thing from the time she had urged Pooka to press through the dense foliage in an attempt to go around the logs. The moment she saw the logs were compelling any rider to follow a route of someone else’s choosing, she realized there were far darker forces at play than those of nature.
After only a few minutes of riding, Blair changed her mind, but by then it was too late. The forest had closed behind her as efficiently as an iron clamp, and she had no choice but to follow the way to its conclusion.
A lump formed in Blair’s throat she found impossible to swallow away. On one side of her were steep rocks and on the other, ominously enough, lay a vague track. It was freshly cut back and rough, but the diligent handiwork was clear to see. Many men had been busy trying to make the track look inviting enough for someone not to turn back.
Pooka did not like the path at all. He whinnied and jerked his head in the bridle from side to side. Blair had to use all her skills as a horsewoman to steer the frightened animal ever onwards. She knew it was a stupid thing to do and had every chance to deeply regret her decision to leave the side of her traveling companion.
Is that what I believe him to be, a companion? It hardly seems like the right word to describe a man I have come to depend on and need more than I ever thought was possible for a woman to feel about a man.
She cast her memory back to the alehouse, when she had first heard his deep voice offering to help her. And to the field when she looked into his eyes and just knew she could trust him enough to tell him she was carrying four gold coins with her.
What about when he strode into the Phoenix, just as though it had been as safe a place as a nunnery? He had done things in there she could only dream about doing to the people who had taken her father away from her. And then he’d been injured and simply shrugged it off as if it were a cat scratch.
But the night before had been the most eye-opening adventure for Blair out of all of them. When she had touched his skin, seen the muscles rippling underneath it, smelt the scent of pine needles and leather coming off his body, she had experienced a revelation so monumental it was impossible to put a name to it.
She had been impelled to run her finger over his back. It was as though her mind had stepped outside of her body and left her bodily urges to take over. If he had not given a slight shiver when she touched him and broken the spell, who knows what she would have done next? Licked him?
Blair felt her body contract at the thought of doing such a thing. Would he taste of salt? Would his taste and scent remind her of some fabled warrior, too big and strong, and yet powerless to resist her touch?
Blair’s daydreams had lifted her mind far up out of the forest. The gentle rocking of the horse between her thighs as she rode promised her an indication of her wishes all coming true, if only she could turn back and be with him again…
Pooka gave a snort and came to a complete stop. Blair also sensed danger and readied herself for whatever the fates had in store for her next. It was not good.
Four men came out from behind a rock and grabbed hold of Pooka’s reins, yanking them out of her hands.
The stallion was not used to such rough treatment; the horse reared up with indignation, sending Blair rolling to the ground. She was winded and shocked. Things had happened so fast, she was too numb to react other than to lie on the ground, blinking and panting.
“Lookee here, lads,” a menacing voice said, “it’s nae just the horse that’s a beauty. She doesnae look wealthy, but we can get a pretty price for her at some o’ the fancy houses down in Edinburgh.”
Blair was grasped by the arms and ankles roughly and then picked up and carried to where the rocks dipped and became less steep. A cave mouth gaped and swayed in her vision as her head lolled to one side, and she drifted in and out of consciousness. She was thrown carelessly to one side and felt hard stones hit her back. Again, Blair struggled to breathe; the tree canopy spun in front
of her eyes.
“Strip her,” the voice said. “She’s sure to have some money hidden in her petticoats. Besides, I want to sample the goods before giving her to the brothel abbess.”
“Let’s check her saddlebags first,” another harsh voice suggested.
“Aye, there’s a chest and a shawl all tied up that we need to look at before the sun goes behind the mountain.”
Blair gave a soft moan and tried to sit up.
“Look to the prize,” the man’s voice said, and she sensed someone approaching.
A hunched and weather-wrinkled man crept over to where Blair was groggily sitting up and shaking her head to try and clear it.
“Ye look like a sensible young girlie,” the man wheedled. “Dinnae make any trouble for yerself now, and we’ll go easy on ye.”
