“Dinnae worry about it, lass.”
His clothes smelt of rainwater and leather but she could feel his warmth through the thick heavy cloth. This was the third time she was in his arms but the same feeling of safety was there, stronger even now that she was awake.
“Come on,” he muttered in her ear. “It’s time to get going.”
She was led out the Inn into the warm morning sunlight and towards the two horses waiting for them. There was a saddled dappled mare with large brown eyes standing beside a stallion Magdalene believed must have been bred for the giant Goliath.
“You ride him?” She asked incredulously, even stepping back in fear when the horse’s dark head swiveled to her.
Angus roared in laugher and reached over to pet the stallion’s ears. “Settle ye, Titan, she doesnae mean anythin’ by it. But aye, lass, I ride him. I ken he’s big, that’s why I told ye that he can carry three times our weight.”
Magdalene flinched when the horse’s head swiveled to her. “I see what ye mean.”
“Let’s get ye up,” Angus grinned while coming to help her up on the horse. She did not turn towards the mare but looked at Angus first. His large hands rested on her hips while his eyes met hers. She felt the heat of his hands and sucked in a breath when the glimmering shade of his eyes darkened to cobalt.
His eyes were mesmerizing and she inched forward. It was like a lodestone pulling metal and she was trapped in his pull. Inching further she caught herself and stepped away, in horror.
This is not right. What on earth am I thinking?
Chapter 8
A moment ago, the lass’ emerald eyes had locked on his and his gaze had locked onto her lips. She had come near him, eyes wide, cheeks warm red, and lips parted just so slightly.
Lassie, Magdalene…what’s going through yer head?
The lass had just nearly escaped an assault and her body pulsated innocence. She was unmarried, and untried, and had just escaped a fate that haunted women for years. What right had she to be looking at him with those eyes?
Then like the swift retreat of the tide, she had jerked away and her eyes were terrified. Instantly, Angus let go of her and stepped away. He was not going to move until she calmed and lost that look to run away. When her tense shoulders did drop and a contrite look was in her eyes, only then did he come closer.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t know what came over me.”
“Its…. Let’s get ye on this horse, all right?” Angus said, trying to lighten his voice that had gone rough and ragged.
She nodded with flat lips and Angus grasped her hips again, spinning her forward towards the mare so she could grasp the pommel. She might still be scared but deep satisfaction rested in Angus’ chest when he saw his clothes on her. There were miles too big but that did not matter. His clothes were on her and he pretended it meant she was his just for the moment.
After making sure she was settled, he went back to Titan and recalculated his journey. Instead of going his usual route, a very hard and dangerous one, he opted to go through flatter, easier terrain. It might make the journey longer but it was safer and less grueling.
They left the city, with shared smiles and the tension from before simmered down to almost nothing. Angus stopped once to buy some food, bread, slivers of beef, and waterskins. He was sliding a portion in Magdalene’s saddlebags when he smiled and pressed a treat into her hand.
“What this?” she asked.
“Look for yerself,” Angus grinned.
Opening her hand, she unwrapped the covering and ginger, honey, and spices met her nose. He had brought her gingerbread. A smile bloomed on her face. Looking at the man now getting on his horse, she nibbled on her lip in contemplation. How many sides are there in this man?
They rode off through the now bustling city and into the calm outskirts. Her horse had to nearly trot to keep up with Titan’s long strides and would have to canter of he sped Titan up to a trot. They stopped to fill their waterskins with water from a creek and then resumed their ride.
There was nothing around them but the sound of the horses’ hooves and Angus decided to try and distract her, “Eh, lass, dae ye ken the story of King Arthur?”
Her look to him was tentative, “I do, we all do.”
“Then you know ye’ve been lied to, aye?” Angus said pointedly.
“Beg your pardon?” she asked.
“Yer King Arthur was our King. He was a Scottish warlord named Artuir. Note ye lass, he was never a Sassenach.” Angus said pointedly.
“You lie,” she accused.
“Nay,” Angus said with a hidden grin. “Me grandfaither told me that his great-grandfaither had been a knight in Artuir’s service and fought at the battle of Badden. They had gone to England after ye English had begged for help against the northern invaders. He even said Artuir’s wife was a slave girl he had won in that battle.”
Angus continued speaking, relating the stories his grandfather had told him about his ancestor. It was enough distraction until evening came and they settled down to rest under the thick cover of interlocked trees and in a bed of soft grass.
He was unsaddling Titan when, through the corner of his eye, Angus saw Magdalene unwrap her gingerbread reverently. He pretended to be busy with the horse as she broke off a piece and ate it. He moved off to unsaddle Magdalene’s horse while she took out her portion of bread and meat. He smiled quietly and went to gather kindling for a fire.
“I still cannot believe King Arthur is Scottish,” she said with her head down.
“Aye,” Angus nodded while settling himself down and taking out his food. “He was.”
