The Highlander's Honorable Savior (Iron 0f The Highlands Series Book 4)

by Emilia Ferguson

  “Good morning,” she said. Her voice was frosty.

  Arthur felt his head twitch in impatience. Why was Bonnie being so awkward? The soldier was here to help them. He would have killed them in their sleep, had he been after something other than that.

  “Thank you,” he said a little grudgingly, as he saw that she’d found a bucket and filled it with fresh water. They would need water, and some means to boil it, were they to make gruel.

  “Lass! What a fine job.” The soldier commented as she brought the pail across to where he tended the fire. “You’re a kind lass, so you are.”

  Bonnie said nothing. Arthur felt torn between confusion at Bonnie’s recalcitrance and a twinge of jealousy that the soldier thought he could speak that way.

  “I’ll get some wood,” he grunted. He walked out of the shelter. It felt good to be moving and he strode into the tree line, searching for any dry twigs he could find. He collected an armload of kindling and went back to the shelter. The sound of boiling water met him. When he came in, Bonnie was sitting with her back to the wall, her knees drawn up to her chest. Lying beside her on the floor was a knife. Her eyes were huge and watched the soldier, who was obliviously making breakfast.

  “Here we go,” Arthur said, dropping the load of wood near to the doorway. “The name’s Arthur.” He held out a hand, giving the fellow a broad smile.

  “Alister,” the soldier said, shaking his hand. He looked across at Bonnie, his brow lifted hopefully. Arthur cleared his throat to introduce her, then thought the better of it, treating her as if she were a child, unable to speak for herself, was not right.

  “Bonnie,” she managed to say. She didn’t look at the man as she said it, but over at the wall behind him. Arthur noticed that Alister looked hurt. He coughed.

  “We can add a loaf of bread into the gruel?” he suggested, reaching for his bundle of provisions. “I don’t know what else we can put in it?”

  “I have provisions,” the soldier said, and opened a bag Arthur hadn’t seen he had with him. He drew out a piece of salt ham and Arthur felt his guts tighten with anticipation. He hadn’t realized how much he wanted something like that.

  “Thanks,” he said with real feeling. Bonnie said nothing and Arthur felt a bit annoyed. They were lucky that Alister had chosen to stay and share things with them! He turned toward him. “You mentioned a farm nearby, friend?”

  “We can go after breakfast,” Alister nodded. “It’s not far. We should be there mid-morning, if we leave at nine of the clock.”

  “How will you reckon the time?” Arthur frowned.

  “Listen,” the man said, jerking his head at the door. “You’ll hear the priory bell.”

  “Oh.” Arthur nodded, impressed by the important knowledge the man had. He knew the lay of the land, and neither he nor Bonnie had much idea where they were. They desperately needed somebody like Alister if they were to get out of these woods and to a warm, safe place. He frowned at Bonnie where she sat against the wall, but said nothing.

  The breakfast was ready soon enough, and Arthur scraped around in his pack for something to eat off. The three of them settled on sharing the bucket, each equipped with knives to eat with. The soldier passed Bonnie his spoon. She took it, but, Arthur noticed, ate from the tip of her dagger instead. He wondered what was bothering her.

  He fell into step beside her as they left the shelter.

  He wanted to understand her reluctance, but at the same time he couldn’t help but feel impatient with it. This was their best way to safety. Hesitantly, he cleared his throat.

  “Lass, what’s bothering ye?” he asked. “This man’s right friendly. There’s no reason to fear him so, you know.”

  “Do you know?” she fixed him with a firm stare. “I don’t know aught about him. Nor do you.”

  “True,” Arthur shrugged admitting defeat. “But he shared his ham. What kind of person would share ham with you, only to kill you a few hours later, eh?” He laughed, but she went stiff.

  “A lot of people,” she whispered. “Ask a woman.”

  Arthur flinched as if she’d slapped his face. He knew she was probably right. All the same, he felt sullen about it. He liked Alister – he reminded him of one of the crewmen, Red, with whom he’d been close. He didn’t want to mistrust him.

