Taming a Highland Stallion: A Scottish Medieval Historical Romance (Beasts Of The Highlands Book 8)

by Alisa Adams

  Before he could do no more than that, Gillis had the round top of a barrel in both hands. She flung it at him, sending the big, wooden disc flying into his abdomen.

  Gaufid bent over with a whoosh of breath, holding his stomach. He stumbled forward, towards her, looking up at her with a stunned, surprised look on his face.

  “Whot did ye dae that for?” he said in an angry groan.

  Gillis blinked a few times. “I thought ye were going tae attack me,” she stated firmly. She shrugged when he groaned again and coughed a few times. “Well, it certainly looked that way,” she said unapologetically.

  She glanced over to see Ingelram and Pilop staring at her with their mouths open. Their eyes widened as they looked at Gaufid.

  Gillis glanced back at the huge man. Oh dear… she thought as she watched Gaufid straighten back up to his full height. The man is certainly unusually tall, she realized as she had to look up at him now that he was standing closer to her.

  Gaufid looked down at her sternly. “If ye are goin’ tae throw a targe shield at someone, ye aim for his neck or his head,” he said firmly with a nod as he pointed to his own neck and head.

  He grabbed her throwing arm and thrust the wooden barrel top back into her hands.

  “Ye throw it like this,” he said as he moved her hand and wrist, indeed her whole arm in one fluid motion.

  Then he let go of her and took several steps back away from her.

  “Now then. Again!” His voice brooked no argument.

  She stood there, frozen in shock, her mouth open as she looked at him.

  “Again, I said!” he shouted at her.

  Gillis jumped. She closed her mouth. “Ye want me tae throw it at ye again?” she said incredulously.

  “Aye,” Gaufid said as he beat his chest. “Or ye could aim for them two manure-covered, bowfin, boggin, idjuts,” he said with a broad smile.

  Pilop and Ingelram scurried back behind a stall.

  “Mr. Gaufid, I shall not throw the wooden barrel lid back at ye again. I mistook yer movement for ye moving forward tae attack me.”

  Gaufid tilted his head sideways as he studied her. Then he snarled, bent his head forward, and began to charge like a bull.

  Straight at her.

  Gillis had no choice. She reacted just as her cousins, the four Ross sisters of Fionnaghal, had taught her. Her cousins were well-known warriors for the Black Watch and experts in many weapons.

  Gillis flung the wooden barrel lid like a targe shield.

  Right at Gaufid’s head.

  The big bald man went down like a stone.

  Gillis stared at him. Frozen.

  Pilop and Ingelram crept from behind the stall and looked down at the big man. Then they looked at Gillis with their mouths open.

  Suddenly, Gaufid sat up. He shook his head like a dog shaking the water from its fur. Save that Gaufid had no fur, nor did he have hair on his head. Then he slapped both hands on his knees, threw his head back, and started laughing in a deep, booming laugh.

  Ingelram and Pilop ran back behind the stall and watched him from over the top wooden rail.

  Gillis could only stare at Gaufid.

  “Ye are unhurt?” she asked him carefully.

  Gaufid kept laughing and waved a hand dismissively at her.

  “Should I try again then?” she asked with a quirk of her lips.

  Gaufid laughed even harder. He stood up and dusted the back of his kilt off and then wiped off each shoulder as his laughter began to die down.

  Gillis crossed her arms as she looked at him. She tapped her toes, waiting impatiently for his laughter to fully stop.

  Finally, he looked at her with a huge grin. He took one step forward and patted her once on the top of her shoulder with his big hand.

  “I like ye,” he stated firmly as he smiled down at her.

  “Well!” Gillis winced at the weight of his big hand as it landed on her shoulder. She did not know what to say. “Are ye my guard then? Was that a test?”

  Gaufid tilted his head once again and looked at her quizzically. “Do ye need a guard?”

  Gillis nodded her head. “Aye, Laird MacLeod said he would send one.”

  “Why?” he asked, and rubbed the red mark from the barrel lid she had thrown at him.

  Pilop came out from behind the stall. “Because of Mr. Nisbit,” he said importantly.

  Ingelram came out and stood beside Pilop. He nodded rapidly.

  Gaufid looked at the two filthy men. Then back at Gillis.

