Author: Ann Marie Scott
Category: Other
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They had both underestimated the length of time it would take to get back onto the road. Collecting Blair’s belongings, stopping to water the horses at a narrow stream and allowing them to graze had seen the sun dip hastily behind the treeline. They became aware of the dimming light when crickets and toads broke into harsh croaking and screeching from inside the forest.
“Losh sakes!” Blair cursed in frustration. “Are we nae to be free of this stupid wood?”
As she said the words, the path cleared in front of her, and she was able to pull Pooka free from the bushes. Blair thought she would never be as happy to see the back of a place as she was to be able to turn around and see the dense forest behind her. When Slaine and Maximus came out, she gave a cheer.
“See? We are back on the road, and the cliffs and barricade are no longer in sight. I’d say we should congratulate ourselves on a job well done!”
He smiled and looked around them for a place to camp. It was not yet twilight, but he did not want Blair to get lost looking for kindling again.
She did not wander far this time and seemed to take comfort in the fact she could keep him within eyesight at all times. They had refilled their waterskins at the stream, and Blair poured some of it into a pan, setting it to boil once Slaine had gotten the fire going.
He lay back with his head resting on Maximus’s saddle while Blair busied herself with the cooking. In such scant time they had been together, the two of them had already fallen into a routine they both found agreeable.
“‘Tis spuds an’ cured meat. I took the bandits’ food supplies. It’s nae like they would be needing them any time soon. Do ye think the one with the broken arm will come looking for us when he wakes up?” Blair wanted to chat while she waited for the potatoes to boil.
Slaine was captivated by Blair’s innocent conclusion about how men with broken arms behaved after their limb had been snapped by a man who had just taken out his friends with a sword.
“Nay, lass, he wilnae be comin’ after us.”
“Would ye like to hear me tell more tales about Cu Chulainn?” Blair was in a helpful mood and wanted to find any way she could to repay Slaine for his kind rescue.
“Hm, what about ye tell me why ye’re so determined to find this faither o’ yers? That’s a tale worth hearing.”
Blair sighed and closed her eyes. Her decision to set out alone to discover Angus’s whereabouts seemed like a thousand years ago now. There was something about being in the woods alone with Slaine that made her mind think it had always just been the two of them, like two characters in a fairy tale.
“Weeeeell, me brither, Adie, and wee sister, Maggie, arenae yet out o’ short coats and short petticoats. They need a faither to show them the world, ‘cause sure as eggs are eggs, they wilnae be learning about it from me mither.” As grateful as Blair was for the better than normal education she had received from her mother, Mistress Ainslee Carmichael’s feckless, spendthrift, slightly selfish nature drove Blair to distraction.
“And what about yerself? Do ye need yer faither still?” Slaine was curious about how Blair viewed her father after he had shown himself to be fully as selfish and silly as he guessed Blair’s mother to be.
Again, Blair paused for thought as she tested the potatoes' readiness with the tip of a knife, then she replied, “I’m nae sure if I’m ready to start me life without him yet.” Then, warming to her theme, she tried to elaborate her reasoning. “Y’see, Faither always said he could fill our minds with auld wives’ tales about monsters and sprites if he wanted to, but instead, he told us there werenae such things as wulvers, boggarts, kelpies, selkies, and the bean nighe. In fact, he named Pooka over there after the Puca, just to show us we didnae have to worry about offending mythical creatures.”
Slaine was enchanted by Blair’s fireside chats. He could sit and watch her animated little face talk about her life and her family all night. In some ways, despite her parents’ foibles, she was lucky to have them.
“Faither said we dinnae need auld wives’ tales about mythical creatures to warn us away from water. He told us we were clever enough children to ken to stay away for our own good without him scaring us silly. Instead, Faither would tell us stories about heroes.”
Her eyes met Slaine’s for a long moment. A myriad of thoughts were flashing through their minds after Blair finished speaking.