  As if in answer, their friend turned to call to them. “Not much further now,” he said, grinning at them both. “I can see the path.” His eyes were clear and smiling and he seemed so sincere.

  “Good!” Arthur called back, encouragingly. “Well, then. Isn’t this a good day?” he turned to Bonnie. “I’m dreaming of a warm place, out of the damp.”

  “Aye,” Bonnie whispered, but the whisper was not altogether cheerful. Arthur frowned at her, then gave what he hoped was a reassuring grin.

  They reached the farm an hour later. Arthur felt his spirits soar. This was more like it! Some smoke furled from a chimney, and they stood facing a tall house with a roof done over in fresh thatch. He could smell the warm scent of hay and food cooking. His stomach lurched with the thought of another hot meal. He could hear people talking and a man came out of an outbuilding, carrying a clothes pile.

  “Isn’t that good, now?” he asked Bonnie. She’d barely spoken since they set out from the shelter. He noticed she’d gone pale. He reached for her hand but she kept her distance.

  “Hello?” Alister shouted. “Anybody here?”

  “I’m here, clod-headed ballocks brain,” the first man they’d seen said, a grin briefly lighting up his eyes. “What are you doing here?”

  In answer, Alister inclined his head meaningfully toward Arthur. For the first time, he felt a brief glimmer of mistrust.

  Alister grinned to him, allaying his fears. “I met these two in the forest,” he said. “They’re traveling from Stirling.”

  “Dunbar,” Arthur corrected swiftly. He saw Bonnie go tense.

  “Dunbar, yes.” Alister glossed over it with a deprecating smile. “How silly of me.”

  “Don’t fash,” Arthur grinned.

  He waited while Alister introduced him to the man who was carrying the things, who was named Callum, and another man, whose name Arthur didn’t recall. They joined three other men sitting around a fire in the building’s interior.

  All three men looked up at the newcomers with bored faces. Only when they saw Bonnie did they get an expression, and Arthur stepped beside her protectively, laying his hand on her shoulder in a way that was proprietary.

  “Hello, lads,” he said. “My lass and I want to join you to warm ourselves, if we might?”

  Bonnie looked up at him like she wanted to kill him, but Arthur saw her expression change as she understood why he’d done it. A woman alone would be a target to these men – they had already made that somewhat obvious. If it was known that she was with him, they’d behave more.

  “Aye,” she said.

  They went to sit at the fire. Arthur felt his fingers start to ache and burn as he held them to the flames, a sign that the blood was flowing properly again. He winced and flexed his fingers, wishing that the pain would go away swiftly. He glanced sideways at Bonnie.

  Her face pinched, Bonnie was leaning towards him and away from the soldier who sat beside her, trying to avoid any contact. Arthur reached over and put his hand on her arm, motioning that she should sit closer to him. She inched close, but kept space between their arms.

  Fine, Arthur thought, a little hurt. She could treat him like a man with the plague if she wanted to – what difference did it make to him? He nodded to Callum’s friend, who gave him a bowl of stew.

  “Warm yourself up.”

  “Thanks!” he took it and lifted the wooden spoon, then turned to Bonnie, offering her the plate first. She shook her head swiftly, but the man was already passing her a bowl of stew. She accepted it and he watched as she fell on the food, eating as if she’d never been fed before. He bit back a smile. He wished that he could tell her how utterly desirable she was, but knew he�
��d never get the chance to.

  What a lass, he thought to himself. All of a sudden, he wished they were back in the forest together, in the lean-to with the fire. He had been close to kissing her then. He wondered if, had they been left alone a while longer, he would have had a chance to do so.

  While they ate, the men talked. He found it hard to follow the conversation at first – they spoke the language of the lowlands, but in a dialect that he didn’t recognize. He started to become aware enough to recognize some words.

  “…and we’ll go to join them today.”

  “Aye. North, we should go. It’s not a long journey.”

  “Not long?” one of the men said with amusement. “Only long enough to numb your arse in the day’s riding.”

  They all laughed, except the man who’d been rebuked. He simply went red, and looked at the fire.

