by Terry Spear
Niall shook his head at the image that his falling off his horse brought to mind. Though the way his head was pounding again, he could imagine doing just that. Yet, he didn't believe she'd leave him behind to suffer. Then he considered that if he did collapse, what if Cian's men came across him? He would be a dead man.
"I wouldna fall off my horse," he said. "I was born to the saddle."
She shook her head. "Nay. You cannot go."
He began to rise, but felt so dizzy, he slumped against the mattress. She seized his arm and scowled at him. Him, a Highland warrior, who had fought many battles.
"You must stay. I will not have you die on me after I worked so hard to stitch you up." She chewed on her bottom lip. "Then again, mayhap, we can wait for Matthew to return—” Before she could say anything further, Niall cut her off.
“That willna be for two more days. 'Tis dangerous to keep the animals in your byre.”
“But you said you would leave them far from here.”
"The Murray horses, aye. Not mine and Gunnolf's. Think you I would allow Cian's men to steal them again? I will leave in the morn,” Niall said, taking her hand and squeezing it.
"Oh, Niall, you are so hot. Let me get you something to drink to cool you down." She quickly got him a tin of water. "I… I would go with you if I could."
He drank the water, then studied her expression. She looked serious.
"To look for Gunnolf," she said quickly, as if afraid Niall was thinking she might be the countess. “But I am afraid of horses. You see, once there was a squire who was thrown from his destrier during a joust. He died from head injuries suffered from the fall, the healer said.”
In disbelief, Niall stared at Anora. “How do you know of this squire? The French castle?”
She licked her lips as if in nervousness—as if she was afraid he believed her to be the French lass he needed to find. “'Twas a story, but just the same I am afraid of horses.”
Was she just making up another story? He didn't believe so.
He was thinking he should take her with him back to Craigly Castle as well—even if she was not the lass James wished him to locate. What if the locals believed she was a French spy since she seemed to have French roots?
“Sleep." She frowned at him. "And, Niall?"
"Aye, lass," he said, wiping his brow with the wet cloth, feeling as though his skin was roasting on a spit, while inside he was shivery and cold.
"Do not die on me while I… take care of some chores."
He cast her a small smile.
***
Armed with a sgian dubh sheathed at her waist hidden beneath her wool brat, Anora stalked toward Banbh, intent on learning if Gunnolf had managed to reach the village and found shelter. If she could find him and he had not been sorely wounded, she would take him back to her cottage, and then he and Niall needed to leave as soon as was possible. Without her.
They could not house their horses in her byre for very long. If Cian and his men returned, 'twould be too dangerous for Niall. And mayhap even for her, since she had misdirected them when they were attempting to hunt Niall down.
Once she reached the village, she hurried through the main road through Banbh, passing the first of the two butchers’ stalls that was already closed. When she approached the second butcher’s stall, she tried not to draw attention to herself.
Master Basil's back was to her as he nodded to his wife, who waved her finger at him and pointed at the meat he was about to carve. That was another reason why Anora didn't want to live with them. The woman nagged him before sunup to well after sundown. Anora had no plans to ever move in with the butcher and his wife.
She stalked past a mercer's table dealing in wool, the merchant hurriedly packing his goods away before nightfall. Quickening her pace, she practically ran past the hogs’ market, wrinkling her nose at the stench.
Making her way to the tavern on the other side of the village, she noticed a tall man wearing a gray hooded cloak, speaking to a merchant. When the merchant took notice of her, he pointed at her, making the other man turn to look. Her skin crawled with warning.
As they watched her, Anora said, “Good day to you, Master Burland.” She considered the stranger further. His nearly black eyes and black curly hair looked familiar somehow. “Do I know you?” Anora asked the stranger. She should have left well enough alone, but if he hadn't looked so much like someone she had known…
“You would do well to move along, take care of whatever business you have in Banbh, and return to your sheep at once,” the merchant said, his blue eyes narrowed. Master Burland grumbled something inaudible, then turned on his heels and then continued to put away his iron works.
