Highlander's Sweet Promises

by Tarah Scott

  The rain continued through the morning while Taran led them off the path to a cave high up in a rocky hill. “We’ll have to tether the horses here and climb the rest of the way.”

  Valeria dismounted with the others and handed her reins to Seumas, who hobbled the beasts together. Stag ran ahead of Taran. First to climb, he was followed by Manas, Valeria and Pia. Greum and Fionn brought up the rear to assist the ladies.

  Stag reached the top and growled, backing into Taran. Valeria couldn’t mistake the hissing sound of his sword being pulled from its scabbard. Stag barked and snarled with escalating angst. Taran jumped beside the dog and landed in a crouch.

  Valeria strained to see beyond him, but couldn’t make out the entrance to the cave through his blue surcoat and the driving rain. She pulled the dirk from her belt—the same one she’d used to defend herself against Runan. Manas palmed the small knife she’d given him for this journey.

  Greum climbed up to her. “Back down so Fionn and I can move closer.”

  Valeria beckoned to Manas.

  Low growls erupted from the cave—but they weren’t from Stag. Greum hopped up in front of her while she receded down the rock. Her hands latched onto Manas and she scooted her body to one side to allow Fionn to pass.

  Howls echoed from the depths of the cave. Wolves. Stag’s snarling bark became more intense as the wolves launched their attack. The deerhound yelped.

  “Stag!” Valeria shouted.

  Inhuman squeals of pain resounded when the pack met with the blades of her guardians. Valeria backed up to glimpse the fight. Taran roared, recoiling from a vicious bite to his arm. Clenching her dirk, Valeria raced to the rock and started to climb. Seumas tugged on her waist. “No, lass. They’ll finish them. Wolves are no match for the iron of a Pictish sword.”

  Pia hugged her on one side and Valeria clung to Manas on the other. Helpless, they watched, while the wind and rain showered their faces. Yelps of pain echoed in concert with the thunder. The noise blared, racking her ears. All at once, the tumult stopped. Raindrops splashing against the rocks and dripping from the trees was the only sound.

  Valeria’s questioning gaze shot to Seumas. Pia and Manas loosened their grasps and everyone leaned forward.

  “’Tis clear,” Taran’s voice boomed

  Cautiously, they ascended the stony crag. Peering over the ledge, Valeria clapped a hand over her mouth and forced back her urge to heave. A gruesome sight, a half-dozen bloody wolf carcasses were scattered across the cave entrance. But when she caught sight of Stag lying on his side, blood oozing from a shoulder wound, she ran to him. She dropped to her knees and shoved her hand over the wound, pressing hard to staunch the bleeding.

  Taran crouched beside her. “I’ll carry him inside. Pia, bring the medicine bundle.”

  “I’ve got it right here. Manas, go fetch the pot and a waterskin.” Pia looked from Seumas to Fionn. “Can you light a fire?”

  “If I can find some dry wood, ye’ll have yer flame,” Seumas said.

  The recesses of the cave stank of wet dog, but at least they were out of the unrelenting rain. Pia prepared the water, adding raspberry leaves while Valeria held a strip of woolen cloth against Stag’s wound. Taran hovered over her, his brow furrowed.

  Valeria watched a drop of blood drip from his arm. “You’ve been bitten.”

  He waved his hand. “’Tis nothing.”

  “A wolf’s bite can fester. You’d best have Pia look at it,” Valeria spoke loud enough for Pia to hear.

  In two steps, the matron studied Taran’s arm. “She’s right, we’ll need to cleanse and wrap it.” Pia looked at the others. “Was anyone else bitten?” Fortunately no one had, and Pia went to work on both the wounded.

  The group shivered from the cold, huddled by a paltry fire. Valeria cradled Stag’s head in her lap, petting him gently, careful to avoid his injury. The dog moaned, enjoying the attention, the pain forgotten.

  Taran sat on her opposite side and leaned in. “I wish I were Staggie Boy with me head in yer lap.”

  “Too right, the dog’s got it better than any of us poor sops,” Greum agreed.

  Taran held his hands out to the fire. “We should bring in some more wood and start it drying.” He looked across the cold and miserable faces. “Manas?”

  The boy looked up with a grimace, his teeth chattering.