  Arthur watched them carefully. They seemed to be regular soldiers – no real trouble to anyone. He thought that they would be good people to stay with – and even if they were going to leave soon, they would doubtless have a map of some sort which would be able to help them find their way. He still had no real idea where they might go, but heading as close as they could to Stirling seemed sensible to him.

  “What’s happening in Stirling?” Arthur asked the men. “Are the English still near it?”

  Two of them looked up from their bowls suspiciously. Arthur felt a prickle of something run down his spine. He looked sideways at Bonnie, but she was staring through the door, her eyes somewhat unfocused as if her mind was elsewhere altogether.

  One of the soldiers recovered himself. He cleared his throat, giving the other man a hard look, as if to silence him. “Och, Stirling? Not worth your while. A mess…a right mess.” He shook his head and then looked down at the bowl of gruel.

  Arthur looked at his hands. He didn’t want Bonnie to have to hear details of a massacre that had involved people she knew. He frowned at the man.

  “I heard it was bad,” he said carefully. He glanced sideways at Bonnie. She was looking into the fire as if she hadn’t heard. “Is it possible to get nearby, though?” he inquired hesitantly.

  “No,” the soldier said. “I wouldn’t bother, if I were you. Patrols, everywhere.” He made a vague gesture with his hand. “You’ll not find a road without a block, and if you’re stopped, you’ll like as not be taken for questioning. They don’t know much about the land here and any information is valuable.”

  “I see,” Arthur nodded. He heard Bonnie make a small sound in her throat. He looked at her. She was gray with horror.

  “I think my lass needs some air,” he said quickly. He held out a hand to Bonnie and she took it and together they went out into the yard.

  “What, lass?” he asked, turning to her the moment they were through the door. His hand was on her shoulder. He tried to discern her fears.

  “Shh,” she said. She jerked her head in the direction of the fire. “They’re English soldiers.”

  “They don’t sound English,” Arthur said gently. How could they be? They were speaking Lowland Scots like he did. With an accent, admittedly. However, he felt sure fear had clouded her perception.

  “They’re English loyalists,” she said stiffly. “And they’ll question us.”

  “No,” Arthur shook his head. “If they would do that, why did they warn us? Lass, you must see, that’s nonsense. Yes?” He bit his lip, feeling afraid for her. Had so much hardship set loose the moorings of her mind?

  “They will,” she said firmly.

  Arthur heard a sound. As he looked up, he saw three men coming out through the door. They had knives and their faces were grim. His heart stopped.

  He turned to Bonnie, but she had already grabbed his hand and was pulling him sharply sideways.

  “Run,” she called out. “For your own sake…run!”

  Arthur wheeled around just as the men, knives drawn, swarmed down the steps toward them.

  A Fight In The Woods

  Bonnie ran, feeling horror give her feet strength as she heard the clash of weapons in the yard. She reached the safety of a barn, but then turned, staring back in shock at the scene before her.

  Three men were surrounding Arthur. All of them had daggers.

  As Bonnie watched, the fighting men closed in on Arthur. They encircled him, each clutching a blade. He had managed to draw his own weapon. He held it in his right fist, balanced and poised for action. He was clearly no stranger to warfare, but she knew no man would be able to take on three adversaries single handed. She crammed her fist into her mouth to stop from screaming as they fell on him.

  “No,” she whispered. “No!”

  She could do nothing to stop them. She had no weapon and no knowledge of how to use one, even if she had. She watched with mute horror as Arthur fell to his knees. He twitched as a dagger-cut sliced across his torso, and she saw him thrust upward, aiming for the leg of the man who did it even as another man kicked him, hard, in the side. A tear rolled down her cheek.

  “Stop!” a voice, commanding and clipped, soared over the three.

  Bonnie saw the man named Callum standing on the edge of the group. He was holding a knife as well, but loosely held at his side.

  She watched as the three men stopped. All of them looked up at him, waiting for advice. On the ground, Arthur rolled over, coughing.

  “How do you think we can get information, if we kill him now?” the man’s voice was scalding. “Have you asked yourselves that?”

