by Jane Stain
“My bracer.”
His proximity clouded her brain. “Oh, aye. Canna wander aboot with this on. Who kens when I might disappear back tae Celtic?” She tried a lighthearted laugh, but it sounded shrill.
Heart aflutter, it was all she could do to open her pack on the bed, gingerly take off the bronze bracer, and put it inside. All she wanted to do was pull him down on top of her and...
“Nay, ye promised tae …”
She couldn’t look at him as she closed up her pack and put it back on. “What?”
"Never ye mind. Times are different, as ye ken, sae if the two o’ us come oot o’ this room together, we had best tell people ye are my wife."
"Fine. I dinna hae a mind tae speak with anyone anyhow."
"Even still."
She stared at his hand holding hers.
"I wull let go," he said, "when ye agree tae act like we are marrit —in front o’ others."
She huffed to cover her blush and the trembling of her hand. "Verra wull. Now unhand me."
He did, and then he opened the door and gestured for her to precede him out.
She had to hand it to him, he’d always been a gentleman. At least in his mannerisms, if not in keeping his word. The more important part.
Fortunately, no one spoke to them on their way out into the dark street, lit only by the light coming out through the curtained windows. The hatmaker’s shop was closed, they walked to the next street, then crossed to the other side and entered the dressmaker’s shop.
"I was beginning tae think ye would na return. Tell me, dae ye want the dress, or nay?"
Unsure what to say, Sarah looked to Meehall for help.
He put his hand on the small of her back. "'Tis sorry we are for any trouble tae ye, howsoever, my wife's friends were kidnapped this day. Can ye show me where they went when they were separated from her?"
Anger flared in the shopkeeper's face, and Sarah was relieved. She'd expected a scene, but now it appeared they were going to get help.
"I sent them oot my back door tae the privy." She put down her sewing and got up to lead the way. "Just oot here."
Meehall kept his hand on Sarah's back the whole time he escorted her out into the alley. "I thank ye," he said to the shopkeeper with a sincere dip of his chin. "Please, gae back tae business. We wullna keep ye any longer."
Sarah felt guilty. "Finish the dress," she told her with what she hoped was a placating smile, holding out the silver coin. "I took far tae much o’ yer time not tae give ye my custom."
The shopkeeper took it, giving them both a graceful smile. "Grateful I am, that ye could think o’ me in a time o’ such distress. Here’s hoping ye find the lasses."
"Did ye see the man who was following us when we first entered yer shop?"
"Aye, that I did. ’Twas Coll Cameron."
Meehall’s hand on her back tensed. "We canna waste any time. We must get Smoke and ride for the Cameron camp."
The shopkeeper led them back through her shop, moving things out of their way. "Godspeed."
Meehall took off running. "There is na time tae waste. The lasses will be forced tae wed Camerons. I hae tae rescue them straight away. I wull ride tae their camp, sneak in and grab them, and ride out."
Sarah ran to keep up with him as they approached the inn. "I'm going with ye, or how wull ye ken ’tis my friends?"
As they ran, he lowered his face at her as if to say ‘Really? How stupid do you think I am? Two modern women will stand out among the people of this time.’ But out loud he only said, "I feared ye would says sae."
They had arrived at the inn’s stable door.
He opened it and gestured for her to precede him into the darkness.
She went in and quickly moved aside to make room for him.
A yawning stable boy brought Smoke out.
Meehall’s horse was a large gray who danced in place, he was so impatient to get on the road.
Sarah went digging in her bag for the money purse, saying to the stable hand, "I wish tae hire a horse for myself, a gentle mare."
But Meehall stayed her hand. "My wife will ride with me." He held her wrist with one hand while helping the boy tack up the horse with the other.
Sarah tried to jerk free of his hold, but it was firm. Their struggle made her bag tilt to the side. This revealed a glimpse of the bracer, which caught the lamplight and shined for a moment, glinting there. She jerked the bag to make the lid come down and then put it firmly on her shoulder.