“You seem familiar. Are you from around here?” she asked the stranger again. He shook his head. She couldn't place his shadowed face, but she was certain she had seen it somewhere before. “Good day to you then, sir,” Anora said, and hurried the rest of the way to the tavern.
She had never been concerned about visiting the village before. But ever since Niall had warned her she might be in danger, she worried—what if he spoke the truth?
Glancing back to look at the stranger, she noticed a tell-tale sword swinging at his hip under his cloak as he cut down through an alleyway nearby. A whisper of dread crept through her. The man was not dressed as one of Cian's clansmen. But he appeared to be armed like them.
She opened the door to the tavern, her eyes adjusting to the lower light inside. A smoky peat fire blazed at the hearth. Several men were seated at long wooden tables, drinking ale. Conversation filled the room until some of the men turned to see who the newcomer was, and then everyone stopped talking. She wanted to tell them to continue with their conversations, not wanting the attention.
“What do you want here?” a gruff voice said, startling Anora.
“Oh!” she said, her heart beating furiously, and turned to face Michael, the tavern keeper. His red shaggy hair and beard were in disarray as usual. “I did not hear you approach. I am looking for a man."
One red eyebrow shot up.
Her blood heated with embarrassment.
A grizzled old man with yellow teeth and a graying beard patted his lap. "Come, sit your arse down here, lassie, and you need look no further."
Several other men, young and old, laughed. "You dinna want the auld mon. Come, sit here," a younger man said, who looked like he wasn't even growing any whiskers yet.
"The man," she said, her voice lowered as she spoke to the tavern owner, "is a… well, a Viking."
This time both of Michael's brows rose. "Indeed." He folded his arms, looking stern, yet she swore a hit of amusement flickered in his dark eyes.
"Aye." She began to wring her tasseled belt between her fingers. "He… I found something of his."
"You do not say."
"Aye. I do."
"The mon's name?"
She swallowed hard. She wasn't sure if the tavern keeper would have heard the story of how Gunnolf supposedly stole Cian's horses or not. But if Gunnolf was here, he had to come with her and see to Niall. And the two had to get on their way.
She licked her suddenly very dry lips. "Gunnolf," she said very quietly.
From the tavern keeper's neutral expression, she couldn't tell if he knew him or not. But he finally tugged at his beard and said, "A pack of bloodthirsty Highlanders descended on the village, questioning everyone as to who you were and where you reside."
She barely breathed. The men who had injured Niall. But… but the tavern keeper had not told them who she was? And the villagers had not, either? Shocked, she hesitated to say anything.
And then she said, "I thank you and the others."
He grunted.
“Do you know anything of the stranger cloaked in gray wool?”
“Another foreigner, a Frenchman, inquiring about you. There are five of them, I have heard tell.”
Five Frenchman?
“About me? Whatever for?” A chill ran up her spine.
"Seems everyone is interested in the wee French lassie these days," Michael said. "Mayhap even this Viking you seek?"
"You have seen the man? Where is he? Is he all right? Uninjured?" Hope sprang anew that Niall's friend was well.
Michael shrugged. "I have heard tell of him as well. I have no idea where the mon is now. I have also heard you have a visitor."
Her whole body warmed.
"'Tis said he is a distant relation. But you have no relations in these parts."
If Cian learned of it…
"Uh, aye, but…" What could she say? Don't tell Cian or his men, should they come back to inquire further? She released the stranglehold she had on her tasseled belt and folded her arms. "He… he has hurt his back and so is staying with me until… until… well, I imagine by the time I return, he will even be gone."
The tavern keeper smiled marginally.
"He will be." She thought if she said so and the word was to get out, everyone would presume Niall had already left. She had to return to tell him Gunnolf was alive. But she wished to find the Viking herself and take him home with her. "You… you have no idea where his friend… I mean, the Viking is?"
