Smiling, he offered a small piece of meat to the girl. She hesitated as if not sure she should trust him. Seeing her freeze motionless, he held it closer to her lips. "Now, lass, I—" Suddenly her lips parted and she snatched the morsel with her teeth, along with one of his fingers.
"Ow! Do not eat my fingers as well. I have grown attached to them."
Gavin heard Calum chuckle. His cousin sat cross-legged by the fire eating rabbit meat from the tip of his dagger. "Ye could put the meat on the end of yer dirk if ye're afraid of losin' a finger. Or do ye think she would bite off yer blade as well?"
Gavin shook his head with a grin. "I do not dare let her near my dirk. She is dangerous enough with a rock and her teeth."
Calum rubbed the large bruise on the side of his head. "Aye, 'tis right ye are about that. Perhaps with a wee bit of food inside her, she will calm down and yer fingers willna be in peril."
Gavin held out another bite of meat making sure it extended past the end of his fingers. No sense inviting the lass to bite him again. He watched as she hesitated, then leaned forward and took the food from his hand. Her lips brushed his fingers with a soft touch, leaving them tingling.
He looked down at his fingers but naught appeared different. So why the strange feeling when her lips touched him? 'Twas almost as if he felt a kinship with the poor lass. He looked at her bedraggled form and remembered the way she had attacked them.
She had looked more like a bogie from a bairn's nightmare than a grown lass. He shook his head at his own foolishness. "Och, man," he muttered to himself. "Keep thinking that way and next you'll be seeing faeries and pixies behind every tree."
Within minutes, the woman had eaten all of the meat he offered her and sipped some wine from his jerkin. She sat slumped against the tree behind her with her long lashes drooping over her dirty cheeks.
Gavin left her leaning against the tree and joined his cousin beside the fire. He ate several pieces of meat and drank some wine, then sat and watched the woman again.
Calum swallowed a few more bites of rabbit along with several healthy swigs from his wine jerkin then spread a tartan out on the ground. He glanced over at Gavin. "Do ye need help with the lass?"
"No. She seems all but asleep. I will put down a plaid for her then take the first watch." Gavin walked over to his saddlebag, pulled out an extra tartan and stretched it out on the ground a few feet from the fire. He walked over to her and said, "Come lass, you can rest here for the night." When the rough clad woman started at his voice and stayed where she was, he frowned. Could it be that she did not speak Gaelic?
Gently, he reached down and drew her to her feet. She stiffened at his touch and seemed reluctant to follow him. When he motioned for her to lie down on his plaid, she resisted. All at once, she began to scream. The forest rang with her screeches as she strained to pull away from him. At the end of an ear-piercing wail, the woman cried out, "Nay!" and broke away from him. Running to a nearby tree, she threw her arms around it and clung tightly, refusing to go near his tartan.
Calum hurried over. "Wait, Gavin. Did ye hear her speak?"
Both men watched her intently but she only gripped the small tree and screeched like a mountain cat.
Shaking his head, Calum said, "Perhaps not. Ye may as well let her be. I dinna think the lass understands your meanin'. I daresay she believes ye mean to take yer pleasure with her. Och, dinna force her to sleep there on yer plaid. Let her rest where she is. She's frightened enough. Nay need to scare her more."
Gavin ran a hand through his hair and scowled fiercely. "God's blood. Surely she does not think I mean to force myself upon her. I offer my protection, not seduction!"
"Ye have nay cause to bare yer teeth at me. I didna accuse ye. 'Tis the lass who doesna know ye for a softhearted mon. Walk away and I will give her the plaid. I dinna think she will take it from ye right now."
Calum bent, picked up the large piece of fabric and slowly approached the wailing woman. "Shh, lass, we willna harm ye." He laid the tartan at her feet and backed away.
Gavin watched, then nodding curtly, stomped over to the fire and sat beside it to ward off the damp chill of the night. Turning slightly, he was surprised to meet the woman's silent gaze as she clung to the tree. Not for the first time, he wished he could tell what the lass was thinking. He laid his broadsword within easy reach, then picked up a thick stick and pulled his dirk from its sheath. Sighing, he began to whittle. 'Twould be a long night.
Calum walked over to his own tartan, then lay down and wrapped it around him. "Wake me when ye wish to sleep."
