Beauty and the Barbarian

by Amy Jarecki

  Niall took it from him. “Yes, father. ’Tis a godsend.”

  He hurried back to Merrin and shielded her in the corner while she put it on. A heavy, musty old thing. She sneezed.

  “Bless you,” the friar said, standing patiently with his back turned. “Come outside with me and I’ll fetch you some food. Can you stay for Sunday service?”

  Merrin counted back. Was it Sunday?

  “Today?” Niall asked.

  “Well, yes, the locals gather just after the noon meal.”

  Merrin tied the rope sash, then pulled her hair around to the side and draped it down the front. She nudged her father. “How is this?”

  He turned, his eyes darting straight to her birthmark. “Good.” He leaned in and whispered, “Keep it hidden.”

  The friar opened the door and beckoned them with a wave of his hand.

  “Do ye have many worshipers out here?” Niall asked.

  “Nay.”

  The old gelding stood beside the friar’s horse. “Looks like ye found a friend, Mary Louise.” He dug in his saddlebag and pulled out a brick of cheese.

  Merrin’s mouth watered. She eased beside Niall, smiling. A gust of wind blew her hair straight out. Her hand flew to her neck.

  But the friar saw. He stared at her as if she were the devil himself.

  Niall grasped the cheese and pushed Merrin behind him. “Thank ye kindly.”

  Gaping, the friar pointed his finger. “She has…you brought her into a house of God?”

  Merrin cowered behind her father. He grasped her arm and headed for the gelding. “She’s a good girl. ’Tis not what ye think.”

  The friar stood his ground, his finger shaking as if he could summon the wrath of God and damnation upon them. “Ye will be punished for this! And I allowed ye to put on hallowed vestments?” He marched up to Merrin and grasped the robe.

  She clutched it tighter around her body and shook her shoulders. The old garment was doing her a lot more good than it would hanging in a musty old cupboard, feeding the moths. “Get away from me. Ye’re the one who’s evil.”

  Gar growled. In two bounds, he hurled his front paws into the friar’s side. The skinny man stumbled.

  Niall lunged in and gave him a final shove to the ground. “You, sir, are no man of the cloth to me.” He yanked Merrin’s arm. Latching onto her waist, he hurled her atop the gelding’s back. After pulling the rope from the cowering friar’s belt, he looped it around the horse’s neck and handed her the makeshift reins. He grasped the friar’s bridle.

  Merrin slapped her hand over her mouth. They couldn’t take a holy man’s horse. “No.”

  Niall glared at her. “We need two.”

  “But he’ll send his people after us.”

  Niall glowered at the friar, who recoiled on the ground, shaking his cowering fists beneath his chin. Niall pulled the dirk from his scabbard and then slid it against the man’s neck. “If ye send a soul after us, she’ll not only curse you, she’ll curse each man and all their kin with the Black Death.” He pushed the dirk hard against the friar’s throat. “Swear it.”

  The friar held up two trembling palms. “Please, do no’ kill me.”

  “I said swear it.”

  “I swear, I swear, just leave me be.”

  Niall spat on the ground beside him. “Ye’re no’ worth me time.” He swung his leg over the mare and headed off at a brisk canter.

  Merrin cued the gelding to follow. After witnessing her father’s unorthodox and unbridled ire, she had a bit of trouble lifting her chin from the horse’s neck and closing her mouth. The old nag surprisingly picked up a canter, as if he were a spring colt—quite changed from the night before. “Come, Gar.”

  Merrin had never seen her father so ferocious. Had he once been a warrior like Ian? He’d never mentioned anything the like.

  The wind blew her hair back, but she didn’t care. Hope surged through her blood. They would find Ian soon and together they would work out a plan to thwart Rewan. She knew it.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Ian opened his eyes to the call of an eagle. The sun peeked over the horizon. His stomach growled. He stretched his arms forward and winced. Everything hurt like he was a rusted jumble of hinges needing to be greased before they’d budge.

  He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and pulled himself up between the two sheltering rocks. As he suspected, he had an excellent view of the surrounding area, though he was still a good day from Eilean Donan.

  Down the slope, movement caught his eye. Two people mounted on horseback, cantering away from a stone chapel with a big dog on their heels. Ian squinted. Long, dark hair fluttered with the wind. Had Merrin and Niall found horses? Aye, and she’s found a cloak as well.

  Ian marked their course. Good, they were heading south—and at a rapid pace. While panning his gaze back past the chapel, his heart gripped like a vise. Ascending the hill from the north, four mounted men rode on a course to intercept them.

  He licked his chapped lips with a dry tongue. His gaze darted northwards to Rewan’s galley moored in the bay. Ian didn’t need a spyglass to know Rewan was one of the mounted riders. The henchman’s bloodlust ran too deep for him to lie in wait on the galley. Most likely, he’d left a crew to mind the ship.

  If Ian could take the galley, he’d have the vessel he needed to flee—mayhap go to Ireland and start anew. But not yet—not with Rewan on Merrin and Niall’s trail.

  Ian watched as Niall and Merrin slowed to a trot, a gait their horses could easily sustain. Rewan and his men stopped at the chapel. A friar ran out the doors, flailed his arms and pointed. Ian had to move fast. Dashing down the southern face of the mountain, loose gravel assisted his descent.

  Ian had a clear view of Merrin and Niall rounding the rolling foothills. From the corner of his eye, Rewan’s warriors galloped closer. Ian’s knees burned with the unrelenting downward force. Grinding his teeth, he pulled the bow from his shoulder. Nearly to his attackers, he snatched an arrow.

  Rewan’s men pushed their horses into a fast gallop. Hooves pounded the earth. Ian’s lungs burned. He crashed through the brush, scarcely aware of the thorny gorse clawing at his skin. In seconds, Rewan would round the tip of the butte and see them. Ian leapt onto a massive rock and planted his feet. He yanked back the bowstring and trained it on the nearest man. His fingers released.

  The arrow hissed over the sound of pounding horse hooves. Ian knew the line was true. Upon impact, the warrior’s body jolted and hurled through the air. Ian had another arrow lined up when the body thudded to the earth.

  “Up there!” Rewan yelled.

  Ian released. