The Highlander

by Spear, Terry

“Poor? I would have killed the lad. I would think he deserved whatever was coming to him,” Niall growled.

  "Ja," Gunnolf said. "I would agree."

  “True, but actually he was quite smitten with me and since my horse was found to be suffering from some malady that morn—though I know not what, the stable hand had traded mine for one of the other page’s horses. Pierre, thinking it was one of the other boy's horses…”

  “I see. So he hadna meant to injure you. Just the same…” Niall ground his teeth.

  “Aye, just the same, the fall could have killed me or anyone else who might have taken the spill. He was whipped, though things like that normally did not happen to lords. Even so 'twas not a good practice to knock the lord’s daughter senseless for two days just to play a prank on someone else.”

  “I should say no'. Who was your father?” Niall asked.

  She chewed on her bottom lip. "Julian Frederick Ponsot."

  "Brother to Count Jacques Ponsot?"

  "Aye. Is there naught that you are afraid of?" she asked Niall.

  "A lass wielding a pitchfork, mayhap," Niall said very seriously. For a moment, in his weary and wounded state, he hadn't known who was poking him with the prongs of the fork that day. It could have been a hulking brute of a man.

  She shook her head. "You were not afraid of me."

  "Oh, aye, I was. Terrified. Did you no' see me trembling before you?"

  She chuckled. "You were yelling a battle war cry and cursing me in Gaelic—no doubt—and then swinging your great sword."

  "She used a pitchfork on you?" Gunnolf asked, sounding much intrigued and more than a little amused.

  "Aye, she was a mighty foe. And even after I knocked it from her grasp, the lass went for it again instead of dashing out of her cottage like a scared rabbit. I must say I dinna believe I have ever had such an opponent."

  "I tell you, she is the one for you, Niall."

  "What do you plan to do with me, after we arrive at Craigly Castle?" she asked, getting serious. She hadn't thought about what it would be like living at the castle. What would it be like to live in the Highlands, among a people she didn't know?

  If they learned who she was, would they be accepting?

  "We have no idea how long it will take for your uncle to reach Craigly Castle," Niall said.

  "But that could take weeks, could it not?" Anora said. "What would I do in the meantime? I do not take sitting idly well."

  "Ah, lass, there is always much work to be done, but I wouldna wish you to help shepherd a flock of sheep in the surrounding countryside. 'Twould be much safer for you to stay within the castle walls."

  "And Charlie?" she asked, still not liking how this was going. She loved being independent, relying on herself and no one else, not being told what to do. And she was used to raising sheep.

  "The dogs…"

  Before Niall could tell her they lived in the kennel, she said, "He stays with me. He would howl and bark and make such a ruckus if he was forced to stay elsewhere."

  "Mayhap no'. If he finds a she-dog to his liking," Niall said.

  Gunnolf chuckled. Anora shook her head.

  "The rain is letting up," Niall said, reluctant to leave the overhang, glad to get some much needed rest. He was feeling much better now, and he knew they could not tarry any longer now that the day was dawning at the very early morning hour.

  "Aye," Gunnolf said, rising.

  Niall rose to his feet, but this time when Anora stood, she looked like it was killing her to do so. "I wish I could make a hot bath for you, Anora, so that you could soothe your sore muscles."

  At the suggestion, she flushed beautifully.

  He smiled. But he worried about how she would take to living in the castle. And how his people would take to her. She was different—a lady of a highborn rank—yet all this time she'd been living like the common folk. Everyone in the clan worked hard, but he suspected even his aunt and his cousins would not wish the lady to work as his people did. And she was French, but more Lowland Scots in her ways. He wasn't certain how his people would view this.

  He hoped she would feel comfortable with living among them. Though he knew her uncle was en route, Niall already did not wish her to return to France or leave them behind for any other location.

  He'd never felt that kind of an attachment to a lass. Mayhap he was just getting so used to lying with her that it felt right. Like they were already husband and wife. Or mayhap it was because he loved her wit, her challenging him, and her sweet vulnerability.