  The three of them looked sheepish. Bonnie felt her gut twist in horror. She had been right. They wanted to torture them. Arthur had laughed her suspicions to foolishness, but all the time she had been correct. She took no pleasure in that fact.

  The three men stared down at Arthur, where he lay coughing on the damp dirt between them. They wore trousers and loose linen tunics, the typical dress of any soldiers or farmers in the Lowlands and Bonnie couldn’t blame Arthur for thinking they were friends.

  These men were clearly loyal to one of the Scots who favored England. Many noblemen were on the side of the invading forces – Edward had promised many of them lands in exchange for their helping him.

  “So?” Callum commanded crisply. “What do you say?”

  “That’s true, sir,” one of the men acknowledged.

  “Would I say it, were it not true?”

  A silence followed his words. Whoever Callum truly was, clearly he was a hard taskmaster. Bonnie watched as the three men stood. Two of them grabbed Arthur, who was lying on the ground. She felt too horrified to so much as blink. She watched, transfixed with shock, as they started dragging him away.

  “No,” she whispered, her senses slowly returning. She didn’t think any further, but grabbed a broomstick and gripped it. She didn’t even remember noticing it, but a part of her brain must have already scanned for weapons. It’s weight in her hands supported her.

  The men were inches away from her now and she leaned back in the shadow of the door, but nobody was even looking in that direction. It seemed as if the men had utterly forgotten about her now.

  Bonnie didn’t think about what she was going to do. As the men dragged Arthur past the doorway, she leaped out and, soundless with fury, brought the broomstick whistling down onto the head of the rearmost man.

  The blow was hard enough to make her wrists ache, but she didn’t have time to more than notice the hurt.

  “Ow! You bastard!”

  Yelling in outrage and pain, the man turned around and grabbed at her. She ducked. Her heart was beating fast now, as she realized the danger she faced. She was facing three men, all of them armed, all angry.

  “Stop it!” Callum commanded, coming out of the other barn and staring at the chaos.

  He was too late. The three men turned back to Arthur, but a second or two was all he needed. He grabbed a dagger from the man beside him. Without warning, one of them cried out as he turned and fell on the attacker before him.

  Bonnie stared in horror
as the man struck out at him with his knife, but Arthur blocked the blow with his arm and scraped the blade backward, leaving a red streak across the man’s chest. She had forgotten where she was, forgotten everything except Arthur. He looked into her eyes.

  “Run!” he screamed at Bonnie. “Get out!”

  Bonnie nodded, his words breaking her horror. Then, as Arthur grunted in pain, a man striking out at him from behind, she grabbed her broomstick and cracked it down on the enemy’s head. He went down to his knees, which was all Arthur needed to knock him sharply on the temple. The man went down.

  “Run!”

  Bonnie had no idea who had shouted it first, but then she and Arthur were running, blindly, across the path away from the farmhouse.

  Behind them, men were shouting and gesturing. Bonnie heard Callum giving furious commands, and she heard feet striking the ground as they ran to do as they were bidden. It was turning into a pursuit, a whole group of soldiers running after them.

  Bonnie fell. She felt Arthur grab her hand as she went down, hauling her upright. They ran, hands clasped, into the woods.

  “After them!” Callum screamed. “Go, man! They’re going to get away!”

  Bonnie ran, holding Arthur’s hand in her tight grip. Her heart pounded and she could taste blood in her mouth as she ran, her lungs aching and burning. Bonnie didn’t think to stop. Her whole body burned with a new urgent song.

  Run. Stay ahead of them. Far ahead. Run. Stay ahead of them…

  Her breath and blood pulsed with the cadence of it. Each breath, each heartbeat, conveyed to her the scent of pines, the feel of hard earth under her feet, the urgent need to live.

  “Run…” Arthur panted. “To the trees.”

  Bonnie could find no words to answer him, and so she simply nodded, breathing out, and ran. Her vision was blurred and her lungs hurt. After what seemed like an age, she knew she wouldn’t be able to go on for a second more. She stopped, heart pounding in her chest.

  “No more,” she panted. She looked around, fully expecting the soldiers to surround them. She couldn’t run anymore, no matter what.