Highland Honor

by Dana D'Angelo

  Griogair reached down, cupping his hand to drink the cool substance. The water cascaded over some rocks, creating a mini waterfall. Some leaves had fallen from the branches above and swirled around in the free-flowing liquid. All around him was a burst of vibrant colors. He knew that soon these same dazzling colors would blaze through the Highlands in a few weeks time.

  He pulled an empty flask out of the sack that hung on the side of his horse. Crouching down, he then proceeded to fill the leather container. It was likely that his horse would need more water once they left the protected area.

  With his task done, he went to sit down on the ground. He spotted a piece of wood that was near his foot, and he picked it up to inspect it. Carving wood always helped him to relax, and after the long journey, he felt like resting. He started to take out his dagger and cut into the wood. Out of habit he also scanned his surroundings. His focus settled on the alder tree that was a little further down the narrow river. He frowned. In his distracted state he had somehow neglected to notice the small pile of clothing that draped over the moss covered tree. The tree grew about two feet from the brook, but its branches reached across and leaned over the rushing water.

  Getting up, he moved toward his horse, and gave him a reassuring pat on the nose. “Ye stay here,” he said before heading toward the tree.

  It was obvious that he wasn’t the only one who discovered this sanctuary. He studied the wet clothing, and absently placed his dagger back in its sheath. Glancing down, he noticed for the first time the tell-tale hoof prints buried in the mud. The trail went around the tree and disappeared into the bushes. Was this where Niall hid? Griogair had expected many more days of searching for his wayward foster brother, but if he could end his search now, he could then continue to be finished with this business. But that fanciful idea disappeared as soon as it emerged. The tracks on the ground were from one horse. As far as he knew, Niall rode with six other men.

  With curiosity propelling him forward, he cautiously followed the hoof prints. If someone was behind the shrubs, he didn’t want to startle him. Griogair was about to circle the tree when a twig snapped behind him. Before he could look back, he felt a sharp pain at the back of his head, and then his world turned black...

  Chapter 9

  The other women chose not to wander too far from the village, and did their laundering and bathing at the waterway that ran behind Sundholm Tower. Sileas, on the other hand, preferred to travel further downstream to complete her chores, and to find her moment of solitude. On an earlier hunting expedition, she had discovered a refuge where she could temporarily forget her worries. As much as possible, she escaped to her shelter. The time she spent alone in her sanctuary was enough to refuel her, and allow her to continue another day.

  After she laundered the clothes, she planned to take a swim in the refreshing water. There were a few garments that needed to be washed before she could even consider that indulgence. Hanging the newly washed fabric on a tree branch, she focused on finishing up with the last pieces of dirty clothing. But just then she heard coughing in the distance, and any hope of bathing was gone. With barely enough time to lose, she dove behind some bushes.

  It was then that she noticed that her refuge seemed to turn strangely quiet. The birds had stopped their twittering, and the sound of free-flowing water seemed excessively loud. Out of curiosity, she raised her head to peek over the bushes, and saw a lone man and his horse coming to stop near the water’s edge. Her skin prickled. It was as if every living thing tuned into the man and silently observed his actions. From what she could gather, he was from the Highlands. No men in these parts wore the great kilts that the Highlanders were so fond of.

  Squinting, she could see that even from this distance he appeared dominant and strong. The sheer size of the brute made the average male seem lacking somehow. With one fell blow, a lesser opponent would likely be dispatched. A female had no chance with him. She sunk back into the shrubs, glad that the bushes provided coverage. But she couldn’t feel safe. There were too many unanswered questions whirling in her mind. There was no reason for a Highland warrior to wander into Ellison territory. And why was he traveling alone? Even the most fearsome reivers roamed through the Debatable Lands in groups.

  The stranger moved to the side of the stream to drink the water. His movements seemed light despite his size. After he was finished, he took a seat by the brook, and he waited for his steed to finish drinking. Her only recourse was to sit tight until they finished their business and left. But then a flash of color caught her peripheral vision. Apprehension seized her brain when she realized that she had left the pile of wet clothing hanging on the tree branch. With the barbarian so near, it was foolhardy to jump up and attempt to hide the clothes. She hunched her shoulders, and prayed that he would leave the area without noticing the items on the tree branch.