This time Michael smiled broadly.
She could not believe how rattled she was becoming.
"Nay. I would hie yourself on home now. I have heard rumors the Highlanders might be willing to pay to learn the whereabouts of this Frenchwoman. Mayhap she should find somewhere else to stay. I have business to tend to. Off with you, lass."
Anora felt a mixture of hope and despair. She could not leave her cottage, her sheep, her livelihood behind. Even if she could, she would have to move Niall also. And in his condition, she believed it would kill him. Besides, she could not ride a horse, and she didn't think he could as sick as he was, either.
Praying no one followed her, she strode home, walking as fast as her legs could carry her.
But then she heard footfalls behind her and Anora's skin chilled as she turned and touched her sgian dubh.
A girl hurried to intercept her—'twas the tavern keeper's daughter, six and ten, Anora thought, and she took a relieved breath of air. The girl was a pretty redhead with sage green eyes and a smattering of freckles across her nose. She'd hardly ever spoken to Anora, whenever she chanced to see her in the village—which was rarely. Mayhap five or so times over the last three years. She was the same height as Anora, wearing a dull brown wool dress as she worked in the tavern, serving ale to the patrons.
What did she want? For a moment, Anora thought the girl might have word about Gunnolf's whereabouts and wished to tell her in private.
"Tesslyn," Anora said in greeting. "How now?"
"I overheard Father speaking to you. Men are looking for you," Tesslyn said, as if she knew a big secret and was dying to tell someone of it.
Anora tried hard to mask her alarm as she continued to walk home, her step never slowing. What if the men who were looking for Anora began to offer silver for the information? Would the girl tell the Highlanders or the Frenchmen where Anora lived if she had the chance?
"My father said the reason Matthew will not offer for me is that he is still interested in you."
This was not good. Anora had never thought Matthew would be seeking another girl's hand in marriage. The thought disturbed her that he might be chasing after another lass, while continuing to ask for Anora's hand in marriage. If Matthew was only Anora's friend, it would be one thing. Otherwise, she felt it dishonest of him to profess only an attraction to her.
If Anora were to begin seeing another man and found some fascination with him—which instantly brought to mind Niall, but t'was not the same as he was only here for a brief time and not pursuing her—she would have told Matthew right up front.
Anora glanced at Tesslyn. "Matthew is free to choose whoever he wishes. I have told him I am not interested in marriage."
The girl's eyes rounded. "Really." She didn't say anything for a while as she kept up with Anora's long stride.
Anora hoped that would set the girl's mind at ease. But she wondered if Tesslyn only fantasized about Matthew's notice of her or had he truly pursued her and had not told Anora?
"He does not buy you the meat from his father to give to you, you know," Tessalyn said in an irksome way.
Anora stared at the girl. Of course Matthew did. Or his father gave it to her out of generosity himself.
"Laird Callahan pays for it. 'Tis all a joke at Banbh. He did not wish his people to know he buys the poor shepherdess food to put on her table. And so Matthew takes all the credit."
Anora couldn't have been more shocked to learn the truth. But then again, she knew how tight Matthew was with his money. She thought that one day he planned to have his own shop and that's why he saved his money like he did.
"'Tis very generous of Laird Callahan to do so," Anora said.
"If he would marry you, then…"
Anora glanced at Tesslyn when she didn't say anything further.
"Laird Callahan is not marrying me," Anora finally said, when Tesslyn did not finish her statement.
Tesslyn snorted. "If someone would take you away then, Matthew would marry me. He said he would."
Anora's heart pounded with anxiousness. The threat was implied in the girl's tone of voice and in her words—"if someone would take you away then…"
Anora feared then the girl would offer information to whoever was searching for her, if she had the opportunity, and she wouldn't even need to be bribed. The notion Anora would no longer be in Tesslyn's way so she could marry Matthew would be enough of an incentive.
