No matter what reason Jean gave for why she should stay at Balvenie Castle, William Keith ignored them all and continued with his plan to take her home with him. The last two attempts she made to convince him to leave her at Balvenie, his ire began to rise and she realized, with her own growing rage, they were headed for a terrible argument. She stuffed down her angst and turned a neutral face to him, giving him no indication of the storm that was seething inside of her, an upheaval like the worst tempests that crashed against the cliffs of Cruden Bay. She would have to control her enmity and devise some way to get back home as soon as she could. And without the new husband that Keith had already married her off to in his own mind.
She rode horseback, insisting she didn’t need a litter, letting some of her own ire leak out as she stood her ground. Surprisingly, Keith shrugged his shoulders and allowed Jean her preference on this one subject. She realized it was only because it would be easier if she just rode horseback because the men would not have to worry about a woman’s conveyance. But it mattered little to Jean why she won the argument. Her anger was illogical and she couldn’t control it. It controlled her, and for some reason it demanded she get her way at least once.
The maid who accompanied her fortunately knew how to ride too. Leslee, who knew Jean well enough to know she was not herself, stayed a little bit ahead of her. By doing so, Leslee gave Jean time to herself, plus it protected Leslee from any wrath that might inadvertently come her way. Leslee was not very far behind the two younger men who bantered and joked with each other as they followed William Keith, who led the company southeast across the green lush hills of the highlands. He set a slow pace, concerned for Jean’s comfort, but she didn’t care one way or another. What did one’s physical comfort matter if all else was already lost?
The two giants rode behind her. After the second day, they seemed to have forgotten that she was there and she overheard them as they talked. Jean hadn’t meant to eavesdrop but after a while, plodding along as they did with no other distractions, there was nothing to keep their voices from floating into her ears.
She learned from their conversation that they must be brothers. The one named Horatius talked a lot more than the other, Panahasi. Horatius seemed to become more drunk as they rode, taking frequent swallows from his wineskin. She hadn’t actually seen him imbibe, riding in front of them as she did, but his brother commented on his intake of ale, cautioning him to stop. Horatius laughed at him and paused in the middle of a sentence to drink more.
Jean sensed that Panahasi held in close check an excessive amount of animosity toward his brother, listening to the way he answered him with carefully veiled sarcasm. Horatius didn’t seem to notice it, but Jean, who her father had said had a keen ability to read people, picked up on it listening to their unguarded conversation. Horatius talked of the many deviltries they’d enjoyed over time together, laughing in a way that felt forced to Jean, perhaps trying too hard to convince himself or Panahasi that they’d had as grand of a time as he said. When Panahasi did speak, his sparse comments held disdain, Jean thought.
Jean’s eavesdropping came to a halt when another of the riders, the one named Angus MacKay, slowed his pace enough to drop back and ride alongside of Jean’s mount.
“Hello,” he said with a big grin. He flipped his head to whip his thick, long yellow hair out of his eyes.
Jean’s mouth remained straight and she returned only a restrained, “Hello.”
“Now, what kind of attitude it that?” he asked with a chuckle. “Surely you’re excited to get to the clan chief’s castle and meet his countess. Don’t you have a smile for me?”
Jean looked at him blankly and said nothing.
He chuckled again, not at all impacted by her cold response. “I bet I can get you to smile,” he said.
Jean looked ahead past him and focused on the copper red hair on the back of William Keith’s head.
“Ah, I see you’re going to be a tough one to get through to,” he said, smiling wide, completely undaunted by her brush off. “Come on, now. Smile. Smile for me. I bet you can’t keep it in any longer.”
The last thing Jean was going to do was smile. The boy was annoying at best.
One of the giants from behind her trotted his horse up along the other side of Jean’s horse. He was the one with the shimmering purple shirt, the brother with perfectly smooth skin and straight white teeth. She wasn’t sure which of the pair he was by name until she looked directly at him and saw his watery, half-lidded eyes and red nose. Even with his beautiful complexion, he clearly was the drunk one, Horatius.
His voice was syrupy and sensual when he said, “Is the young laddie bothering you, lass?” He lifted his lids all the way to eye her as though they were conspirators and sharing a private moment. Jean quickly returned her gaze to the back of William’s head.
“It’s none of your concern,” MacKay said, obviously irritated. He flipped back his long yellow hair again.
Horatius laughed, clearly mocking MacKay.
Jean kicked her horse to jump forward and get out from between the two men who were peacocking for her, as if she cared one whit what either said, did, or thought.
They left her alone then, exchanging some suppressed but heated words. Jean couldn’t hear what they said behind her, and she didn’t want to know. She pushed her horse even faster, passing Leslee, and she caught up to William.
“Laird Keith, how much longer?” she asked when he glanced at her with astonishment, like he’d forgotten she was with them.
“I said, how much farther? We’ve been at it so long now.”
“Not much,” he answered after he stifled his surprise. “Before the sun is dark we should be at Dunnottar. Are you able to continue until then?”
“Aye, that is fine,” she said. Her back side hurt like never before, but she wasn’t going to admit it. She wanted to be finished with the trek and stopping would only slow things worse. The sooner she arrived at Dunnottar, the sooner she could work out how to get back home.
NEGOTIATION
The Raid of Balvenie and the Maiden Who Survived Page 6