“Most women would be satisfied tae wed a man with a guid reputation,” he said.
“That may be true, but I’m nae like most women.”
He appeared as if he wanted to say more, but instead, he said, “Well, ‘tis apparent that ye have already decided your fate.”
“I have,” she said, lifting her chin up a notch while pretending not to see the skepticism in his face. “Blane will give me all that I desire. I’m certain of it.”
Chapter 11
Thom’s eyes popped open as he became uncomfortably aware of the burn in his throat. The whisky he drank earlier was effective in dulling his senses and allowed him to sleep, however upon waking, his mouth felt like arid land.
He touched the gash on his arm, and found that it had almost completely healed. There was still a dull ache, but he had experienced much worse in the battlefield. They would resume their journey tomorrow, he decided.
It was night, but his sight adjusted to the darkness, and he could make out the glowing embers. Now that he was awake, he wouldn’t be able to easily fall back asleep again.
Still conscious of his thirst, he reached for the whisky flask that was by his side. Taking a long swig, he welcomed the flaming liquid that ran down his gullet. As he went to take another helping of the fire water, he heard a sound coming from where Mairead slept. He lowered the flask, and peered over at her direction. She was still asleep, although her distress was obvious. She thrashed her head as if she tried to escape something terrible. Putting the bottle aside, he crawled over to the lass.
“Nay, leave me alone,” she said, her lovely face twisted in terror. “Nay!” A small sob broke free and her body jerked to the side. She was either greatly affected by the skirmish at the village, or some other thing bothered her.
He leaned over and gently slapped her cheek. “Mairead, wake up,” he said. When she didn’t respond, he placed a hand on her shoulder and shook her. “Wake up, lass,” he said again.
Her eyes opened, and even in the darkness he could sense her fright.
“Dinnae be scared,” he murmured. “Ye are safe with me.”
When she recognized him, she took in a staggering breath. “Thom.” Her fingers dug into his forearm. “T — those men were going tae take me away…”
“Nay one will take ye anywhere,” he said, placing a reassuring hand on her back. “Ye were only dreaming.”
“Will ye hold me?” There was a glazed look in her eyes, as if she was still caught in her nightmare. She wrapped her arms around herself, and he noticed that she trembled.
“Aye.” A strange protective instinct welled up inside of him, and he folded her in his arms. As if somehow he became her anchor, she clutched on to him.
He clenched his jaw, recalling the encounter. One of the bastards had surprised Thom by pulling a second dagger from his boot. The attack was so quick that by the time he realized the weapon was in the assailant’s hand, his arm was already slashed. He recalled the sharp sting of the blade, but he continued to battle, and in the end, the attacker got what he deserved. Thom regretted that he hadn’t finished the job and eliminated the third one as well.
Looking around him, he spied the shadow of the oak tree. He scooped Mairead up and carried her over to the base of the old tree. As he sat down, he settled her onto his lap. Then grabbing the excess part of his kilt, he drew it over his shoulders and around her body, enveloping both of them in the thick plaid. She pressed herself against him, and he could feel her heart racing, while her breathing continued its jagged rhythm. Propping her head on his shoulder, he ran a hand up and down her slender back in an attempt to soothe her.
After a few minutes, her shivering subsided. She shifted in his arm and soon her breathing became deep and even. He should have put her back on the ground, and allowed her to rest, but for some reason he didn’t want to let her go. Holding her close felt too pleasant. Giving into his urge, he bent his head and brushed a soft kiss on her mouth. A small smile curved her lips but she didn’t awaken. He was at once relieved and disappointed. If she was conscious, she would have never asked him to hold her, nor would she have allowed him to kiss her. But as she lay against him, he could sense that she trusted him. He had never stayed long enough with a woman to experience anything like this, and he discovered that he enjoyed it.
But as he sat with Mairead, his innocent reflections turned into something more problematic. All at once he became acutely aware of the soft, lush curves crushed against him.