The air was getting dimmer as dusk became night and he quickly made a fire. With his sword at his feet, they spoke more until the lass drifted off. Angus watched Magdalene sleep with tender care. She was curled up on her side like a babe and he liberally admired the line of her jaw, the shape of her bow lips, and the arch of her cheekbones. What he did hate was the deep-set frown in the middle those arched brows.
He nearly reached out to smooth them out with his fingers until he realized what he was doing and stopped, mere inches from her face. He pulled away, inch by inch, until his hand rested on his lap. The same hand went up to pass over his face. “Aye, lass, what are ye doing to me?”
No offense lassie… Yer still banged up. I dinnae ken any loving Aunt of yers would like to see ye black and blue. I’d rather ye heal first.
How much more tripe could he spill? He knew it was only right to take the lass to her Aunt but he had felt…selfish. I want Magdalene to be near me as long as I can have her, not because she looks like… her… she needs a protector.
Settling his back on the tree behind him, Angus propped his broadsword between his legs and lowered his lids. He was not going to sleep, no, he could never sleep with Magdalene under his care. Not until dawn, anyway. So, he kept watching until the air lightened and the bare streaks of dawn came through the leafy canopy ahead.
The lass would not waken for another two hours or so, so he let his guard drop and allowed himself to sleep. Two hours sleep was not much but he had suffered with much less in his soldiering days. Chirpy birdsong woke him and his eyes instantly went to Magdalene, who was still slumbering. Her arm was up to her face and her fingers slightly curled at her nose. He was glad to see her frown was gone and hoped it would never return.
Suddenly, she cried out and began to thrash. Angus was up and over to her in a flash. He held her close but her arms were flailing and he had to dodge a hand clawing dangerously near his left eye. He did not want to but had no choice but to trap her hands.
“Lassie, wake up. It only a night terror. Please, lassie, open yer eyes. Whatever yer seeing, it’s nae real.”
A frantic gasp and wide, frightened eyes shot open. In fear, Magdalene pushed away from him and Angus let her go. He sat back while she gasped in a deep breath to calm herself while she pressed her hand to her eyes. Resting on his heels, Angus did not speak until s
he looked up. Her eyes were tortured and he grimaced.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbled.
“Ye dinnae have to be,” he replied. “Are ye recovered now?”
“I think so,” she said quietly.
Angus wanted to reach out and touch her but he knew she was too raw and skittish to allow him to comfort her the way he wanted to. He sat quietly as she composed herself and then Magdalene shook her head, “I’m being silly.”
“No, yer nae,” Angus said. “Ye got assaulted. ‘Tis only natural for those worries to resurface.”
Magdalene’s head was down and her sigh was one of defeat, “Will they ever go away?”
“That…” Angus sighed. “That is a hard question to answer, lassie. But I suspect they will go with time.”
She slipped to the side and curled her legs up. The low light flittering down through the canopy gave her hair a lovely shine. Her voice, however, was hollow. “I saw them again. I dreamt about them every night before but they got stronger this time. I could feel…” She faltered. “I could feel their hands on me and I…”
Her face was pale and Angus ached to reach out for her but held back. She was still not ready and as the horror of her encounter was still sinking in, she would be a far way off from allowing him to comfort her the way he wanted to. Magdalene’s breath was shuddery. “Can we…leave?”
“Dinnae ye want to eat something first?” Angus asked.
“No,” she shook her head. “I’d like to get to your home as soon as we can.”
“All right,” he replied and went to saddle the horses. While tightening a girth he kept sneaking glances at the lass.
The journey began with a stiffer silence from when they had first begun. As long it went on, Angus felt the tension abrading his skin. It was unnatural. He began speaking again, hoping that Magdalene would not object, and meandered through whatever topics came to mind. He spoke about powerful Irish Gods, mighty Scottish heroes, and solemn Welsh saints. He stole looks to Magdalene, hoping his words were not being ignored. She did not look as though they were.
“Do you know of any…” she paused, “…love stories?”
He breathed out a sigh of relief, “I ken a few but none of them are pretty. Our people don’t have much love for the, er, most delicate subjects. Stories of war victories are the most that are sent down from our ancestors.”
“Tell me the best one then,” she pressed.
“It still is nae a pretty one, lass,” Angus warned. “And it’s nae a tale many ken of. In olden times, there was a woman, Dìthean, said to be born from the Goddess of Nature, Arduinne, and had the same powers. She was fair in hair, was said to enchant any man who came near her, but she dinnae find anyone who would look past her beauty to see her heart. So, she hid deep in a forest.”
He told her how the absence of Dìthean’s presence made the woods and fruits in the forest near her to die and the people, desperate that they could not eat, asked a hag— “A witch in yer terms lass”—to find a way to get the lady back.
The hag, having gone old and crotchety, had another goal in mind. Dìthean’s tears were rumored to have healing properties, up to renewing a body to it’s youngest and healthiest state it ever had.