  Seumas stood. “I’ll go.”

  “I’ll go with you. I’m soaked anyway,” Pia said, hopping up like a girl in her prime.

  Valeria chuckled, watching them dash off into the rain. “I do believe Pia has taken a fancy to that man.”

  “Seumas?” Taran waggled his eyebrows. “He could use a wee bit of excitement in his life.”

  Greum picked up a stone and rubbed it between his fingers. “Aye. ’Tis been a long time since I saw him so chipper. He usually stomps around with a scowl, grumbling like Taran with a hair up his arse.”

  Valeria caught Taran’s frown and quickly stifled her laugh. “What does Seumas grumble about?”

  “The weather, mainly.” Greum chuckled. “Looks like that’s no’ bothering him today, though.”

  Taran slid his good arm across her shoulders and inched closer. So accustomed to Pia’s discerning eye, Valeria tensed, though her stomach flipped upside down.

  “I’ll share a bit of me warmth with ye.” He grinned down at her. “Ye’re shivering like a willow in a windstorm.”

  Valeria looked at the others and relaxed. No one seemed to mind or gasp like Pia would, telling her it wasn’t proper. She nestled into Taran’s welcoming heat, the stress of the day lifting from her shoulders like the smoke from the fire. “How is your arm?”

  “’Twas fine until Pia dumped mead on it. Now it’s throbbing a bit.”

  “Good. I know it stings, but you should pour some more on it later to keep out infection.”

  Taran nuzzled into her hair and inhaled. “Ye’re so fine, Valeria.”

  His lilting voice was soft, and though she barely heard the words, they made her heart flutter. Her lids grew heavy from lack of sleep. She curled into him and rested her head against his chest. His strong, heavy heartbeat mesmerized her. Closing her eyes, she could imagine no other place she would rather be.

  Valeria stirred when Pia and Seumas dropped armfuls of wood beside the fire. Pia pursed her lips, but said nothing. Valeria closed her eyes again, secure in the arms of her Pictish warrior, with his faithful dog still sleeping in her lap.

  ***

  The sun made an appearance the following morning and the group mounted their horses after a breakfast of wolf meat. Taran worried when Valeria turned her nose up and refused to taste the “vile” beasts. But once everyone raved about Pia’s cooking and said it tasted just like chicken, Valeria gave in and clipped a tiny piece with her teeth. He breathed a sigh of relief. Without complaint, she had accepted Pict customs in so many ways. She’d even included Atar when speaking to Manas. But still, she was Roman at her core. Could a woman brought up in the protected world of Roman opulence ever be content in the rugged Pict world?

  Stag had no trouble gulping down his portion. The mutt had spent the morning running around licking people awake as if his shoulder had completely healed. Taran’s arm throbbed a bit less. It would heal. He’d suffered far worse, but didn’t mind Valeria’s ministrations in the slightest. He’d enjoyed catching whiffs of her sweet-smelling hair when she inspected the wound.

  Once they mounted, the horses slogged forward. The sucking sound of mud popped with each step. By late morning, the forest opened upon a lea, climbing to rolling hills. The footing became easier.

  Valeria reined her mare at the top of a hill where they could see for miles. “Let’s take our midday meal here. ’Tis a beautiful view.”

  Taran rode in a circle looking for movement in all directions, not pleased to stop in such an exposed spot. However, they’d not seen another soul since they’d left Dunpelder. It was safe enough to dismount for a meal.

  Pia an
d Seumas took charge of the food preparation and Taran led Valeria aside. “Show me the dirk ye pulled out yesterday.”

  She reached back and held up the bone-handled blade, which was nearly two hands long.

  He took it and held it up. “That’s a fine weapon, where did ye find it?”

  “I pulled it out of a leg of pork the night the Attacotti ransacked Dunpelder. ’Tis the same one Manas used to run through Runan’s heart.”

  He ran his thumb across the blade. “’Tis deadly sharp, but do ye know how to use it?”

  “Of course I do.”

  Taran stepped back and held it out. “Then show me.”

  “What?” She took it. “Do you want me to run at you with the knife and plunge it into your heart?”

  “Aye. Give it a try, I promise not to hurt ye.”