Take her back tae her bed, a voice inside him commanded. But he pushed the voice aside. Even if he took her to her sleeping area, he knew that he wouldn’t sleep. Not when all he wanted to do was to make love to her.
He leaned the back of his head on the tree trunk, willing his cock to settle down. When a servant at Tancraig Castle proposed to sleep with him, he should have taken up on her offer. Hell, it might have been a good idea to consider the serving wench in the tavern as well. Maybe then he wouldn’t have to contend with the raging erection that afflicted him now. But while he knew that his current urges were lustful, the feeling he had for Mairead wasn’t purely carnal. There was something else there, although he couldn’t quite place it. He sighed. He had all night to ponder what it was that plagued him.
***
Mairead experienced a wonderful dream. But just before dawn she woke up when something solid moved beneath her. The initial flush of contentment faded, and was replaced by the astonishing realization that everything in her fantasy had actually occurred. Sometime during the night Thom had adjusted her until she lay across his lap. She was cuddled against him, one hand resting on his hard chest while her head cradled near the crook of his shoulder. The familiarity of her actions should have made her blush, but it didn’t. Instead, the soft rise and fall of his chest comforted her, and she was strangely reluctant to extract herself from his embrace. Earlier in the night, she experienced great trouble falling asleep. And when sleep finally came, the horror and bloodshed she witnessed at the village haunted her. Never had she felt so helpless and vulnerable. She vaguely recalled waking up and accepting Thom’s strong support. It was as if her body surrendered to him, trusting that he would safeguard her against any harm. And then she slumbered with no lingering worries or distress.
But Thom’s actions last night puzzled and disturbed her. If she didn’t know any better, she was convinced that he actually cared for her. That notion brought an immediate frown to her lips. There was no reason for him to have tender feelings toward her. She meant nothing to him, and conversely he meant nothing to her. He was just an escort, and once they arrived at Bracken Ridge, she would pay him for his services. It was a business transaction; that was all. Yet even as she tried to convince herself otherwise, her mind kept straying back to him. The more she became acquainted with him, the more he intrigued her. Mairead’s frown deepened at the conflicting thoughts. Perhaps Thom intrigued her too much, and that in itself was dangerous. Suddenly she felt uncomfortably warm, and she needed to remove herself from his magnetic heat. Holding her breath, she reached down to carefully disentangle herself from his clasp. When his hand fell to the side, she carefully got up, and rearranged the plaid around him. The movement caused him to stir, although his sleep remained untroubled.
Backing away, she finally let go of the breath she held. When she was a foot away, she stood still, unable to resist examining the braw Highlander. Being in his close proximity brought peculiar, unsettling emotions to the surface. These emotions made her apprehensive about exploring them. But it didn’t make any sense. What was she afraid to discover? She shook her head. Unfortunately she had no ready answers.
Taking one last glance at Thom, she resolved to forget about the night before, and make herself useful. She went to check on the horses, and then continued to the stream to retrieve some cooking water. A few minutes later she returned from her chore, now acutely aware of the morning chill that seeped through her clothing. She shivered, regretting that she no longer had access t
o Thom’s welcoming heat. Drawing her arisaid over her shoulders, she huddled near the ground, trying to light the fire. When she finally lit the small fire, she lifted her palms to feel the growing warmth. After a bit, her hands were sufficiently warmed, and she went on to the next task of preparing the morning’s repast. She started to grab the bag of oats when her eyes fell to the spot that Makolm had claimed for his bed. She frowned slightly. When was the last time she saw the scholar? Upon waking this morning, she didn’t see him, although she noticed that his bed space appeared undisturbed. Perhaps something happened to him. But as soon as the worry started to form, she rejected the unsettling idea. Likely the scholar was on one of his early morning outings, and would be back soon.
She lifted her head when she heard a loud yawn emerge from the direction of the oak tree.
“Are ye making porridge?” Thom got up from the ground and joined her. She couldn’t quite understand it, but he seemed different this morning.