“The witch found a lad, Bhreac, a poor lad but tall and handsome and told him if he could get the lady out of hiding, untold riches would be his. The lad agreed and the hag gave him a charm that would lure Dìthean out into the open air where her magic would again take the land.”
Covert looks under his lashes told him that Magdalene was stealing looks towards him while managing to guide her horse. “How did that end?”
“The lad went into the middle of the forest where he was told to go and laid there. He was there from dawn to dusk and eventually drifted off to sleep. He woke when he felt someone touchin’ him and opened his eyes to see the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life. She revealed herself to be Dìthean, invited him into her home, and offered him food. To Dìthean’s surprise, the lad, instead of pressing her for her story, told her about his life and the hardships he faced in the village as he was poor. Dìthean, in sympathy, took up a rock, turned it into gold and told him to take it. He did and went back to his home.”
Angus guided Titan over a fallen log before continuing. “The lad came back the next day with a pendant he had carved for Dìthean in thanks and they began to fall in love. Weeks passed and the hag was getting angry as the lad seemed to have forgotten their agreement and was courting the goddess instead of luring her into the trap she had planned for her. All through summer, she let him have his fun while planning to destroy him if he truly did betray their agreement.”
“Why do I feel that he did?” Magdalene uttered.
Angus spared her his grimace. “The lad and Dìthean made love one night and it was said peasants woke up the next morning to find barren fruit trees laden and diamonds on the ground, fallen like hail. One day, the lad went back to the hag and told her that he was nae going to lead Dìthean into her trap and that he was breaking their bargain. The witch let him go, surprisingly calm, but when he went to Dìthean to tell her he was about to forsake his life in the village to be with her, the hag followed him.”
Another look to Magdalene was nibbling on her lip, her head forwards and slightly bowed. She looked troubled.
What is she kenning now?
“The hag followed him and just as he was to enter Dìthean’s home, she placed a spell on him. He began burning from the inside out and only the tears of Dìthean could save him. He called out and the goddess appeared. The hag forced her to cry and Dìthean did. The witch catches the tears but leaves the lad to burn alive.”
“Oh no,” Magdalene grimaced.
“Bhreac dies before her eyes, and Dìthean, who kens that the love of her life is gone, goes cold. The hag joyfully drinks the tears but what she dinnae ken was that Dìthean’s tears, if cried when she was happy, would make the charm work and restore the drinker to health and youth, but if cried in sorrow, they became acid. The witch burned to death and Dìthean was never seen again.”
They passed a good quarter of a mile before Magdalene spoke, “At least they found love before it was lost.”
“Aye,” Angus mumbled. “That they did.”
A faint noise rumbled overhead and drew Angus’ attention. He looked up, frowning. Is that thunder?
How could he have not felt the zing of lightning in the air around him? The rumbles got stronger and he began to fear not finding shelter.
“Is it going to rain?” Magdalene asked.
“Good chance, lassie,” Angus said, looking around for anything he could find to give them some shelter. The air was now beginning to zing with the threat of lightning and that made Angus spring into almost desperation. A tempest was brewing and he had to get the lassie out of it.
They were not near any town or settlement, but if they could ride faster, mayhap they could find an old abandoned barn or a countryside Inn to take cover in. “Lassie, as soon as we clear this forest, get yer horse into a gallop. We need to beat this tempest as soon as possible.”
Magdalene nodded and spurred her mare into a faster trot. The rumbles came closer and the air was smelling of rainwater, lingering above, just waiting for the merciful hand holding it back to be pulled away. They cleared the forest and Angus cursed under his breath. The best part of the sky was an ominous grey and the worst part was abysmal black.
True to her order, Magdalene spurred her horse into a gallop and Titan’s legs ate up space as they raced to beat the downpour. Angus’ head was whipping side to side, searching frantically for anything to give them a reprieve from the storm’s burgeoning showers. Finally, he spotted a building, the slanted roof had thick shrubbery crawling up its side and some of the boards were black with rot. It wasn’t ideal but it was better than soaking in the rain that had just begun to drizzle.
“There, lassie!” Angus said, pointing, and Magdalene, with one look, sped off towards the shed.
/> They jumped off their horses in the nick of time and Angus managed to shoulder the rusty door in for them. The moment they fell inside, a white lance of lightning sliced the sky in half, a thunderous boom followed on its heels, and then a rush of thick white rain battered the ground. They dragged the horses in and stared, amazed that they managed to beat the storm by mere moments.
Peering out and up at the angry sky, Angus sighed, “Ye better find some way to be comfortable, lass. This storm is nae gonna end any time soon.”
While still judging the storm, he heard shuffling from behind him. He looked over his shoulder to look at Magdalene, who was kicking old leaves from the floor to find a place to spread a blanket from her horse. Her shoulders were hunched and he went back to worrying.
The Highlander's Fiery Bride: A Steamy Scottish Historical Romance Novel Page 7