  “Hurt me?” Her eyelashes fluttered. “I’m the one holding the dirk.”

  Taran beckoned her with his fingers. “Come on now, lass. Show me yer skill.”

  Valeria narrowed her eyes, and ran toward him, holding the weapon above her head. Taran swallowed his chuckle as he stepped aside while she stumbled forward.

  She reeled around with fire in her eyes. “You did that on purpose just to flaunt your brute masculinity.”

  Taran spread his palms. “No. I figured if ye were carrying a dirk, ye’d best know how to use it, and if ye do not, I’ll teach ye.”

  Valeria stammered and glanced at the others. “Very well. If you want to show me how to brandish this knife, then I think Greum ought to start working with Manas on his swordsmanship skills.”

  Greum patted Manas on the shoulder. “Good idea, let’s go find a pair a sticks to start with.” He turned to Fionn. “Come on, you too. Ye cannot rely on yer slingshot all the time.”

  “But I know how to wield a sword,” Fionn complained.

  “Not well enough. Ye’d sooner hit a man in the head with a stone then run him through.” Greum yanked Fionn’s arm and dragged him along toward a sole, spindly ash.

  Taran faced Valeria. “Now, ye’ll be defending yerself, so most likely, ye’ll be standing your ground like this.” He crouched with his feet wide, showing her how to solidly center her weight for optimum balance. “When someone’s got an inkling to kill ye, ’tis no time to worry about looking proper.”

  She tried to imitate his stance but her gown constricted her knees. “I’m afraid this is all the slits in my tunic will allow.”

  “Bleating impractical women’s clothes.” Taran marched over and tore the slit up the side seam several inches higher, exposing her knee.

  Valeria jumped back. “Oh for heaven’s sake, this is the only dress I have, and now you’ve ruined it.”

  “Och, and a wee slit might just save yer life. Besides, it’ll make it easier for you to ride. Now crouch down like I showed ye.”

  Once she set her mind to it, Valeria proved a worthy student, quick and strong for her stature. He used his own body to show her the most vulnerable points where a knife can do the greatest harm. “If he’s wearing a breast plate, ye won’t be able to go for the heart, so yer best to aim for the throat and run yer blade across his neck. Without armor there are many more possibilities, but ye’ve got to watch out for his bones. A knife can glance off a rib and only cause a flesh wound if ye do not ken what ye’re doing.”

  “I never realized what a science killing someone actually is.”

  “I hope ye never need to defend yerself, but ye’re much more likely to live if ye ken how.” He continued to work with her, but deep down Taran feared she’d be killed if she met with a skilled attacker. He’d need to show her to fight dirty. “There’s one trick women have in their arsenal that will take down any man, no matter his size.”

  Valeria nodded eagerly. “Good. Show me.”

  He stammered a bit, not quite sure if he wanted to be the one to tell her. But then, if he didn’t and she had a chance to break away…Och, she should know. “If a man has ahold of ye, slam yer knee into his ballocks as hard as ye can.”

  Valeria blinked consecutively, turning a shade of scarlet. “Ah. You’re serious?”

  “It’ll make his eyes tear up and bend him in half with unimaginable pain.” He knit his brows. “Did ye not see this among little boys when ye were but a lass?”

  “No.” She turned her back and folded her arms.

  Now he’d done it—ruined their fun. “Did I say something wrong? I’m only trying to help ye.”

  She shook her head and stared at the grass. “There were no boys when I was a girl. There have been no boys, ever. I was cloistered in my father’s estate, given the best tutors. The only men I’ve known have been soldiers, priests and politicians, and they have not been many, given Pia’s watchful eye.”

  Taran gaped at her back. Mayhap I should have said groin rather than ballocks. No. I doubt that would have mattered.

  Valeria whipped around. “Do you consider me ignorant?”

  “Now why would I think that? Ye’ve got a great many talents, most of which I ken nothing about. I just happen to be a bit better versed in self-defense, which stands to reason since I’m a Pict warrior, trained to fight all me life.”

  She walked toward him, eyeing him with her hands on her hips. “So just how do I manage this knee maneuver you spoke of?”