Gavin nodded as his cousin closed his eyes and rolled on his side. Within a short time, muffled sounds of snoring drifted through the air.
At the sound of a soft sigh, Gavin jerked his gaze back to the woman. For several tense moments, she stood absolutely still as she clung to the tree and defiantly met his look. Then she slowly released her hold, bent down and scooped up his plaid between her bandaged hands. Clutching it to her, she retreated a few yards and sat on the ground facing him with the cloth clasped tightly against her. But weariness seemed to overtake her, for she soon lay down and closed her eyes.
The night was quiet. Stars winked from behind slowly drifting clouds carried on a gentle breeze. An owl hooted somewhere in the distance. As the hours drifted by, Gavin heard nothing more than a rustle of leaves to disturb the peace of their camp.
Eventually he stood and stretched his tired muscles. 'Twould be dawn in a few hours and he needed some sleep. Walking toward Calum to wake him to take the watch, Gavin glanced again at the woman. She was curled up in a ball like an innocent babe with his plaid pressed to her chest.
When he saw her shiver in her sleep as a breeze fluttered the covering around her face, the defenseless image touched his heart. What was a lass doing out here alone and unprepared for the elements? He drew his tartan a little closer about his shoulders, glad of the thick woolen MacPherson plaid across his back. The pre dawn chill of the forest was nothing new to him. He always traveled prepared for it.
Walking over to the woman, he gently pulled the tartan from her grasp and opened it. But just as he began to tuck the plaid under her chin, she awakened with a startled shriek and scrambled to her feet.
Calum woke at the sound and stood up, rubbing his eyes. Gavin watched as the woman scurried over to Calum as if entreating his protection. She did not speak, but no words were necessary. 'Twas obvious the lass did not trust him. In fact, she still suspected him of meaning ill by her. The thought bothered Gavin more than he cared to admit.
Disgusted, he scowled at his cousin. "Since the lass has chosen you as her protector, I will not trouble myself with her welfare again. You can see to her, and welcome. I do not need a bedraggled looking banshee clinging to me."
He glanced upward at the graying sky. "'Twill be dawn soon. No need to try to sleep now. Break your fast with her if you wish. As soon as I have readied the horses to ride, we will leave. I do not wish to spend another night in the woods with that one. I mean to reach Kirkholm by nightfall."
Calum frowned in return. "Do ye no mean to bring her along with us? It doesna seem right, leavin' her to fend for herself."
Gavin tossed the tartan at him. "Of course we will bring her. I would not leave a woman unprotected." A strange irritation gnawed at him as he saw to the horses. His cousin knew him better than that. Never had he treated a maid cruelly. Even as looby as this one was, he would never leave her alone in the forest.
Gavin looked back at the strange lass and watched as she docilely ate pieces of bannock from Calum's hand. 'Twould seem his cousin was in no danger of her bite. Why was he alone privy to such treatment? Och, but he would be glad to return home. There at least Meggie treated him sweetly.
Yanking a water pouch from his pack, he turned toward the burn they had passed earlier, calling back over his shoulder as he went. "Calum, see the lass is ready to ride when I return. You two can finish your feast some other time."
His words must have fri
ghtened the woman, for no sooner had he said them, than he saw her dash toward the cover of the trees. She was across the clearing before he realized her intent.
Gavin tossed the water pouch down in disgust and ran after her. With a few quick strides, he caught her and pinned her arms to her sides. "You try my patience, lass. I have said you will go with us and so you shall."
Leading her to the pack animal, Gavin easily lifted her to its back. She weighed nothing. How could such a frail lass be so strong-minded? And why did she distrust them so? He walked over and retrieved the water pouch, then nodded to his cousin. "See that she does not escape. If she tries, tie her feet beneath the beast's belly."
It had only taken a few minutes, but as Gavin tied the bulging water pouch to his saddle, he noticed several of the bundles from the pony had been moved to their horses. 'Twas obvious his cousin had made space amongst the rest of the items on the pack animal for the lass to sit more comfortably. With the lighter load, the beast could easily carry the thin woman.