  But it wasn’t meant to be.

  Even while resting, the newcomer was alert and scoured the area around him. When he noticed the clothing, he tilted his head in puzzlement, and he got up and moved toward the tree.

  Turn back, she yelled inside her head, hoping that he would somehow receive the telepathic message and forget what he saw. But it was a futile wish since he headed straight toward the damp clothing. What should she do? A cold sweat ran down her back. If he came any closer, he would discover her hiding place.

  With his long strides, the rugged male was almost upon her. As near panic set in, she searched the ground and found a good-sized rock. She started to pick it up with both hands when something made her pause. There was something familiar about his gait. She gasped when she realized that she had met this braw stranger before. In fact it was the horse-trader that bought the brown hares and dried yarrow from her. When their business concluded, she believed that she would never see him again. Yet here he was in the flesh.

  The Highlander came closer but he then seemed to lose interest in the wet clothes when something else caught his eye. Bending down, he examined the ground. He was going to find her horse, she realized. As he started to follow the trail around the tree, Sileas made her move and rushed out of her hiding spot. She sucked in a huge breath, and using all her might, she lifted the rock over her head and bashed it down at the base of his skull.

  He never had a chance to defend himself. Collapsing to the ground, his body dropped heavily to the turf like a large sack of oats. If the giant woke up, she would be in serious trouble, since there was no way she could defend herself against his brutal strength. The only thing that would put them on equal footing was if he was tied up. Quickly untying the belt that held her dirk in place, she used the leather strip to bind his hands behind his back. She didn’t want to dispatch him, but at the same time she didn’t want him to awaken and overcome her with his might.

  “Ye willnae be getting out of that soon.” She brushed the dirt from her hands while she observed her handiwork. But her satisfaction didn’t last long as she considered his unexpected arrival. Since the day she met the Highlander, strange things had occurred. Was he perhaps the reason why they experienced so much unrest lately? The disturbances they had weren’t exactly raids. She knew firsthand what raids entailed. During those events, the reivers stole everything of value, and created as much chaos as possible. Nay, the difficulties they experienced of late were annoyances that were orchestrated to infuriate her and her people. She had no idea why her clan was targeted. In the most recent episode, the rascals had ridden through a flock of sheep that fed in the hills and scattered them in all directions. One of the sheep herding lads managed to run into the village for help. It was infuriating that this happened not once but a dozen times. But then each time the villains went a little further. In the last incident, they took the few cattle that the clan possessed, and chased them out onto the open field. With the clansmen gone, it was difficult and exhausting to rein in all the livestock. However they had no choice. If they let even one farm animal slip, they risked having the neighboring clan take the stray beast and
acquire it for their own. Clan Ellison had only a few livestock as it was, and they couldn’t afford to lose any of them. After all, their survival during the long winter months depended upon their livestock.

  As Sileas recalled the incidents, a surge of anger arose and set her teeth on edge. It was too much of a coincidence that this stranger appeared out of nowhere. Perhaps he had temporarily left his party, and was set to inflict additional havoc on her people.

  “Well, I willnae let ye cause any more mischief,” she said, placing her hands to her hips and jutting out her chin in defiance.

  If the Highlander was a part of the terrorizing gang, then he had a lot to answer for. She glared down at the unconscious giant. It was a time like this that she wished that she was a man. But of course that was impossible. Luckily she had contained his robust strength. Once he woke up, she would force a confession from him, and somehow she would get him to stop plaguing her clan.

  Hunching down, she stared intently at her powerful opponent, waiting for him to wake up. Finally, after what felt like long years, a groan followed by a curse emerged from the prone figure.

  “Where the hell am I?”