  Ingelram spoke up. “Mr. Nisbit, he was the doctor that killed himself because he couldnae save the laird’s favorite horse.”

  Gaufid turned to look at Ingelram. He grunted.

  Ingelram nodded even more fervently.

  Gaufid looked back at Gillis. He looked her up and down, noting her apron and the medical instruments in the pockets. He tilted his head again. “Ye have healingl tools in yer pockets,” he stated.

  “Aye, I am a healer,” Gillis said firmly. “An animal healer.”

  “Ye are a lass,” Gaufid said and started laughing again.

  Gillis rolled her eyes and gritted her teeth. She bent down and picked up the wooden barrel lid on the floor and held it meaningfully as she stared with an arched brow at Gaufid.

  He noticed and held out one hand, palm forward at her while his other hand clutched his stomach.

  “Ye are a healer?” he said. “A doctor?” he wheezed with laughter.

  “I am,” Gillis stated unequivocally.

  Gaufid stopped laughing suddenly and looked at her. He shoved his hand at her, and pointed to his thumb with his other hand. “I have me a turrible splinter that has been there for days. Can ye get it out without hurting me?” he demanded.

  Gillis tried not to laugh. “Ye were on a criminal ship for years, I am sure ye are hardened tae much worse than a splinter in one of yer fingers,” she stated.

  “It hurts,” he repeated with his mouth turning downward.

  Gillis grabbed his thumb none too gently and pulled him toward her. “Really? A splinter is it?” she said as she bent over his thumb to study it. “A big warrior like ye has a splinter that hurts ye? I find that hard tae believe,” she murmured as she inspected his thumb.

  He bent his head down and looked at his thumb as she was doing. He whispered, “Sometimes ye do harden tae pain, and sometimes ye take sae much that ye cannae take it anymore.”

  Gillis looked up at him.

  He would not meet her eyes.

  “I am sorry,” she whispered as she looked at the fearsome, bald-headed warrior with the green marks on his head. She held his large hand gently in both of hers.

  He shrugged his huge shoulders and shook his head as he glanced at Ingelram and Pilop.

  Gillis watched as his face pinkened and she realized that he did not want the two men watching to know his feelings.

  She leaned in and whispered very quietly. “I shall be vera careful with yer thumb, Mr. Gaufid, I promise ye.”

  Gaufid looked down at her and nodded once as his lips settled into firm lines.

  “Are ye gaunnie cut me thumb open?” he said softly.

  Gillis looked at the pad of his thumb. She reached into the pockets of her apron.

  Gaufid felt her pressing here and there on his thumb. He would not look.

  “I hurt ye with the barrel lid, didnae I?” she asked curiously.

  “Aye,” he said quietly, “but of course ’tis not the same.”

  “I have thrown a targe shield before, Mr. Gaufid,” she said nonchalantly as she pressed on his thumb. She began to tell him a story of meeting some men in the woods with her friend Kaithria and how she had knocked a man out with an ancient targe.

  Gaufid made a rusty humming noise from deep within his chest. “Ye are a warrior then.” He nodded once. Satisfied.

  Gillis breathed out as she looked up at his face. “’Tis vera infected, Mr. Gaufid,” she whispered. “’Tis why it hurts sae.”

  Gaufi
d kept his head turned away as he winced. “Aye, it hurts like a mhac na galla, I can tell ye,” he whispered back.

  “Mhac na galla?” she repeated.

  “Son of a—” Gaufid started to explain as he kept his head turned away.

  “I understand!” she said quickly.

  Gaufid chuckled once and started to turn back to her.

  “Dinnae look!” she said hastily.

  Gaufid quickly looked away.

  After a few moments Gillis patted his shoulder. “There now. Did I hurt ye?” Gillis asked quietly.

  Gaufid turned back to her with a startled look on his face. “Whot?”

  She smiled up at the fierce man. “’Tis over. The splinter is out. So is the puss. ’Tis bleeding now but that is good. Ye need to wash it well and keep it covered,” she rattled on before she realized that his face had gone white.

  Before she could do anything, he had fainted and fell backwards onto the floor like a big, tall, stiff tree.

  Pilop and Ingelram came forward and looked down at him.

  Pilop whispered without taking his one good eye off the giant man, “Didnae he say it was just a splinter?”

