A strange shriek, one of pain and fear, caught her attention. She stepped outside of the doorway and looked around. When she heard it again, she realized it was a cat. Then she heard the laughter of boys. Without another thought, she started toward the sounds, which were coming from an alley just across the rutted, muddy road.
She had fully expected to find boys tormenting some poor animal, but Elspeth was still shocked at the cruelty she saw. Four youths had cornered a large cat at the back of the alley between the butcher’s shop and a small candlemaker’s shop. They were taking turns poking the animal with sharpened sticks, laughing heartily as it howled and tried to defend itself. Already its fur was matted with blood, so much so that even the mud on its coat could not hide it. They were torturing the animal to death and finding humor in its valiant struggle to stay alive.
Elspeth marched right up to the closest boy, soundly boxed his ears, and grabbed his stick when he dropped it. She then found herself facing four scowling boys, who, although younger than her, were all a lot bigger. And now they were angry.
“Such men ye are to torture a wee animal to death,” she sneered at them.
“’Tis just a cat,” grumbled the one she had struck. He glared at her as he rubbed his abused ears.
“’Tis smaller than ye and ye have it trapped. ’Tis but one cat and there are four of you. ’Tis naught but cowardly, cruel torture, and ye should all be ashamed of yourselves.”
“Is it yours?” asked the smallest of the four, who had already tossed aside his stick.
“Nay, but that doesnae mean I will allow ye to continue this sickening game,” Elspeth said.
“And ye think ye can stop it?” said the biggest youth. “There are four of us and nay too much of ye, lass.”
The arrogance of the boy made Elspeth ache to slap him numb. He could not be much older than four and ten, for there was only the hint of future hair on his narrow face. The sneering way he said the word lass and the contempt on his face told her that he already had a very low opinion of women. She suspected his father, if he had one about, was a swinish brute. The way the other three youths looked at him told her they recognized him as the leader of the pack, admired for his maturity and strength. That only made her all the more eager to set him in his place, for he would eventually corrupt the others. Glancing at the poor cat, she wondered if he had not already accomplished that.
“I have seven brothers and a vast horde of male cousins,” she said, keeping her voice hard and fixing her gaze firmly on him. “Ye dinnae frighten me, laddie. Any mon who needs three others just to corner and torment a wee cat is naught but a cowardly, wee worm who needs the pain of those weaker and smaller to make himself look big.”
“Ye black-haired bitch,” he snarled and charged at her.
Elspeth let him come, and just as he reached for her, she darted to the side. He stumbled past her and she kicked him in the backside. Cursing with an amazing fluency, he sprawled facedown in the dirt, his stick flying out of his hand. Elspeth quickly kicked it out of his reach and tossed hers after it. When he staggered to his feet, she faced him, her fists clenched and ready. He looked surprised for a moment, then sneered, assuming he would now have the upper hand. He clearly had paid no heed to her talk of her brothers and cousins. Elspeth had no trouble fighting a lad, even one a little bigger than she was. Recalling what he had called her just before he had charged, she decided she was also going to enjoy it.
“Ye must be mad,” he scoffed, putting up his fists. “Ye willnae be so bonny soon.”
His fists were a lot bigger than hers, but Elspeth was still not worried. A youth like him would not have any true skill, for he had simply not had the time to learn it. She was undoubtedly quicker. He was facing her squarely, confident of his superiority. She knew how to stay out of the way of those fists. Elspeth smiled. She also had no qualms about cheating.
He swung, oblivious to the soft protests of his friends, who obviously felt he should not be fighting with a lady. Elspeth ducked and hit him hard in the stomach. His friends grew silent. The boy cursed and swung again. Elspeth ducked and popped back up to punch him in the nose. He howled and put a hand over his bleeding nose. She reached out, grabbed his little finger, and began to bend it backward. For a brief moment she was afraid he would hold firm until it broke; then he yielded, allowing her to urge him down on his knees. When he tried to grab at her with his other hand, she caught hold of the little finger of that hand as well, but did not have to bend it far before he became still. She had the little bully completely at her mercy now. All she had to do was think of the right things to say, something that might actually spark a hint of wisdom in his head.