"But Matthew has not asked my father for my hand in marriage," the girl continued.
Again, Anora wondered if the girl had dreamed up that Matthew wanted her for a wife. Why else would he not ask her since Anora would not accept his proposal?
"We have lain together several times already. I may even now have his bairn growing inside of me." The girl smiled mischievously.
Anora's heart stuttered. Was the girl lying? How could Matthew have lain with her when he professed he wished to marry Anora?
She clenched her teeth in irritation. She didn't want Matthew for a husband, so why was she so upset over all this? Because Matthew had told her nothing of it. He had always acted as though she was the only one he was interested in. And the thought he was so dishonorable—joining with an unmarried young girl—and not asking for her hand...
Anora attempted to quash her annoyance. With the girl—who taunted her with this, and with Matthew—for being so underhanded.
"Does your father know?" Anora asked, trying to sound unconcerned.
Anora could not believe Matthew would kiss her in front of Niall when he was sleeping with Tessyln. Unless… the girl lied. Mayhap Tesslyn thought she could upset Anora into fighting with Matthew the next time he tried to see her.
"My father does not yet know. But he will soon enough." Tesslyn rubbed her belly, and Anora couldn't help looking down at her.
She saw no swelling to indicate the girl carried a bairn. "I will tell Matthew that he must do the honorable thing and ask for your father's permission to marry you." She would tell him much more than that, if she learned it was true.
"Nay," Tesslyn said, fury in her voice. "You will not speak with him further. Or… you will tell him you hate him or some such thing. For if you do not, and I learn he is still seeing you, I will let others know who the Frenchwoman is that they are seeking." Then the girl turned and ran back toward the village.
Cold chills shook Anora. She feared Tesslyn would not wait for Anora to tell Matthew to stay away or to do what was right and marry the girl. Not before Tesslyn found the Frenchmen or Cian and his men, should they return to Banbh, and told them where Anora lived.
What if Tesslyn intended to search for the Frenchmen as soon as she reached the village?
Chapter 11
Charlie barked when he saw Anora. Her heart gave a little startled jump. He bounded out of the nearby woods and ran
to intercept her. She gave him a quick hug, loving him, and realized if she had to abandon her croft, she hoped Niall understood she would not leave Charlie behind. She hastened inside the cottage and found Niall sound asleep, still feverish, muttering incoherently. She knew Niall had to leave. She had to as well, though she hated to think of that. She couldn't bear waking him while he slept so soundly.
Her heart heavy with concern for him, she had to find his tunic and mend it for him so he'd have another to wear on his journey. She dashed out to the byre and searched until she found his torn tunic hidden beneath the hay. Returning to the cottage, she lit a candle in the main room, though it was still light outside. With needle and thread, she sat down at the hearth and began to stitch the tears in the fabric, a million thoughts rushing through her mind.
She didn't wish to leave her home behind, or her sheep. She could easily defend her home, herself, and others she cared for also. So she did not think of herself as a timid soul. But traveling across lands she didn't know, with a man she didn't know very well, to a place foreign to her—she felt overwhelming trepidation. And yet, what choice did she have? 'Twas either that, or face the Frenchmen or Cian's men, and what would they do with her? At least she felt Niall was here to protect her.
Trying to concentrate on her sewing so she could get it done as quickly as possible, and then check on Niall again, she attempted not to worry about that which she had little control over.
When she finished mending his tunic, she noticed Charlie raise his head as he stared at the main door. His ears perked straight up, and then he twitched them back and forth while he listened to the sounds only he could hear. Her heart thudding, Anora set her sewing aside, then ran to retrieve a knife from her table, though she also had her sgian dubh sheathed at her waist.
Charlie turned his head toward the sleeping room. Niall stood in the entryway to the small room. His dark eyes still burned with fever, his face flushed, and he was wearing John's tunic again. Niall looked ready to collapse.