  Gillis made her face very serious. “Och, nay, ’twas a vera, vera terrible battle injury. He almost lost his thumb I fear, trying tae brave out the horrid, ghastly pain of it.” She tsked and shook her head. “Such a brave man.”

  “But—” Ingelram started to ask more.

  Gillis held up her hand. “Ask me not tae lie and I’ll question you not.”

  6

  “’Tis ‘ask no questions and I’ll tell ye no lies,’” came a deep voice.

  Gillis whirled towards the door to see Rane MacLeod standing there, looking down at Gaufid where he was out cold on the floor. He came forward and stepped over the big man.

  “What happened here?” he asked in a low growl as he stared down at Gillis.

  Gillis noticed that behind him was a slender lad in leather trews with a leather apron over his shirt and a baggy, woolen tam covering his head and shadowing his face. He was peeking around Rane with wide, curious eyes.

  Gillis opened her mouth to speak but before she could get a word out, Ingelram spoke up.

  “Laird, I was a witness. First, she hit Gaufid in the stomach.”

  Pilop fixed his one good eye on his laird as his companion spoke. He made a striking motion at his own stomach. Then Pilop quickly added, “He was going tae charge at her.” Pilop squinted and frowned at his friend.

  Ingelram frowned back at Pilop and looked back at the laird. “Then she hit him in the head.”

  “But he told her tae,” Pilop said.

  Ingelram thwacked Pilop on his arm.

  Pilop rubbed his shoulder where Ingelram had bumped him. “’Tis true. He did tell her tae, but then he did try tae charge at her that time.”

  “Knocked him out cold,” Ingelram said with some awe.

  “Then she did something tae his thumb and he fell flat on the floor. Right there where he lays now,” Pilop said with wonder.

  Rane looked incredulously between the two men. “Ye saw all this?” he said in disbelief.

  Ingelram and Pilop shuffled their feet. They would not meet their laird’s eyes. “Weel noo, we were there, behind that stall, looking over.”

  “Aye, we felt the need tae stay safe,” Ingelram added.

  Rane looked at them. “Safe from Lady Gillis?” he asked.

  Pilop and Ingelram looked at Rane MacLeod and then at Gillis. They smiled sheepishly.

  “We finished the stalls, Laird MacLeod,” Pilop said effusively, changing the subject.

  Rane raised an eyebrow at the short man. “Didnae ye start them yesterday?” He sighed. “They need tae be done daily.”

  Ingelram looked astounded. He looked at Pilop, who was glaring back at him. He punched Pilop in the arm.

  Pilop squeaked and held his arm as he glared with one eye back at Ingelram.

  “Go ahead,” Ingelram said as he offered his arm to Pilop. “Ye’ll feel better. Ye were right, after all. One day to get it done!”

  Pilop nodded and balled his fist and punched Ingelram in the arm.

  Ingelram smiled cockily at Pilop's weak attempt. He was about to chide Pilop but he heard his laird’s low growl of anger.

  Rane put his fists on his hips. “Out! Now!” He watched the two men scurry out, then looked at Gaufid, still out on the floor. He turned slowly back to Gillis with an arched brow.

  “Well?”

  Gillis shrugged. “I have no more tae tell ye,” she said calmly, as her lips threatened to tilt up into a grin. She knew she had used his own words back at him.

  He raised one brow at her and waited.

  She crossed her arms. Raised one eyebrow. And waited.

  They stared at one another, neither giving in.

  “How does it feel?” she asked quietly.

  Both of Rane's brows furrowed. “How does what feel?” he asked.

  “Tae be stared down instead of having yer question answered,” she quietly quipped back at him.

  The young lad behind Laird MacLeod took that moment to come out from behind the laird and looked back and forth between the two of them.

  “Excuse me, I am here to help the healer...” he said doubtfully as he looked at the two stubborn-faced people staring at one another.

  Gaufid let out a cough and sat up. He looked around and shook his great, shiny bald head.

  Rane kept his eyes on Gillis. “Ye fainted again, Gaufid,” he said curtly to the huge warrior as he held Gillis’s eyes.

  Gaufid stood up and dusted himself off.

  Gillis's lips threatened to smile. “’Twas the puss and the blood,” she whispered to Rane.