“Do ye need any help, angel?” drawled an all too familiar voice.
Cormac had seen Elspeth disappear from the front of the stables and cursed. After settling with the stablemaster, he hurried after her. He had thought that he had made her understand the danger she was in. By the time he got outside the stables, all he saw of her was a flash of skirt as she disappeared into an alley across the street. Her impulsiveness was going to get her killed, he thought angrily as he went after her, pausing only long enough to make sure no one was around who might trap them both in the alley.
He arrived just in time to see her kick the older youth in the backside. Although he stayed to the shadows, he was ready to move in quickly. Cormac gaped along with the boys when she readied herself to fight it out with the young bully who had cursed her. The boy was right. She was mad. The boy was younger but he was bigger and stronger. And, Cormac thought crossly, well-bred young ladies were not supposed to indulge in brawls.
Even as Cormac moved closer, intending to put a quick stop to this foolishness, the youth threw the first punch. Cormac stopped, impressed by how quickly Elspeth moved. Someone had taught her well. She was too small and delicate to trade punch for punch, but she was obviously very good at ducking, then darting in to strike hard and fast before skipping out of reach again. He was very interested in the way she brought the young bully to his knees.
And all for a cat, he mused, one look at the animal enough to tell him that she had caught the boys in the midst of torturing the animal. Only Elspeth would find that something to fight about. Cormac moved out of the shadows and almost smiled at the way the friends of Elspeth’s foe looked at him in horror. One thing that struck him as odd was that the cat had not run away. It sat there, steadily watching Elspeth with its big yellow eyes. When Elspeth routed the bully, Cormac could have sworn the cat smiled; then he told himself not to be such a fanciful idiot. It was just a trick of the dim light in the alley. He turned his attention to Elspeth and spoke to let her know he was there.
Elspeth almost cursed when she saw Cormac standing there, but she struggled to act as if there was nothing unusual about a well-bred lass thrashing a young man. “Nay, thank ye, Sir Cormac. I believe I have everything weel in hand.”
“Oh, aye, I believe ye do. Argued a lot with your brothers and cousins, did ye?”
She decided he expected no reply to his nonsense, so she turned her attention on the boy. “Ye are a wretched child,” she scolded the youth. “I dinnae ken if ye have the wit to understand this, but try to heed me. This sort of behavior does ye no honor. Ye belittle yourself when ye prey upon the weaker, the smaller. Mayhap ye should recite and recall a few old but verra wise sayings. Make friends, nay enemies, and ye will live longer. Ye can catch more flies with honey than with vinegar. Honor lost is forever gone. Do unto others as ye would have them do unto you.”
“Enough!” the youth cried.
“Tormented by proverbs,” murmured Cormac. “An unusual yet obviously effective torture.”
Elspeth decided that, as soon as she was done with the boy, she would hit Cormac. “Laddie, if ye build a name as a bully, if ye gain your strength only by tormenting the weak, ye will sorely regret it. Ye will be constantly challenged, and one day, someone bigger and stronger than ye will repay all your wee cruelties with some of his ow
n.” She released him and watched him stagger to his feet. “If ye gain followers through fear, once ye yourself are conquered by someone stronger, faster, and crueler than you, none of those who bowed to you will come to your defense. Now go ere I think of a few more words of wisdom to deafen ye with.”
She did not even bother to see if the boys did as she told them to, but turned to the cat. Cormac was there. He would watch her back. Murmuring gentling words, Elspeth slowly approached the wounded animal. It seemed somewhat strange that it just sat there, apparently unafraid, and watched her. She prayed that the calm acceptance she sensed in the animal was because it instinctively trusted her and not because it was so close to death it had no more strength to fight.
Cormac watched the boys until he was sure they weregone and had no intention of retaliating. Then he turned back to watch Elspeth. “Ye shouldnae get so close. He could be maddened with pain and hurt you.”
“’Tis just a cat,” she said, still keeping her voice low and calm as she held her hand out, palm up, for the cat to study and sniff as it pleased. “It may give me a few nasty scratches, but it cannae kill me. Nay like a dog could.”
“That beast is near as big as a dog. Mayhap I should just put it out of its misery.”
“The poor laddie is miserable, but I dinnae think he is so bad he must be killed.” She flashed Cormac a brief happy smile when the cat licked her fingers and then stuck his big head under her palm so that she could scratch his battered ears.
“What is that noise?”
“’Tis the cat. He purrs.” She took a cloth out of her herb bag and gently wrapped it around the cat before picking it up. “Ah, my poor, sad laddie. Be at ease. I will tend all your hurts,” she murmured as she stood with the cat in her arms.
“Elspeth, please tell me that ye arenae intending to keep that brute.” Cormac sighed when she just stared at him as if she expected him to understand. “’Tis but a cat, Elspeth.”
“He likes me. I have to get him somewhere I can clean him and tend to his wounds. The poor wee thing has dozens of them. Are we to stay at the inn?”
“Aye, I sent the stable boy to secure us a room.” He sighed again when he saw that she was not going to release the foolish cat and gently nudged her ahead of him out of the alley. “He willnae stay, especially if ye try to clean him.”
Elspeth allowed Cormac to escort her to the inn. She knew Cormac would not understand why she had to keep the cat. She already knew it would break her heart to lose the animal, and the cat seemed to have decided that she was his. The animal should have fled the moment the boys had turned their attention to her, but it had not. It had sat there quietly, watching her discipline its tormentors and waiting for her to claim him.
The moment they stepped into the inn, Cormac was hailed by two men. Their abrupt greeting startled her and she felt Cormac tense at her side. The cat also tensed, pressing itself closer to her chest. Elspeth suspected it would be a long time before the cat accepted men. Its experience in the alley, and probably elsewhere, had taught it that the males of the world were not to be easily trusted.
“Cormac, good to see ye, old friend,” said a tall blond man as he lightly slapped Cormac on the back.
“Aye,” agreed a plumper, shorter, and much darker man. “We hadnae thought to find ye until we got to court.” After vigorously shaking Cormac’s hand, he turned to smile at Elspeth. “Introduce us, Cormac.”
Cormac was glad to see his friends. They were good men. He had fought alongside Sir Owen MacDunn and Sir Paul MacLennon several times. He was not, however, glad to introduce them to Elspeth. They were looking at her too intently and seemed too pleased to be doing so. Reluctantly, he made the introductions, scowling when, because she was holding the cat, she offered the two men her cheek to kiss in greeting.
“I didnae ken ye were wed now, Cormac,” said Sir Owen, absently brushing a lock of his fair hair off his face.
“Or betrothed, either,” said Sir Paul as he cautiously reached out one slightly plump hand to pat the cat, his hazel eyes widening at the huge purr that erupted from the animal.
“He isnae either,” Elspeth said, blushing faintly, but determined to tell the truth, if only to stop Cormac from doing so in a way that could easily be a little too blunt and painful for her taste. “We travel together to the court.” She was a little surprised at the depth of the disappointment that briefly showed in their expressions.
“Wait here,” Cormac told them. “I will go and see about our room, Elspeth.”
“He is still running after that cursed bitch Isabel,” snapped Paul after Cormac walked away.
Somewhat stunned at the hard anger in the very amiable-looking man’s voice, Elspeth said quietly, “I fear so. Although, at the moment, I have succeeded in slowing his pace a great deal.” When both men looked at her and smiled with blatant approval, she smiled back. “For now, he seems to have forgotten his urgent need to get to her before she is married again.”
“Do ye believe she is simply ill used and ill fated?” Owen asked.
“I believe her to be a coldhearted, murderous woman who has buried four ill-fated husbands and toys with Cormac like some spoiled, vain child. I believe she could have kept the Douglases off his back ten years ago, but couldnae be troubled to do so or, mayhap, e’en set them there to protect herself.”