“Aye,” she said, avoiding his gaze as she carefully poured the grains into the boiling liquid. What else had happened last night? She couldn’t recollect everything and had fallen asleep since she felt so safe and cozy. But what if she had stayed awake? She was aware that when a man and a woman bedded together, there was not much sleep that occurred. Contemplating the possibilities made her flush, although her embarrassment wasn’t enough to prevent her from wanting to know more details about the intimate act.
“I could use a hot bowl of porridge,” Thom announced. He went to retrieve a couple of wooden bowls and spoons from his supplies, and sat down across from her.
“Why did ye become a runner for the MacRell?” she asked, choosing a safe topic that would distract her from her wild thoughts. She circled the spurtle in the pot. “Griogair mentioned that ye are a skilled combatant, although ye nay longer engage much in conflicts.”
He fell silent and appeared as if he wasn’t going to answer her question.
“I like being alone,” he said finally. “I learned how tae fight, but as I got aulder and more experienced, I developed a strong distaste for it.”
The thick wooden stick in her hand stilled as she looked up at Thom. “I had the impression that all men enjoyed fighting.”
“Nae this man.”
Mairead was surprised at hearing his confession. “What was it like tae go tae into battle?” she asked. “My brothers never told me much about it even though I ask. They say that war isnae for women.”
“Your brothers are right,” A dark shadow crossed over his face. “I was verra guid at wielding my claymore. Indeed my foster father was proud of my abilities. But then in my first battle my friend, who broke bread and slept in the same bunker as me, was terminated a few paces away. I couldn’t get tae him since I defended my own attack. When I finally made my way tae him ‘twas already too late. I killed the enemy who dealt the death blow, but I felt nay satisfaction in it. My friend was dead, and I couldnae bring him back. In the end, I was cognizant of the fact that nay matter how many clashes we won or lost, many of our kin were still mercilessly slaughtered. And those were losses that could never be replaced.”
Mairead felt a chill run through her heart as she listened to Thom’s recount. Now she saw why her brothers wanted to shield her from the brutality of warfare. But she asked, and Thom didn’t hold back his answers.
“And sae this is why ye dinnae want tae remember what ye saw in battle,” she finished for him. She took the pot off the fire and poured the thick paste into the bowls.
He looked at her, surprised that she was so astute. “Aye, I’ve tried tae forget about the horrors, although too many faces haunt me still.”
Mairead handed him a bowl of the oatmeal and started to eat. Dipping her spoon into her food, she was determined to quickly finish her meal. Her mind had wandered too many times to the night before, and it was necessary that she moved away from Thom. Setting the bowl aside, she started to get up.
“I dinnae see your friend?” Thom said, interrupting her movements.
“Makolm?” She slid her gaze over to the spot where the scholar normally slept. “I dinnae ken what happened tae him. I presumed that he went into the woods tae examine more foliage. But that was a while ago, and he isnae back yet…” Her eyes rose to the tree canopy, noting the soft morning light that broke through the bare branches. “Do ye think something happened tae him?”
“Perhaps he has decided tae leave us.” Thom took another spoon of the porridge and appeared unconcerned.
“I doubt that he would leave without informing us of his intentions. Besides, his ride is still tethered tae the tree.” She rubbed her arms, although she knew that the chill she felt wasn’t from the cold. “Where do ye think he has gone?”
“He likely went tae relieve himself in the woods.”
“If that were the case, he would have already come back,” she pointed out. “I think that he’s in trouble, Thom. Dinnae ye tell me that the forest is teeming with menacing folk? And what about the wild animals? If a boar attacked him…”
He set aside his porridge and sighed. “All right, we’ll go search for him. Where did ye see him last?”
She placed a finger to her chin, trying to remember. “I dinnae think I saw him since the evening,” she said in astonishment. After their meal, he told her that he wanted to do more exploring before nightfall. She had been so distracted by her own thoughts that she barely registered what he told her. When she finally sought her bed, she had assumed that the scholar had already returned to the camp.