I’m no hero, heavens only kens, but if the definition of one is someone who would never let her come to harm, then I suppose the description is as good as any.
Blair would have been shocked to read Slaine’s self-deprecating thoughts.
He’s me idea of a true hero. I wonder how long it took him to learn how to fight like that? And his strength! Losh sakes, I never realized a man could be so powerful. It was as though he had a warrior’s warp all of his own.
The potatoes were boiled, and they ate with relish. The good housekeeper that she was, Blair had remembered to pack salt into her saddlebag before leaving home, and when she sprinkled it over the food, it added a savory kick to the taste. They were hungry; it seemed as though many meals had been skipped while they had been trapped under the trees.
When Blair came back from rinsing the plates and pots, Slaine offered to peel her an apple.
“Nay, I thank ye.” She smiled and took a bite out of the fruit as it was. “I love the skin, which reminds me, how is yer wound? I’m glad ye didnae get another one this time. How many men did ye fight at the Phoenix?”
Unaware of her verbal slip, Blair continued to munch on her apple.
If Slaine had noticed Blair’s shift from loving the taste of apple skin to thinking about his back, he did not mention it.
“Healing nicely, thank ye. And I didnae stop to count how many men there were at the tavern.” An idea came suddenly to mind. “What will ye do if we cannae find yer faither, lass? And if we do find him, what will ye do if he prefers to stay where he is?”
Blair had never taken kindly to contemplating failure. She flared up at Slaine’s questions, unable to see the genuine concern behind the words.
“Faither would never choose another course in life! He was lured into doing those dastards’ bidding because he is guileless and easily swayed. And as for nae finding him—well, I never! It’s our job to find him and I have always done a job until it’s finished, thank ye very much!”
Not put off by her outburst, Slaine insisted, “If he wanted only adventure, lass, dinnae ye think he wouldnae have accepted their money then?”
Blair stopped midway between opening her mouth to snap his head off and allowing the truth of his words to sink in. She compromised with an irate huff and sat back on the ground with her arms folded and an alarming frown on her face.
“Ye’re nae quite a hero yet, Mister Slaine Thamhais…” she muttered under her breath.
“What was that?” Slaine asked.
“Nothin’,” Blair said, and prepared for sleep.
11
Cold, Warm, Hot
Once more, Blair found it hard to shut off her thoughts and seek the healing refuge of sleep. The ground was hard and lumpy with roots and the air had turned cold, true to its Highland nature. She tossed from one side to the other, thinking about whether what Slaine said earlier had any merit.
She gave up and went to throw another log on the fire.
Slaine stirred. “Are ye cold, lass?”
“Aye. Me toes are freezin’ and I can hardly feel me nose anymore.”
Slaine turned to face the fire, saying, “I have two blankets. Would ye like one?”
Blair hunched her shoulders as she sat by the fire, alternately extending her hands toward the flames and rubbing them furiously together.
“Nay, thank ye, Slaine. Then we’d both be cold. I thought me traveling cloak and me quilt would be adequate protection for the journey, but…”
Slaine raised up one side of his blankets, and said, “Bring yer quilt with ye and come and lie underneath mine then. ‘Tis an auld trick I learn
ed up north. One person lying inside the other.”
Blair did not have to be asked twice. She scuttled over to where Slaine lay and edged herself next to him, making herself comfortable. Together, they watched the fire flames lick the log and rise higher. It gave out the occasional crackle, sending sparks flying into the night sky.
Slaine had his arms wrapped around her waist, and Blair pushed her hips back so they fit nicely inside the space provided by his protectively bent legs and arms.
“We’re as tightly knit together as two spoons in a silverware tray,” Blair giggled.
She relaxed and let her senses take her where they wanted. She could feel his breath, slow and steady, ruffling her hair. His arms were heavy enough to weigh her down and pull her toward him, but she did not feel trapped; in fact, quite the opposite. Blair felt free, as though her life had become buoyant with possibilities.