  "Did you wish a wee bit of privacy, lass, before Gunnolf and I take our leave for a minute or two?" Niall asked.

  "Aye, I would," she said, suddenly looking uncomfortable with the notion, and turned to dig out something from her pack, and tried to hide it from him.

  A bit of cloth, he thought. "Do not stray far," Niall warned, not wishing her to be alone for a moment.

  "I will stay close," she said, and gave his hand a squeeze as if to reassure him she would be all right.

  Gunnolf grinned and shook his head.

  When the lass moved away from their nearly cave-like resting place, Gunnolf said in a low voice, "You are nearly as good as married to the lass, Niall."

  "She is a highborn lady. Think you she would want the likes of me? Or that her uncle would wish her married to me?"

  "She has been living as a shepherdess for all these many years. And you have but to see the way she treats you to know she cares for you."

  "Her uncle has no doubt other plans for the lass," Niall said, hating to admit it, wishing that there could be some other way for this to end.

  ***

  Glad the rain had stopped completely, the sky dark overhead, the pink and yellow of sunlight just beginning to appear during the early hours of dawn, Anora had not planned to move very far from their protected resting place. Just a quick jaunt into the piney woods nearby to relieve herself. She rushed through the golden-flowered whin to reach the woods. But once she had finished her business in the shelter of the trees, she thought she heard a puppy crying. There was no way that she could leave the woods until she saw to the matter.

  She made her way to an alder tree-lined burn and saw a black and white sheepdog—well, puppy, old enough to be weaned, but not old enough to be out here on its own—near the water's edge. Was a shieling nearby?

  She suspected her traveling companions would not be happy to see her return with a puppy, but she couldn't leave it here to fend for herself and most likely die. Wolves and wildcats would make short work of her. Anora prayed Niall and Gunnolf would not tell her she could not bring the puppy with her because they could leave her behind if that was the case, and she'd stay with the puppy and Charlie.

  Charlie had remained behind with Gunnolf when he brought out some cheese for her dog to eat. So much for being her ever loyal and faithful companion. Traitor. Yet, despite all Gunnolf's grousing last night about the dog curling up to sleep with him, when she woke this morning, she'd smiled to see his arm wrapped around Charlie's body, her dog's head planted on Gunnolf's neck. Mayhap, Gunnolf would champion her cause, and Niall would have to agree with it.

  But she could have used Charlie's help now in catching the young dog.

  She coaxed the small puppy as she walked slowly toward it, making momma sounds, cooing to her. The puppy watched her with big brown eyes, her long ears, not fringed yet like Charlie's, lifting a bit as she listened to Anora. And then the vixen darted into the underbrush further away from where they'd camped.

  "No." Anora said, her voice said in an annoyed but hushed way. She needed to reach her and return to camp before Niall stopped her and made her leave without the pup.

  Anora scrambled after the puppy, calling to her, coaxing her to come to her. Then something moved in the woods. Anora froze. The puppy suddenly ran to her, as if whatever was in the woods was scarier than Anora. She quickly scooped her up in her arms, speaking softly to the pup, reassuring her. She turned to head back through the trees an
d across the glen to the hill where the men waited for her when she heard the sound of horses moving among the trees.

  Niall and Gunnolf's?

  She quickly crouched, barely breathing, her heart pounding—praying the puppy would not whimper.

  The horses moved in her direction. Six riders all dressed in charcoal gray cloaks circled around her. The riders knew she was here already.

  She had nowhere to go but the icy river. She would have to leave the puppy behind, and it tore at her heart to do so. Before she could run for the river to lunge in, she was surrounded completely by the five men and a woman. The Frenchmen who had been inquiring in the village about where she lived.

  “We wish you no harm,” the lady said with a heavy French accent. "Do not call out or the men who stole you away from your croft will be dead."

  They were too far away. They wouldn't hear her cries if she called out anyway. Anora desperately wanted to dash into the burn, but she tightened her hold on the pup. She knew the man sitting astride his horse behind her would prevent her escape.