“He went in that direction,” she said, pointing toward the river. “He told me that he was going tae inspect some greenery by the burn. However that was yesterday.”
Thom checked to ensure that the mounts were still secured. Then taking his claymore, he strapped it across his back. “Let’s go.”
As they walked toward the waterway, Mairead easily found Makolm’s trail. The path he made crossed in different directions as he went from one vegetation patch to another. In his eagerness to study the unique plants in the area, he had inadvertently strayed further and further away from their campsite.
She was crouched on the ground, trying to decipher the markings when Thom suddenly grabbed her arm and pulled her to the forest floor. She was about to protest when she observed that he pressed his index finger to his lips, silently warning her to be quiet. When she nodded, he released her, and parted the bushes. It was at that instant when she heard the distinctive sounds of men moving about.
“What do ye see?” she asked in a low voice.
“There are six men at the site,” he said, his tone grave. “Four of them I recognize from the tavern at Greenbrae village.”
“The tavern at Greenbrae village?” she repeated, shocked. “Then they must have stalked us. Do ye think they have Makolm?”
When he didn’t respond to her question, her sense of dread increased tenfold. “They have him dinnae they?”
He nodded. “Aye, I see him by the rock over there.”
She leaned closer and squinted past the parted bushes. The second she saw Makolm, her heart dropped like a stone. He lay on the ground, curled into a ball. His legs and feet were bound. His clothing was filthy, and there was dried blood on his face. Just then Makolm’s legs moved slightly, and she let out a slow breath of relief. At least he wasn’t dead.
“We have tae help him,” she said, clutching Thom’s sleeve.
“Ye arenae going tae do anything,” Thom pried his arm loose from her grip. “Ye will stay here while I free the scholar.”
“But what about your injury?” she asked, glancing pointedly at his arm. “As ye said, there are six men out there, and ye cannae fight them all at once.”
“I’ll be all right,” he said, his tone becoming impatient. “Ye just stay quiet while I get tae Makolm.”
Fully expecting that she would carry out his orders, he didn’t spare her another glance. Thom dropped to his hands and knees, and started to crawl toward the campsite. She chewed
on her lip, but then she decided that she couldn’t be idle. She had to help. Following his example, she crawled after him.
Thom was peering through the branches of an ash sapling. When she had almost reached him, she must have made a slight noise because he suddenly turned his head. When he saw her, he shook his head as if to tell her to go back. But she ignored his warning.
“I told ye tae stay where ye were,” he hissed furiously.
“Ye might require my help,” she said, coming up beside him. “And I —”
“Aiya, I knew I heard something,” a voice boomed from behind them. “Cobb! I found them!” he yelled at the top of his voice.
Thom let out an oath and sprang up from the ground.
Chapter 12
A shout rose from the camp, and then chaos broke loose as the intruder lunged forward. Thom already had his claymore unsheathed, and he lifted the weapon to ward off the blow. Five more men raced to the area. But the presence of additional opponents didn’t deter Thom.
“Get Makolm,” he yelled to Mairead as he slashed and blocked the oncoming attacks with his claymore.
Ignoring the fear that coursed through her body, Mairead jumped at the command. When she reached Makolm, she quickly pulled out her dagger, and sliced through the ropes at his wrists and feet.
“I’ve got him!” She grabbed the scholar by the hand and headed for cover.
At the sound of her voice, Thom started his retreat. Mairead wasn’t sure how many men Thom had eliminated or injured, but it didn’t matter. They had successfully rescued Makolm, and none of them were hurt. One thing was certain though. They needed to leave their campsite in case more reinforcements from the village came after them. Making haste, they gathered their things, and hurried from the site. They moved quickly out of the forest, and then advanced further and further into the thick woodlands. If anyone followed them, they wouldn’t be able to find their tracks. The dense forest contained a stand of hazel trunks that reached far into the horizon, and underneath those trees were a lush undergrowth of heather, blaeberry bushes and other shrubbery.
Highland Messenger (Scottish Strife Series Book 4) Page 9