But Meehall had seen. He glanced significantly down at the force he was using to hold onto her wrist, up at her bag, and then into her eyes.
His resolute stare infuriated her mind, but it was making her body react in ways she would rather it didn't.
He lowered his head to her ear and breathed for only her to hear, "Out of respect for you, I won’t just take it, but there’s a limit." He drew away and then said for the stable boy’s ears as well, "This is na a pleasure ride, Sarah. We wull get there faster if I dinna hae tae guide ye."
"But…" Sarah couldn't say what she was thinking in front of the stable boy. He was young, and only his parents should tell him about such things. But she met Meehall’s eyes and let him see the reluctance in her face.
He shrugged dramatically. "That’s one of the things you should consider before you insist upon coming along." He gave her that resolute stare again, the one that had made her resist riding horseback with him in the first place. "’Twould be best if ye bided here at the inn."
"I am na gaun'ae dae that."
"Then ye are gaun'ae ride with me."
He and the stable hand were done saddling the horse, and Meehall climbed up, eyes now resentfully on her pack that contained the bracer, letting her know in no uncertain terms that her possession of it was the only reason he didn't just charge off without her.
She reached for him to help her up. "I canna bide here with my friends oot wondering why I dragged them intae this."
He pointed at her backpack. "Close that bag properly, and put it firmly on ye. Tie the straps."
She did as he said, looking down to hide the flush that rose in her cheeks. How could she have been so careless with the bracer?
He reached down and helped her up, seating her behind him and putting her arms firmly around his waist while speaking to the stableboy. "Tell Master Neil we wull return on the morrow, and tae please hold a room for us." He held out a copper coin.
The stable boy took the coin and bowed his head, then ran off through the door to the inn.
Being this close to Meehall was just as torturous as Sarah had feared it would be. He felt so good. He always had. As if she belonged next to him. And she couldn't shrink away from his touch, because the horse felt lively under her, like a motorcycle that would take off at full speed any second.
They rode in silence through the dark streets of Inverness, still bustling with people. There were several taverns here on the main road and the people walked to and fro from one to another.
But once they had ridden through the city gate onto the highway, the night was deserted. Not even the stars could be seen under Scotland's cloudy sky.
It was chilly, and Sarah found herself clinging to Meehall for warmth as well.
Every few steps, the horse would try and take off running, perhaps sensing their need for urgency.
But Meehall reined him in.
Sarah couldn't take it anymore. "Why dae ye na let him run?"
"’Tis a long way, and even a horse grows weary. Nay, we wull arrive sooner if he walks."
"How long will it take?"
"We wull be there afore morning."
"Dae ye think they'll be marrit off in the night?"
"Nay."
For awhile, the only sound was the clopping of the horse’s hooves.
"Listen," Meehall said to the night in front of him, "I would never have left you under ordinary circumstances, Sarah. But it was for your own good—"
"Kelsey told me already."
&
nbsp; Was she imagining it, or had his breathing sped up? More importantly, why did she care? She needed to think about something else.
But the only other thing on her mind was fear for her friends. What must they be going through? Imagining their tear-streaked faces brought tears to her own eyes —and sobs to her chest. This was her fault. Her selfishness had caused her friends misery. Why had she insisted on time traveling and bringing them with her?
Meehall’s voice was less haughty and more compassionate. "When we get there, you stay on Smoke. He'll protect you if … need be. You hear?"
Too racked with sobs now to speak, Sarah nodded her head against his back, using the movement to wipe some of her tears away.
"Good. I'm thriving here in this time. I like it far better than modern life, but—"
"Shut up, Michael. Just shut up."
6
In the black of night, Meehall stopped Smoke on top of the ridge over Cameron camp, gave his horse the pat that said ‘hold still until told otherwise,’ and climbed down, leaving Sarah in the saddle alone. "If the Camerons find ye, ride away tae safety. Dinna stop till ye are back inside the gates o’ Inverness."