As Calum gathered up the remains of their meal, Gavin walked over to the pony to see that the lass was seated securely, but froze as she cringed away from him. The apparent distrust in her eyes stopped him in mid step. Frustration nipped at his control as Calum approached and the lass turned a beseeching gaze on his cousin. So she truly does not fear him. 'Tis just me. He glared at his cousin. "Do not just stand there. We have a long ride ahead of us."
Gavin swung into his saddle and started off, sparing only a single glance behind him. 'Twas enough. He clenched his jaws at the grin on Calum's face as he mounted his horse and took up the reins to the pack animal.
For several hours, they rode in silence. The sun rose lazily in the autumn sky, filling the forest path with dappled light and warmth. A small brown wren darted by overhead and perched on a limb. Gavin breathed deeply. The damp air laden with the smell of dew soaked soil and small plants flattened beneath their mounts' hooves filled him with a longing for home.
Later, as the sun blazed straight overhead, Gavin glanced back at the woman perched on the pony. She looked overly weary. Her thin shoulders drooped as if she were too tired to remain upright much longer. Meggie would surely bend his ear for pushing the lass beyond her strength.
Frowning, he signaled for them to stop. Calum halted alongside him holding the reins to the lass' mount along with his own. The woman sat silently on the animal's back and did not meet his gaze.
Gavin looked at his cousin. "Since I did not break my fast earlier, I will do so now. Take the lass down from the pony and let it rest from her additional weight. It was not meant to carry a full load and a rider as well."
The grin Calum gave him let him know he had not fooled him with his reason for stopping. In truth, the hardy pack animal would not even notice the woman's scant weight. Gavin continued to frown as his cousin dismounted, walked over to the woman and gently helped her to the ground.
She pointed to herself, then to a thicket of nearby trees and back to herself, with an imploring look on her face. Calum nodded, his face tinged with pink. "Och, aye, lass, ye are safe to take care of yer needs. We willna leave ye."
As if sensing an understanding between the two of them, the woman walked into the cover of the nearby trees. In a few minutes, she returned and stood close to Calum.
Frustrated, Gavin retrieved some food and drink from his pack and walked to a flat outcrop of rock near the edge of a small cliff. He sat down and began to eat. Even with wine, the bits of cold rabbit left over from the night before were hard to swallow. They sat heavy in his stomach. Och, he was weary of this traveling. 'Twould be good to set foot in Castle Kirkholm again and enjoy the tasty food prepared under Meggie's watchful eye.
Glancing back, he saw Calum gather a skin of wine along with some food and his trencher. Nodding to the lass, his cousin carried the items a short distance away and sat down.
The silent woman followed as docile as a puppy.
His cousin placed a few pieces of rabbit and a chunk of dried bannock on the wooden trencher then began to break up the food. After he had minced the meat and bread into bite sized pieces, he held out the trencher to the lass.
Clumsily, she reached out and surrounded the ends of the trencher with her cumbersome cloth-wrapped hands and lifted the edge of the small tray to her lips, tipping a tiny amount of food into her mouth. She continued to eat for several minutes before she put the empty trencher down. Licking her lips, she looked up with a weak smile.
Gavin watched her and the sight of her smile warmed his heart.
Calum held out the wineskin toward her. "Here lass, have a wee drink. 'Twill help to wash aught down and ease yer ride on yon crowded beast."
She nodded, tilted her head back and opened her mouth. His cousin gently squeezed the bag and a small stream of red wine ran between her lips. The lips that had left Gavin tingling from the slightest touch on his fingers.
Gavin swallowed against the sudden tightness in his throat and shifted uncomfortably on his rocky perch as he watched her lean toward his cousin, her lips parted eagerly for what he offered. Even her tattered appearance did naught to dispel the seductive pose.
Chuckling, Calum squeezed the wineskin again. A few drops slipped past her lips and trickled slowly down her dirt-covered chin. Without a word, the woman slowly rubbed the drops away on the back of one of her cloth-covered hands.
Gavin frowned to himself. He forced his gaze from the lass and looked down at the food on his trencher. Suddenly, the meal was unpalatable.
Still feeling that odd sense of irritation, he spoke more gruffly than he intended. "Be done with your meal. 'Tis time to resume our journey." Tossing the uneaten scraps of his food on the ground, Gavin walked back to his horse and stuffed his trencher and wineskin in his pack. He climbed into the saddle then glowered at his cousin. "Get the woman back on her mount. We do not have time to waste."