  A shiver ran down her spine as she heard his deep, smoky voice. Sure she had heard it before in the town market, but in the quiet shelter, it sounded different. It was melodic, but at the same time it was richly masculine like fine whisky. And each rumble shook her to the core. If he was wicked and intent on sabotaging her people, why would he affect her like this? And was it right to assume that he was one of the people responsible for tormenting her clan? For one, she had no proof of his involvement, and for two, it was obvious that he told the truth about his horse’s condition. She was well aware of its illness, and had heard it sneeze and cough only a few minutes before. Was it possible that she misjudged this stranger? She felt a twinge of doubt, but she tried to shake it off by reasoning with herself. Any sane lass confronted with a similar situation would have acted in a similar fashion, she decided.

  The massive horse-trader pulled at his restraints. Once again, she was relieved that she had thought to truss him up. At the moment he was one enormous heap on the ground and was harmless to her. His kilt rode up his legs, exposing large, powerfully muscled thighs. She knew that he was a horse dealer, but judging by his intimidating presence, he could very well be one of the queen’s seasoned knights. In either case, he didn’t belong here.

  “Ye are in Ellison country,” she said, her tone haughty and cold.

  He jerked at his restraints again and grunted. “Why am I tied up,” he asked. Testing the rope, he tried to wrench his wrists apart, trying to free himself using pure strength. But the belt held in place.

  “Who are ye?” she demanded.

  The Highlander ceased his movements and craned his neck to regard her, but she placed a foot between his shoulder blades and pushed him firmly back to the ground. “Dinnae move!”

  “This is ridiculous,” he growled. Ignoring her booted foot, he thrust his body back, displacing her foot. He leaned his head back and when he saw her, he said, “’Tis ye! Ye are the lass that sold me yarrow at the market.” His eyes narrowed. “What’s the meaning of this?”

  “I’ll be the one asking questions here,” she snapped. “I asked ye — who are ye, and why are ye here?”

  “My name is Griogair MacGregon.” Annoyance crept into his voice. “My horse needed water —”

  “But why did ye come here?” she cut in.

  “Because a brook usually contains water,” he said, his tone sarcastic.

  “The river is long-running,” she shook her head impatiently, ignoring his irritation. “Why did ye come tae this particular spot?” Her face tightened with suspicion as she peered down at him.

  “Aiya, ye really are distrustful,” he said, his masculine lips turning down with reproach.

  His observation provoked an angry heat to shoot to her cheeks. “Dinnae try tae avoid the question,” she spat. “I would be an idiot tae trust a fiend who sneaks around spying on unsuspecting lassies.”

  “I wasnae spying on anyone,” he said, exasperation in his voice. “If ye must ken, I gave my steed dried yarrow, and it made the beastie verra thirsty. Since I ran out of water, I brought him down here sae he can rest and drink. I wouldnae have stayed long in this place except someone knocked me out. The next thing I know, I’m tied up and explaining myself tae a madwoman.”

  She pursed her lips as a coil of uncertainty circled within her. Perhaps he wasn’t lying, and she was holding the poor traveler against his will.

  He dropped his head to the ground and twisted it back to glare at her, but the sudden movement caused him to abruptly suck in a painful breath. “What did ye hit me with?” he asked.

  “With this,” she said, showing him the rock that was still in her hands. She went to the edge of the streamlet and dropped it into the water. The rock made a splash as it sunk to the bottom. She wrapped her cloak around herself and straightened her back. When she spun around, she placed her hands on her hips. “Perhaps I hit ye a wee hard, but a lass cannae be too careful around here.” Especially when reivers roamed freely across the land. She decided that he didn’t need to know that she had every intention of disabling him. When she had struck him at the base of his skull, she made certain that she swung the rock down as hard as she could.

  “What are ye called?” he asked.

  “Sileas...” she started to say, but then the rest of her name died in her throat. Time suspended as she watched a cloud of smoke rise high above the tree tops. Her brows drew together while her mind raced to comprehend the dark mass. Meanwhile a feeling of foreboding crawled over her flesh as she realized that the smoke came from the direction of Sundholm Tower, her home. That realization lit a spark in her brain, releasing her from her trance. Letting out an unladylike curse, she started to run.