Slaine shifted his body now and then, and she would hear his leather coat creak as the material rubbed together. A warm glow had spread from her torso to her limbs, flooding her with an indescribable heat. The gentle flush seemed to pulse in parts of her body she had never had much time to pay attention to before. It seemed as though her breasts wanted to burst out from underneath their layers of clothing and present them to his hands for caressing. The tips blazed as though the flames from the fire had somehow managed to enter her chest.
Blair was still rational enough to know she was lying with Slaine the way a wife would lie with her husband in bed; she was brought up on a farm and understood the mechanics of copulation. But her comprehension of how a male animal covered a female animal had told her nothing about the hidden layers before the act occurred between a man and a woman.
From being so cold to feeling so heated, Blair could not hide from the fact it had nothing to do with Slaine’s blankets and everything to do with his arms and breath and closeness. It made her want to wriggle and press against him. No, better yet, she wanted to turn around and face him and touch his body with her hands.
So focused on her blossoming ardor, Blair had not felt Slaine himself awake. When he shifted away from her to lie on his back instead, removing his arms from around her waist and placing them behind himself to prop up his neck, she finally twisted around.
“Are ye hot...uncomfortable?” she asked as she snuggled into his side, wrapping one arm under his waist and placing the other on top of his hard stomach. Her head fitted perfectly between the muscles on his shoulder and chest.
“Hm,” was all he said as a reply.
Undaunted by his taciturn response, Blair lifted her head and slid further up so she faced him. For a moment, she took a lot of satisfaction from watching his resolutely closed eyelids, the thick, dark lashes flickering in an attempt not to open and return her gaze, the dark eyebrows drawn together but not scowling. At such close range, she was able to observe the curve of his cheekbones, manly mouth, and strong jawline.
She lifted up her hand and stroked his beard, tracing her fingers over his lips and pushing back the bristles from his mouth. Then she bent her head and kissed him.
Slaine responded in a way Blair had always dreamed a man would if she kissed him; he tossed her over so he could lay above her and crushed her in a passionate embrace. It was overwhelming and satisfying at the same time. She could feel his heart beating hard and strong against her own, his massive muscles rigid and firm wherever they pressed against her soft skin. Blair had not felt like swooning during her encounter with the bandits, but her head seemed to spin as Slaine kissed her deeply and intensely, moving his lips down to her neck and lingering on the sweeping bones under her collar.
His warm hands slid up under her skirts, feeling their way above her stockings, and stroked her inner thighs.
“Wait, wait,” Blair said huskily, and tried to rip her riding coat and skirt off so he could reach all the places where she wanted—needed—to feel his hot kisses.
It broke the spell.
Slaine groaned and twisted away to lie on his back again.
“Dinnae stop! I want this so badly. Please…” Blair panted.
If someone had told Blair a week ago that she would be begging a man she had only known a few days to rip off her clothes and take her roughly on the ground outside, she would have thought they were raving mad. Now, Blair believed she truly would go mad if Slaine stopped!
“Ye’re in me care, Blair, and it would be wrong of me to take advantage of that. Besides, ye’re payin’ me. There are so many reasons why we cannae continue on this path, believe me!” Slaine uttered the words as though they physically hurt him.
Blair had been too caught up in her emotions to see things clearly. However, his words were enough to make her pause and then muster all the discipline she had to damp down the fire that raged within her. She was not ashamed or afraid of what she had wanted him to do to her. In fact, when she looked at Slaine now, lying with his elbows draped over his eyes to block out the sight of her, she would think it strange if she had not wanted him to do it.
She stopped because the logic of what Slaine said made sense. It was his nobility of character that she had sensed from the moment they first met. He was an honorable man, a warrior of great prowess, and a good person. He was her hero. Knowing this did not make Blair desire him any less, but what he had said served its purpose in making her postpone it.