  The lady motioned to one of the men. He dismounted, then helped the woman down.

  “I am Andrea Rochelle, Anora, your soeur, baroness of Carcassonne.”

  “Sister?” Anora said, her voice arching with disbelief.

  "Oui," the woman said, then grasped Anora’s shoulders in a claw-like grip and leaned over and kissed one cheek, then the other in a perfunctory manner.

  “You cannot be. I have no sisters.” Anora glowered at the raven-haired woman who smiled back at her. “What do you wish of me?”

  “You are to come with us to Devon, my dear, where you will joindrez la famille.”

  “I will not, Lady Rochelle. I have other plans.”

  “We did not know until recently what had become of you. Your uncle sent me to bring you home once we verifie you were Asceline. You do not know how we all grieved when we feared we had lost you.”

  Had the woman? Anora couldn't tell. She looked over at one of the men and seeing his familiar black eyes, the one she had met in the village of Banbh, she stared at him for a moment, then faced the woman and shook her head. “I do not know you and will return to Braybrooke Castle now as I work for Laird Callahan, and he will be missing me soon.”

  She hoped the mention would make these strangers take heed that Laird Callahan and his force of men would be too much for them to handle.

  The sound of another horse's hooves clomping closer, and Matthew whistling his nonsensical tune as he approached, had Anora's heart skittering. What was he doing out here? He'd gone to Coventry, aye. But how could he have come across them so unexpectedly when she had been traveling in the opposite direction?

  One of the gray cloaked men drew his sword.

  Anora quickly said in a hushed voice, “He is only a friend of mine. The butcher's son. He means no one any harm.”

  The lady motioned for the knight to sheath his sword.

  Anora wanted to bolt for Matthew, to make him go back the way he had come, to ensure he did not get involved in this. She also was afraid he'd be shocked to see her here and ask too many questions. She feared these people would kill him.

  The black-eyed man swung down from his horse and seized her arm as if he believed she would dash off. “Vous nous accompagnerez, ma dame, comme le baroness le souhaite de vous,” the knight said to Anora.

  “I will go nowhere with you, but will return at once to Braybrooke as I have said.”

  Anora struggled to free herself from the man, but the baroness said, “I will have my knight kill your young friend, if you fight us, my dear.”

  Knights. French knights. Even Niall and Gunnolf couldn't fight these men. Not as many of them as there were. She didn't think. It wasn't the same as Niall fighting the Highlanders who had been divided, and busy with drinking or sleeping, and caught unawares.

  Anora contemplated alerting Matthew to go for help, but she feared he would never be able to outride them. She quit struggling and the knight released her arm. They waited quietly for Matthew to approach.

  When she saw him, her heart sank. He was riding his horse, armed with a sword and a dirk, but he was no match for any of these men. He glanced only briefly at the knights and the lady, then smiled broadly at Anora. "I am surprised to meet you here, Anora. Are these more of your relations?"

  She couldn't believe he'd act so unconcerned about it. As if she abandoned her cottage on a regular basis while traveling for miles, distancing herself from her home in the company of strangers. She glanced at the woman to see how she should respond. The woman bowed her head ever so slightly.

  "Aye," Anora said to Matthew, her throat dry with fear.

  "Where is your… other cousin?" Matthew asked, a brow arched.

  "He left. I told you he was leaving early the next morn," she quickly said, glad she had said so previously so that it did not sound like a lie.

  "True. May I have a moment to speak with you alone, Anora?” Matthew asked, not dismounting, and then she thought mayhap he knew very well she was in trouble.

  “I am leaving with my sister for… Devon,” Anora said.

  The baroness nodded in agreement.

  “Devon? What is this all about? I did not think you had a sister.”

  Play along, Matthew, she silently entreated. He was going to get himself killed. Her heart beat frantically and her hands grew clammy, the puppy at least quiet in her arms.

  “Aye, well, it turns out that I do have a sister and so you must tell Laird Callahan I will not be working for him as I had planned when you see him next, and I must cancel my engagement in Dover. He is marrying Lady Hayley.”