“Ah, so ye have met the woman then,” drawled Owen. He grinned when Elspeth giggled, but then he sighed. “I just thought, when we saw him with ye, a weelborn lass…” He stumbled to a halt and colored slightly when he realized he could not continue without saying something indelicate, perhaps even insulting.
“Cormac will explain why I am here, traveling alone with him. As for the rest, I pray ye will look kindly upon my sins. I intend to win him away from Isabel but have little time in which to do so. Virtue and maidenly modesty are not what will defeat that woman or break her grip. ’Tis a fierce battle I fight now and I pray ye will view my sins as but necessary tactics or weapons.” She waited a little tensely for their reaction to those words, breathing a healthy sigh of relief when they both slowly grinned.
“Clever lass,” murmured Owen. “Do ye think ye can win?”
“I think so, but ’tis hard to say,” replied Elspeth. “I have weakened her grip. Of that much I am sure. But she has held him for ten years or more. Her talons have sunk deep. The few weeks I have may not be enough to extract them.”
“If he doesnae choose you, m’lady, he deserves to be thrashed within an inch of his miserable life.”
“If he doesnae choose me, I give ye leave to do just that.”
Cormac frowned when he returned to find his friends laughing companionably with Elspeth. “A lad waits at the stairs to show ye to our room,” he told Elspeth. “Do ye think ye can fix the cat enough so that he will be able to fend for himself again?”
“Oh, aye, I can fix him,” she said, refusing to respond to his implication that she would have to let the cat go. “Shall I see ye both at the evening meal?” she asked Cormac’s two friends, and when they both nodded, she went to find her room.
“I think she means to keep that cat, Cormac,” Paul said, watching Elspeth follow a boy up the stairs.
“I think she does, too,” Cormac said, sighing with resignation.
“Just what is wrong with it?”
As Cormac nudged them toward a table and ordered them each an ale, he told them the whole story. Cormac relaxed a little because his friends were both amused and astonished by Elspeth’s actions. He knew just when the amiable conversation was going to turn serious, however, could see it in their expressions, but he could not think of a way to avoid it. As quickly as he could, he told them what had happened to Elspeth, the danger she was in, but he could see that it was not enough to divert them, either.
“Ye should marry that lass,” Owen said in his usual blunt manner. “Ye dishonor her otherwise.”
“I think ’twould take far more than I could ever do to tarnish Elspeth’s honor,” Cor
mac said carefully. “And I cannae marry her, though she would make a fine wife. I am not free.” He ignored their muttered curses, hardened to the disapproval of his friends and kinsmen. “I have made that verra clear to Elspeth, but she says it doesnae matter.”
“And ye believe her. Ye believe that a lady, who has held firm to her chastity for nearly twenty years, will then toss it all aside for the bonny smile of a mon chasing after another woman, just because of a simple lusting?”
“Nay,” Cormac admitted reluctantly, “though it took a wee while for that truth to sink in. I was a wee bit too muddled to think clearly. And I am nay really the villain here. True, I am weak, too weak to resist temptation, but I was sorely pressed. She may look a sweet angel, but she is a determined lass when she decides she wants something.” He flushed a little under the looks of amused scorn his friends sent him. “Tell me, if a lass like that freely offered herself to ye, making no demands and asking no promises, how long do ye think ye would hold out?”
“About one heartbeat,” said Owen and Paul nodded a firm agreement.
“Weel, to the reason why we have been looking for ye: to give ye a warning,” Paul said. “And now we ken why it is needed.”
“A warning about what?” asked Cormac.
“A certain Sir Colin is hard on your heels. He searches for ye and the lass. Claims ye stole her and she is his betrothed.”
“’Tis a lie. As I said, Elspeth refused to wed him and he kidnapped her to try to force her to it.”
Paul nodded. “We felt there had to be a good reason for ye to disappear with the lass.”
“I had hoped that we had shaken free of the mon, that he wouldnae be able to guess which way we went. Too many other choices for him to make.”
“He does complain vigorously about the ineptitude of his men and how long it took them to find your trail. But he is on it now, and ye and Elspeth are the sort most folk recall verra clearly.”
Highland Vow Page 9