“I promise nae to do anything, Slaine,” Blair said with a practical tone in her voice. “Come and lie beside me again.”
He hesitated and then moved closer. Blair sat up and covered them both with the blankets. Before lying back down beside him, she lifted his arm up with a small grunt and laid herself down within its curve. She made sure not to snuggle in too close.
They lay together for a while, staring up at the stars and watching the smoke from the fire curl up toward the moon.
“I ride from town to town, lookin’ for trouble to sort out and people who need muscle for hire, Blair,” Slaine said eventually, unwilling to drift off to sleep without trying to warn her away from him. “I kill and maim for gold, lass—hardly someone whom a lovely lady such as yerself would want to stay with.”
“Hush,” was all she said in reply to his protests and patted his chest soothingly. Slaine, comforted by this good advice, kept his silence.
Owls hooted and swooped to catch furtive forest creatures. The horses stamped and snored into their nosebags. Blair slept peacefully in Slaine’s arms.
12
Croachy at Last
When Blair opened her eyes one at a time the next morning, the pitter-patter of raindrops was the first thing she heard.
Rubbing her face to wipe away the few drops that had already landed there, she saw Slaine had lighted a new fire under the tree canopy and made a pot of porridge. She could smell the oats. He was watching her and brought her a bowl as soon as she sat up and stretched.
“Good mornin’, lass,” he said, and handed her a small wooden spoon.
That was one of the things Blair loved about Slaine—he never dwelled on the past and left it where it belonged.
“Mornin’ yerself,” she replied with a yawn. “How long have ye been up?” She came to sit beside him under the thick tree leaves. The rain had not picked up yet, but from the look of the clouds hanging so grey and low in the skies, she knew it would not be long before the heavens opened.
“Nae much longer than yerself,” he said, cocking his head to one side and looking up at the clouds too.
Blair tried to imagine what someone’s life would be like, never having a home to run inside when it rained or snowed. A life where shelter meant a bed at an inn or on the ground under whatever refuge was available. Suddenly, the apprehension she could see in Slaine’s face as he looked at the sky seemed to take on a more complex meaning.
“How long have ye traveled thus, Slaine?” She took a spoonful of porridge and swallowed. “I mean, what do ye do when it snows in winter? Do ye have somewhere to stay?”
He was silent for a min
ute or two, and Blair held her breath in case she had offended him. Perhaps he had a wonderful cottage somewhere he kept specially for the colder months, and he would set out on a few adventures when spring came. But from what he had said last night, she would not bet on it.
“Sometimes I go south in winter, beyond these shores. Ye’d be amazed at how warm the weather becomes if yer ship goes far enough. I’ve been to places where the sun bakes the ground as hard as a hazelnut shell while the Highland mountains are still covered in ice.”
Blair loved the sound of that. It was similar to one of her father’s stories, only when Slaine said it, it was impressively true.
“Tell me about the lands to the south of our fair isle. Are they as barbarous as folks say? What about the lands to the west? Have ye been across the Atlantic?”
“Southern lands are warm but full o’ disease and slave traders,” Slaine mused. “I havenae visited west, but it’s nae for lack of offers. Settlers and merchants have fallen over themselves tryin’ to get me to look after them once they disembark and set foot in those endless forests. A sword is no match for a skilled bowman, and those same endless forests are inhabited with some of the most skilled bowmen in the world.”
Blair listened to his words, her eyes wide with admiration. She wished she were a man ready to jump on board any ship and have it take her to some exotic location.
She said as much out loud to Slaine.
“Ye must be alone in yer wish that ye were a man, Blair. Have ye no ardent swains waiting for ye back at the farm?” Slaine could not stop himself from asking. She was bewitchingly beautiful; there must be a beau somewhere.
Blair shrugged. “Faither is awful strict, Slaine. If he even caught a whiff of me up to some skuldudrie, he would tan me hide and then chase after the man with his pitchfork!”