His words were met with a smirk before Calum turned back to the silent woman and said, "Ah, lass, dinna let Gavin's gruff way worry ye none. He willna harm ye. Ye are safe with both of us. Even if he does act as if he has a thistle up his—"
"Enough!" roared Gavin. "Lay off your tongue wagging and make ready to leave." He leaned forward in the saddle and prayed for patience. From his seat, Gavin watched the woman push herself up from the ground with the heels of her wrapped hands and walk over to where Calum stood, fiddling with the packs. The oaf continued to arrange and rearrange the packs and tighten the cinch, as she waited patiently for him to help her onto the animal.
Glowering at his cousin, Gavin said, "By Saint Brighid, man, do you mean to take all day?" Vaulting from his saddle, he strode over and before the lass could move, he scooped her up in his arms. By God, she weighed nothing. He sat her gently on the pony. His gaze traveled past her frightened eyes and over her slight frame. She would need food and care for quite some time before she was hale again. Even then, 'twould be too dangerous for her to venture out on her own.
Aye, he would have to find her kin and make sure they sent adequate protection to escort her home before he would allow her to leave him. Them. He meant, leave them.
Until then, the women at Kirkholm could give her some clothing and help see to her care. Perhaps he could—
"I thought ye were in a hurry," Calum's voice called down from where he sat on his mount.
Gavin quickly stepped away from the lass and looked up. How long had he been standing there gazing at her like a green lad? He had not even seen Calum mount his horse. Frowning at the insolent grin plastered on his cousin's face, Gavin mounted in silence and rode off without a backward glance.
As the afternoon wound its way toward early evening, or the gloamin' as Meggie called it, Gavin stretched his aching muscles and shifted in the saddle. Perhaps he should not insist they ride the rest of the way that eve. 'Twould do no harm to stop for one more night and travel on in the morn after the lass had rested.
As they crested a small hillock, he spotted a herd of Highland d
eer grazing in the valley below. Gavin motioned to Calum and they reined their horses to a stop. Without speaking, they each removed an arrow from their quivers and notched them in their bows. He and his cousin had done this more times than he could remember. There was no need to speak.
Silently, the lass had halted alongside them and sat perfectly still. Gavin started to warn her to stay quiet but she seemed to notice naught about her. He watched as she blinked rapidly in succession as if waking from a deep sleep, but she did not speak. He turned his gaze back to the deer below him, took aim and pulled the bowstring taut. Just as he was about to release it, the lass moved.
From the corner of his eye, he saw her kick the pony's sides, jolting it into motion. Straight across his aim.
Gavin yanked his bow upward just in time. His arrow flew up into a nearby tree and embedded in a thick branch with enough force to shake the limb.
As the lass raced rapidly downhill toward the grazing deer, she let out an ear piercing scream, startling the animals into flight.
Gavin swore and tossed his bow to Calum. He kneed his horse into a gallop and raced down the hillside after the foolish woman who had ridden directly into his arrow's path.
#
Ailis O'Brien watched the two men riding beside her. God forgive her, she wanted them dead! Pain lanced through her hands and tears welled up in her eyes as she bit back a cry. No. She must not draw their attention. She needed time to think, to plan.
Shifting her body amidst the bundles piled high on the pony, she tried to ease her sore muscles. It had been hours since their last stop. She was weary beyond belief, but the ache in her back and the blisters on in her fingers were naught compared to the pain in her heart.
She looked down at her bandaged hands. Ne'er before had she felt hunger or desperation strong enough to compel her to reach into a blazing fire for a morsel of food. Nay, she had ne'er known such despair until Da and Jenny were— Sweet Jesus, how everything had changed.
The vision of her murdered family filled her thoughts until there was room for naught else. Grief had nigh driven her mad as she searched for their killers. As if the forest knew her purpose, its trees and vines had hindered her every movement. It had taken days of wandering the forest, but she had found them. When she least expected it the devils had appeared. But her attack had failed and she was now their prisoner. Their evil plans could only be guessed, but she would not fail in her vow. They would die.
The Talisman (Heart of the Highlander Series Book 2) Page 2