Blair gave a sharp sob, which made another man laugh and join his friend bending over her. He looked more weasel than man; his face was narrow, and he had hardly any teeth left in his mouth.
“Dinnae frighten the wench, Fergus,” the weasley man said. “They make for better bedmates when they give themselves over to the enterprise with a smile.” He knelt in front of Blair and chucked her under the chin.
“Ye dinnae ken what ye talk about, Watkins. It’s much more fun when they put up a spirited fight.”
The other two men over by the saddlebags said, “Hold yer tongues, the both o’ ye. Come here and have some of this food before we eat it all. The doxy can wait!”
“That is no doxy, Bellowes,” his mate replied. “That’s a prime piece of flesh and blood. Look at the age of it. I have one shilling that says she’s still intact.”
“Done!” the other man said, and then they moved off inside the cave mouth entrance to discuss whether it was best to sell their captive unmolested and get a better price for her or to have a bit of fun first.
Blair was horrified and had recovered enough by this time to make her escape. She tensed her muscles, ready to leap up and run, then jumped up and dashed out of the cave’s camp in front, but she had underestimated how weak her fall had made her. She felt a hand grip her waist from behind, and she was back on the ground.
All four men were standing over her now. The weasel-faced one stuck his hand into the pocket next to her waist and drew out her money pouch. He was about to tear it open when a man snarled, “Her first, count the money later!”
A voice from the forest surrounding the camp said impassively, “Me first, actually.”
The men spun around, grabbing daggers from the sheaths tied to their waists.
Slaine stepped out from the shadows. He had his rapier drawn and approached the men sideways so they had less of a target if there was an archer on duty on top of the rocks above the cave. There was no archer, and after giving one another sneaky, communicative, sideways glances, the four rogues decided to attack Slaine all at once. They ran toward him at full tilt, their arms raised, daggers drawn.
Blair shrieked and closed her eyes. She was sure she was about to see Slaine’s death happen right in front of her.
Slaine waited until the very last moment, until the bandits were nearly within striking distance with their knives, then he took a long step back. The men were taken all unawares and ran into one another. During the ensuing melee, Slaine passed his sword blade silently and lethally through one of the men. Then he stepped to the side and around to the place where the men had just launched themselves from.
The three survivors looked confused for a moment as they saw one of their brethren drop to the ground and not get up. The sword thrust had been too quick to see.
They reassembled, but Blair could see they had lost all of their confidence. Now the bandits were crafty and cautious, but still too cowardly to take Slaine on one by one.
They began to taunt him.
“He’s too large to move as quick as us. He wilnae see the knife coming. He’s slow and slow-witted.”
Slaine remained unperturbed, and Blair had to admire his restraint.
They walked cautiously toward Slaine again, but this time they spread out into a semicircle around him. Two bandits had their daggers held overhand, ready to slice and the other had his knife held underhand, so as to stab better.
Slaine kept his sword held in his two strong hands, moving its lethal tip from one man to the other and back again.
The men at the left and the right attacked at the same time. Slaine tossed his sword into his left hand, stabbed the man on the left, and then threw the sword into his right hand and did the same to the man on the right, even before they had come close enough to touch him. They staggered in surprise, not sure if they were even harmed yet, his blade was so sharp. Then they fell.
The last remaining man threw down his dagger and raised his hands in the air.
“I didnae touch a hair on her head, sir, I swear it on me mither’s life!”
Slaine dropped his sword to the ground as well. It was the moment for which the rogue had been waiting. He jumped toward Slaine with a howl, pulling a small knife out of a hiding place in his sleeve.
Slaine’s hand clamped around the man’s wrist like a vice. His fist was so large, his fingers went all the way around the man’s forearm as easily as if it were a baby’s.
Slaine squeezed slowly. Knowing his life hung in the balance, the bandit tried to wriggle out of Slaine’s grasp while keeping hold of the knife. Slaine tightened his grip harder. The man screamed in pain, and the sound of bones breaking like a snapping twig could be heard ringing off the cave rocks. The struggling man let go of the knife, went limp, and slid out of Slaine’s grip like a wilted piece of spinach, very green about the gills.