She started to object. He could see it in the way her eyes sparkled, the way she cocked her head to the side, the sharp breath she took.
He grabbed hold of her knee and shook it, stroking Smoke’s neck to keep the horse still. "Heed me, Sarah. There are na police in this time. If the Camerons find ye, ye must needs go back tae the inn and use the bracer tae return home. Tell Kelsey what happened. She wull ken what tae dae. Give me yer word ye wull heed this."
She swallowed, and tears fell from her eyes as she winced down at him from Smoke’s calm and steady back. "This is all getting tae much for my heart tae take, Meehall. Would that we had called upon Kelsey tae begin with."
"Aboot that," he said frankly, now gripping her knee in earnest while he rested a calming hand on Smoke’s nose. "I was na comfortable with Kelsey at oor private lunch yesterday. She looked at me the way the druids dae, ye ken? As if she could see my whole life playing oot before her. She has taken on their airs as wull. I am telling ye, oor friend bides inside her head somewhere, but she has become one o’ them. I dinna trust her."
Sarah's tears flowed freely now, dripping off her cheeks and falling down onto her dark woolen skirts.
She wiped her nose with the back of her hand. "I dae ken. Hoping, I was, that it was just my own notion. But now I ken ye hae the right o’ it." She hastily took off her backpack, no small feat on horseback and holding the reins. "Here, I can offer ye a wee bit o’ help. This fancy bag o’ modern wonders is from the place where Lauren worked, back in our time. Kelsey gave it to me just last week, sae she isna all gone, I dinna think. Take this. 'Tis one o’ those emergency signal lights backpackers take intae the wild. 'Tis a verra bright light, and nay one here wull be expecting that." She handed him what looked like a thick pen.
"My thanks. It just may come in handy." He played with it for a moment, turning the strobe off and on, and when he was confident he could work it, put it in his sporran. He then trailed his hand along Smoke’s side while he walked back to the saddlebags. "Caress his neck, Sarah. ’Twill keep him calm."
She did as he asked, surprising him by keening to Smoke as she did. Pretty effectively, too, even if it did sound like she was petting a dog. "There’s a good boy. Yeah. Yer staying still, are ye na?"
He got his sword belt down and strapped it on over his kilt. "We wull be in a grand hurry when I return, sae let us now work oot who wull walk and who wull ride, and where. Yer friends are na fat, are they?"
Sarah laughed, and because she was still crying, her eyes sparkled like diamonds in the faint moonlight that managed to sneak down through the thick Scottish clouds. "Nay, neither o’ them weighs much more than 100 pounds. The four o’ us on Smoke will weigh nay more than two large men."
His hand moved to pat her knee in sympathy, but he resisted the urge to touch her again. "Wull enough. Here I go. Be ready. Put yer pack on the front o’ ye.” He waited while she did it. “Aye. I wull hand them up tae sit behind ye. I wull run."
She was trembling, but her tears had slowed.
Good. He needed her to have her head about her.
"Godspeed, Michael."
"I wull see ye afore long," he said as he turned around and headed for the steep trail he had made.
Aye, he had crept in among the Camerons before, to spy on them. They weren't nearly as careful as they should be with the side of their camp that was up against the mountain. Climbing down from above it was difficult, to be sure —he hoped the lasses would be able to manage, come to think of it— but it was doable. Eminently doable. Even in the dark, like now.
There weren't any fires in the camp. All were abed then, all who would be.
He was tempted to use the signal light to help him see. It was such a fun gadget, and he hadn't had much chance to play with gadgets these past eight years.
But he might as well put a big floating arrow over his head, saying ‘Here I am! Come get me, ye Camerons!’ So he painstakingly climbed down in the dark until he got to the edge of the camp and heard people snoring inside their tents.
Wait. Now that he was down here and no longer exerting himself to climb, he heard people talking. Who would be the only ones up this late? The guards. The ones who were guarding the lasses.
He crept through the camp toward the voices.