  Taran cleared his throat. “Well, ’tis a milk-livered, dirty thing to do but if ye’ve no other choice, ’tis better than having yer throat cut.” He placed his hands on her shoulders and demonstrated by swinging his knee back and bringing it up level with her crotch. “Ye pull yer leg back and bring it up right into his groin. Do not be shy ‘bout it, slam it into his balls with every bit of strength ye can muster.”

  He had Valeria practice with her hands on his shoulders, bringing her knee up to his side. He might be able to spar with a knife, but the thought of a direct hit with a knee to the ballocks made his eyes tear.

  Once he was satisfied she’d learned the lesson with uncanny accuracy, Taran found a strip of leather in his saddlebag. He showed Valeria how to tie the dirk to the inside of her leg, just above the knee. “No one will see it there, and most likely the enemy won’t suspect a woman like ye to be armed.”

  “Like me?”

  “Ye ken, being a noblewoman.”

  Valeria nodded.

  The makeshift wooden swords clashed behind. Taran turned to watch. “I think the wee lad is a fast learner as well. Look, he’s giving Fionn a bit of sass.”

  Valeria grasped his arm and leaned into him. “Do not underestimate Manas, he’s got the heart of a lion, that boy. He just needs a mentor to help him develop it.”

  “Greum’s a good man for the job and without a wife, he’s got time on his hands.”

  “Why is Greum not married?”

  “He was chained to the warship alongside me—no’ much time for courtship when ye’re rowing for the Empire.”

  Valeria grinned and then threw her head back and laughed.

  “What?”

  “You’d most likely be married to Leda at this very moment if the Emperor had not intervened.”

  By the stars, he loved her. Reaching out, he brushed her silky smooth cheek with the palm of his hand. “I cannot bear to think of it, m’lady.”

  The soft blush rising up her cheeks made his chest swell. He wanted to grasp her hand and take her to the nearest glade and shower her with kisses. But the tapping of the wood stopped. Taran glanced up. The boys all looked at him expectantly. “We’ve had enough training for today. ’Tis time to mount up.”

  Valeria turned in a circle. “Where are Pia and Seumas?”

  Greum cleared his throat. “Last I saw them, they took off toward that clump of trees yonder.”

  She stomped her dainty foot. “Oh my heavens, they’re acting like a pair of lovebirds.”

  “Perish the thought, m’lady.” Taran grinned at her pursed lips, as she stood with her hands on her hips. “Greum, go down and tell them it’s time to go.”

  Pia had
fair bit more color in her face when they returned. With a contented smile across her lips, the old woman appeared younger than her years.

  Valeria mounted her horse and turned tail without a word.

  Taran chuckled, wondering what ire spun through that pretty head of flowing black locks.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The sun had nearly vanished when they came upon a roundhouse that appeared to be abandoned. Taran and Greum rode around the structure, looking for clues of any recent inhabitants and found none. Regardless, Taran dismounted, drew his sword and pounded on the door.

  Slowly opening it, he paused to let his eyes adjust to the dim light before he stepped inside. “Hello? We come in peace.” With no response, he took a turn around the creaking wooden floor and found nothing but a wooden chair. However, the hovel had a sound stone hearth and a thatched roof through that showed little daylight.

  He beckoned the others. “The place is empty. It will provide good shelter for the night.”

  Seumas helped Pia dismount.

  “We’ll fetch some firewood,” she said.

  Valeria’s fists flew to her hips as she watched them head into the forest. “Stay close to the house, you could run into a pack of wolves or worse.”

  Taran noted the sarcasm in her voice. “Leave them be. How often have ye seen her happy?”

  “She’s happy all the time.”

  “But have ye ever seen a man look her way?”

  “No, of course not. She’s my slave.”

  Cringing, Taran pulled the saddle off his horse. “Ye believe in human bondage?”

  She stomped a dainty foot. “’Tis not like that with Pia.”

  “No? Is that how she feels about it?”

  Valeria said nothing, her mouth gaping while she watched him haul his saddle into the house. Taran ground his back molars. If Valeria were to commit to being a Pict, her acceptance of slave ownership must be resolved. She had a kind heart, but had lived her entire life with a double standard. He wanted her to understand what life was like from Pia’s point of view. He recalled the night when Pia leaned forward and told him she was a slave. She hadn’t been too chipper about it at the time.