  “Who?”

  “Laird Callahan. He decided to marry her quickly, then they will have a wedding at Windsor when this trouble in the region is quite over.”

  “Nous devons aller, Anora,” the baroness said.

  “The lady says I must go now, Matthew. Tell Laird Callahan that I am sorry to have to run out on him in this way. Tell him,” Anora said, petting the puppy, worried they would not let her take her with her, “tell him I regret not having my pitchfork.”

  Matthew frowned at Anora. “You are not making sense, Anora.”

  She wanted to slap Matthew for not going along with the conversation. And for getting a girl with bairn, if he had done so, and had pretended still to want to marry Anora.

  “Mayhap you can see me in Devon, sometime, Matthew, though I am not sure I will see much of the place myself. Give your parents my love, as I must be on my way. My Danish relations will not be happy if I should delay our blessed reunion much longer.”

  Matthew shook his head. “If I should see Laird Callahan anytime soon.”

  “Laird Callahan must know,” Anora said. “He will worry that I have left without word. Please tell him, Matthew. Tell him I will have fish on my platter soon enough… that I will see the deep blue seas again.”

  Mayhap, Laird Callahan could send men to her rescue if he understood the message, and he did not mind getting involved.

  "You cannot take the dog with you," the knight said to Anora before he helped her onto the horse.

  "Nay, she is my puppy. I cannot leave her behind." She tightened her hold on the pup. Anora's body was rigid with tension.

  "You cannot travel with him," the knight with the black eyes said, his expression pleading with her to give the puppy up without causing any further trouble.

  Another knight wrenched the puppy from her arms, and she screamed. She hadn't meant to, afraid Matthew might react, but she couldn't help herself. The knight dropped the puppy on the ground, and pulled his sword as if he was going to kill her if Anora didn't do as the baroness demanded.

  "Nay! Do not kill her! I will go with you." Tears filling her eyes, Anora allowed a knight to lift her onto his horse, the whole time glowering at the other man. If he killed the pup, they would have to kill her.

  She glanced back at Matthew and hoped he would get the puppy, but mayhap he was afraid. She couldn'
t read his blank expression, but he didn't dismount.

  The brigand of a knight, who would have killed the puppy, sheathed his sword and mounted, and then they rode away from Matthew and the hills where Niall and Gunnolf were still. Anora looked back to see Matthew head toward Banbh, leaving the forlorn puppy behind. She whimpered and Anora fought to hold back the tears filling her eyes. Barely breathing, she watched as two of the French knights milled around behind them, observing Matthew. If they harmed him or the puppy, she would fight them with every ounce of strength she possessed.

  When Matthew faded from sight, the knights rejoined the escort. They had to have been only ensuring he left and didn't follow them. The puppy sat down, not about to follow the big horses.

  Anora took a deep breath, relieved Matthew would live another day. In a way, she was glad the puppy had not followed them, or she was certain the one knight would kill it.

  Yet, her heart ached for the puppy and she prayed if Niall came looking for her, he'd find the pup and take care of her. But she knew he wouldn't. His focus would be solely on freeing her from the French.

  Still, mayhap Charlie would find the puppy and take care of her, like he did her lambs.

  For now, she was just as grateful Niall and Gunnolf hadn't had to fight these men, either—not without a way to battle fewer at one time—like Niall had when he fought the men separately at her croft. Then again, what if Niall didn't find her, or come to her rescue? What if she never saw him again, or her beloved Charlie?

  And she couldn't stop thinking about the puppy.

  She ground her teeth, angry with these men and the baroness, wishing she had her pitchfork.

  She had every intention of freeing herself, first opportunity she had. And somehow, she had to go back for the puppy.

  Chapter 13

  Gunnolf had taken their horses to graze while Niall had gone to check on Anora, worried she was taking so long. But Niall hadn't wanted Gunnolf to see Anora if the lass had been bathing in the river. Niall suspected she might have been, which was why she had slipped the cloth out of her bag, attempting to hide it from him.