  Chapter 10

  “Wait, I can help,” Griogair yelled as she started to race to the nag that was tethered behind the shrubbery. “Cut off the binds.” He threw his weight to the side, and with effort, he pushed himself to a standing position.

  The lass stopped abruptly, observing the plume of smoke, which seemed to get darker and heavier by the second. Still, indecision reflected on her comely face.

  He held his breath. If she didn’t free him, there was a chance that she wouldn’t come back to release him. That knot that she tied was secure, and he would have a hell of a time loosening himself from the binds. Of all things, he disliked being in a vulnerable state. While he was good with his weapons and fists, his tied hands would be a hindrance, especially if the robbers stumbled upon him again.

  “The blaze looks substantial,” he said, making his tone sound calm and reasonable. “Ye cannae put out it out on your own. Ye will need help.”

  The tension was evident on her slim frame. Then as if she finally came to a decision, she growled in helpless frustration and stomped over to him. Withdrawing her dagger, she cut the ties from his wrists.

  “Follow me.” She ran over to her nag and quickly mounted.

  Free at last, he jumped on his own horse. With all the inconveniences that she caused him, he had no intention of helping her. His first instinct was to wheel his steed around in the opposite direction, and get out of there as fast as possible. But then a realization struck him, halting his movements. For a while now, he was aware that he had entered Ellison territory. When he first met Sileas at the market, he didn’t know her clan affiliation, but finding her here confirmed her kinship. In addition, he noticed a certain air of fire and authority about her. It was easy enough to discern that she held a position of esteem in the clan. Before his arrival in the Lowlands, he had a rough plan to enter the Ellison settlement and start his investigation. Of course as a newcomer to the village, he would be met with suspicion. He figured that once he got to the community he would then figure out his next move. But now the perfect solution to his problem presented itself. If he went into the village with someone the villagers knew and
trusted, his presence there wouldn’t be questioned. Making a quick decision, he spurred his mount around and raced after her.

  Up ahead, he could see the rectangular peel tower that sat on top of a large mound. A barmkin wall partly surrounded the tower. From the quick glimpse he could see that the fortress was well built, but he didn’t have time to study the structure in greater detail since smoke and chaos obscured most of it.

  A handful of thatched houses lined the perimeter of the protective wall, although four of those residences had burning rooftops. Women and bairns shouted, dogs barked, cattle and horses screamed. Through all the confusion, he noted vaguely a couple of old men in the vicinity. Aside from that, there were no able-bodied clansmen in sight.

  Griogair made his way quickly to where Sileas and a cluster of fearful women and bairns huddled.

  “We tried tae stop her,” a matron said, pulling a frightened child close to her side.

  “Aye, we did. But she wouldnae listen tae us and ran back inside,” another woman added, pointing to one of the burning buildings. She drew her cloak over her head and pulled it tightly around her white face.

  “Is she still in there?” Sileas asked, alarmed.

  He glanced over at the burning thatch, a heavy cloud of smoke rising to the sky. It wouldn’t be much longer before the inferno burned through the roof covering.

  “She’s going tae die in there,” the matron wailed.

  The distraught sound of the woman’s voice jogged a memory that he wished he could forget. Not that long ago, Blane Cunningtoun’s family had died in a house fire that was deliberately set by the hated English. Unfortunately the past couldn’t be changed. He couldn’t go back in time and save the family. But what he could do was prevent more innocent lives from suffering.

  Shaking himself free from the horrific memory, he went closer to the burning home until he could feel the heat of the flames. This fire was also deliberately set, and if he didn’t act soon, the woman trapped inside would die. And while he didn’t want to believe it, he had a sinking suspicion that his foster brother was behind the destruction. Whether it was from grief, pain or both, Niall was lashing out at everyone who he thought was connected to his brother’s death. The next time his foster brother struck, he would likely set the entire village aflame.