Lest anyone come out in need of relieving themselves, he always kept in mind where he would run and hide if that should happen. There was nothing specific about his apparel that would give him away, but the clan was small enough that they would recognize him as a stranger right off, even in the dark.
At long last, he came upon the lasses. Foolish Camerons. They had placed their captive brides near the base of the mountain, on the opposite end of the camp from where he’d come down. There was another way up not far from here.
Now, all he had to do was sneak up behind the guards and knock them out, untie the lasses from each other's backs, and help them climb up to Sarah and Smoke.
He snuck around some bushes and readied the end of his sword to strike both men in the head.
He paused. The guards were ten feet away. Before he got to them, the lasses would surely notice him.
He put his finger over his lips and, praying the lasses would keep quiet and not give his presence away, he crept out from behind the bushes.
The one lass with the red hair and freckles saw him first. Good lass. She fell over on her side away from him, taking the other lass with her.
The other lass groaned at thudding upon the ground, drawing the attention of their guards.
Both men quit talking and looked down at the lasses.
Meehall made his move. After getting close enough to knock the one guard out, he raised his sword to strike the other.
But the Cameron who remained standing opened his mouth to yell.
Meehall covered the man’s mouth with his hand, but in order to do this, he had to drop his sword.
The Cameron got in a good blow to Meehall’s head.
Meehall wrestled him to the ground and subdued him, but he heard the camp rousing. He only had a few seconds before people would be here. He grabbed his sword, ran to the lasses, and used it to cut their bonds, whispering as he did, "We hae tae climb the cliff. Sarah is up there with the horse. We dinna hae any time tae lose, sae stay with me, ye ken?"
They both nodded fiercely, the one helping ungag the other.
He moved briskly toward the other trail, the more difficult one.
The lasses hurried after him.
They had gone thirty feet up when an arrow whizzed past his head.
"Go on, keep climbing," he told the lasses as he took out the strobe light and set it to not blink. He turned it on and aimed it where the arrow had come from, moving it around so that the impossibly bright light shone everywhere, hopefully making his enemies night blind.
Cameron c
ries of alarm pleased him immensely.
This part of the trail at the beginning was the hardest part though, and the lasses were having a lot of trouble finding hand and footholds in the dark.
"Would it be easier on ye if I went ahead tae show the way?"
"Aye," said the redhead. Ellie, from Sarah’s description.
He made his way up past them. “The right hand goes here, and then the right foot here, ye see?” He turned his head to check for understanding.
And then two Cameron men who obviously had not gotten the light in their faces popped up right behind the lasses, grabbed them, and carried them toward the camp down the steep trail.
The lasses kicked and fought, but they screamed too, no doubt waking the entire camp.
Why had he not seen that coming? Of course he hadn’t night blinded all the Camerons.
Meehall cursed, and then he yelled down to the lasses, "We wull return for ye. On my word."
There were fires in the camp now, so he could see the lasses being tied up once more. He could also see that more men were on their way up the hill after him.
Meehall cursed all the way up to the top of the mountain.
"Sarah! Sarah, over here!"
There were hoofbeats, but they sounded too far away. He ran in their direction, and just when he thought she was going to be too late and the Camerons were going to catch up behind him, she appeared.
She looked horrified.
He held up his hands to soothe her. "I had yer friends, Sarah. I had them freed, and they are wull." He climbed up on Smoke behind her, in the spot meant for her friends. "Not injured in the least. But then I lost them again. I'm sae sorry, Sarah."
Being surprisingly gentle to him who had disappointed her so, she pulled his arms tightly around her.
"What are ye on aboot?"
"’Tis naught," she said, but he could tell she was lying.
"I will na play this game with ye, Sarah. I ken ye wull tell me eventually."
This side of the mountain sloped much more gradually, and she coaxed Smoke into a canter, sensibly putting more distance between them and the Camerons.
He made his voice as contrite as he could, under the circumstances. "Ye must hae taken riding lessons since the last time we spoke. Ye are handling Smoke wull."