“Huh,” Slaine said. “Ye rascals are all the same. Same auld tricks ye use. The only thing that changes are the dogs doin’ them.”
10
Not Quite a Hero Yet
Blair had watched the encounter between Slaine and the bandits with mixed emotions.
She was sure the rogues would triumph right at the beginning of the fight and believed she would be left at the mercy of their crude desires after all. But after the first man fell, she found herself with more than a glimmer of hope for rescue within her breast; Blair was convinced she was watching a man who contained within him some form of superhuman strength.
Even taking his skill as a swordsman into account—and that was a prodigious talent all on its own—Slaine was still able to remind Blair of every hero her father had been able to conjure up in the stories he had told beside the parlor fireplace: Hercules, Lancelot, Beowulf. All were good men, but they still paled in comparison to the brute strength and powerful reality of what Slaine represented to Blair now.
He did not even stop to check the last bandit after the rascal had sunk to the ground and lain there like a puddle of dry rags. In three strides, Slaine was bending over Blair where she sat on the ground, hunkering down after throwing his sword to one side. He lifted her chin gently to peer into her face and stroked her hair back from her neck, checking to see if she was all right.
He had no recriminations to give or was even tempted to scold her. What had happened to her should never happen to any young girl, and Slaine had learned a valuable lesson from this—to never end an argument by walking away from it, especially with a woman as spirited and stubborn as Blair.
“Did they do anything, lass? Are ye alright?”
Blair knew she should be hysterical and swooning away from shock, but she was too impressed by what she had just seen to think about how other women would react.
“Ye...ye put an end to them as though they were gnats, Slaine,” Blair said admiringly, and took the hand he was offering her to stand up. “I’ve heard of such things in stories, but to see it for real is quite another matter.” Then remembering she was alright, bar a few bruises and scrapes, she reassured him, “I’m fine. I mean, they didnae lay a hand on me in the way ye’re worried about.”
“Ye shouldnae have seen it at all, Blair, and for that, I beg yer deepest pardon. P
lease forgive me for leaving ye, and when I ken there was evil afoot too. I’m glad ye’re nae harmed.”
At these contrite words, Blair felt her heart swell with a feeling she could not quite put her finger on. For the past two hours, she had known her behavior at the barricade had been unforgivably stupid and flying in the face of Slaine’s better judgment, but she had been too pigheaded to acknowledge it.
And here he was, apologizing to her as though it was his fault she had thrown a tantrum and done one of the most egregiously silly things in her life. Blair could not help herself from throwing her arms around Slaine and hugging him so hard she could feel his taut stomach muscles press against her.
“Dinnae beg me pardon, Slaine,” she said softly, her voice muffled as he wrapped his arms around her too. “Let’s pretend this never happened...let’s go back to how things were before.”
“Hm,” Slaine said, and dipped his head down to smell her hair. The red curls tickled his nose, and he could smell the heather she would sometimes thread through her ringlets. Whenever they passed a bush of purple flowers, Blair would reach down and pick a spray of the blooms. It was lovely.
Blair looked at him with a cheeky grin on her face. “However...seeing as we’re here, and the coast is clear...what do ye say to carryin’ on with this shortcut? It looks as though it loops around the cliffs and once we are free of these pesky woods, we might even make it to Cromachy a little early. What do ye say?”
Slaine gave a deep chuckle, and they broke free of their embrace naturally. “Aye, ye minx, let’s do that.”
He was relieved Blair had recovered from her ordeal so quickly. Little did Slaine realize it was because of his actions and presence that Blair had been able to bounce back from her abduction with no sign of trauma. Every now and again, as they walked their horses along the track, Blair would look back at Slaine striding behind her. She was not sure if it was because she enjoyed the comforting sight of him at her back or whether she could not believe a warrior hero had entered her life so suddenly and looked set to stay with her for a while.