  Rane blinked, his eyes slid to Gaufid then back to Gillis. “The horses?” he whispered fearfully.

  Gillis read the worry and fear in his eyes. “Nay, nay!” she said hastily, not wanting to be the cause of this man’s worry. She had never met a man that cared this deeply for an entire herd of horses, not just his own horse.

  She leaned in and whispered conspiratorially. “I removed a splinter from his thumb. ’Twas infected,” she said with a nod.

  Rane was silent as his shoulders visibly relaxed the tension he had been holding there. He smiled slightly at Gillis. “He is afraid of blood,” he whispered back to her. Then he called out over his shoulder to Gaufid, “Do not look at yer thumb, Gaufid! I have about used up the sleeves of all my shirts each time ye get hurt. Wrapping yer wounds so that ye cannae see yer injury with yer own eyes and faint again. I cannae have yer big body dropping like a stiff oak tree on some unsuspecting person.” He grinned crookedly at Gillis as he reached up and tore part of his already-tattered sleeve off at his bicep. “Here, Gaufid. Wrap yer thumb in this. Or have the doctor here do it for ye.” Rane winked at Gillis.

  Gillis was stunned. Something inside her had jumped and sizzled to life when this man had grinned crookedly at her with white, even teeth, and then winked at her with his deep, dark eyes as they crinkled with mirth at the edges. Or maybe it had happened when he considerately tore the rest of his sleeve off at his most perfectly shaped, beautifully muscled, tanned and sweaty, glorious bicep for a wrap on another man’s wound so that the man would not see his wound and faint.

  Nay, it was all of that. She had been struck to her very core, for the first time in her life. By a man.

  Laird Rane MacLeod was devastating to her senses.

  Gaufid came over to stand beside Gillis. He did not look at her. He raised his chin and studied the ceiling of the stable as he handed her the scrap of linen that Rane had tossed at him. Gaufid then held his thumb up.

  Gillis pursed her lips together as she silently wrapped the cloth around his thumb.

  Rane ran his hand through his dark hair as he studied the floor to hide his smile. When Gillis was finished, he wiped the grin off his face and looked at Gaufid.

  “She is done, Gaufid. ’Tis safe tae look now,” he said quietly.


  Gaufid nodded seriously. “I dinnae need tae look. She is a fine healer.” He clapped his hand down on Gillis’s shoulder and patted her awkwardly. “I like her. I am keeping her,” he declared.

  Gillis winced at the weight of his huge hand once again on her shoulder.

  Rane glared at Gaufid and stepped between Gillis and the bald man. He stared angrily at Gaufid with his back to Gillis.

  Gillis tried to move around Rane to say something to Gaufid, but Rane met every move with a step of his own, blocking her from Gaufid, without ever taking his eyes off of the man.

  Gaufid let out a booming laugh. “So ’tis like that is it, Brother?” he said with a bow of his head to Rane.

  “I have work tae do.” Gillis said impatiently. Both men were oblivious to her, however. They were both too intent on glaring at each other.

  Gillis looked from the two big men to the young lad that had waited quietly and politely. Then she looked again. She quickly looked away and cleared her throat. “I am happy for yer help.” She nodded in his direction. “Will ye follow me this way to our first patient?”

  Gillis looked back at Rane and Gaufid curiously. Shaking her head, she walked away from the two very large, very imposing men.

  She did not hear Gaufid’s words to Rane. “You could get her killed, big brother,” Gaufid said in a clipped voice.

  “I wilnae,” Rane growled back.

  “If she doesnae want you, she is mine,” Gaufid said firmly.

  “Nay, little brother,” Rane snarled. “I am keeping her.”

  7

  Gillis efficiently washed her hands in a bowl of clean water from the large bucket that had been brought in. It was still cooling from being boiled before it was brought to the stable. She motioned for the young lad in the leather trews to do the same.

  She watched him silently while he pushed his sleeves up and washed his hands thoroughly, just as she had.

  Gillis noted his slender arms, his fine, long-fingered hands. She lowered her head to try to get a better look at his face, but all she saw was smudges of dirt.

  “What is yer name?” Gillis asked with an easy calm.

  The boy did not look up; instead, he became even more intent on scrubbing his hands, bending his head down even lower. “I am Ari, milady. I am the saddler.”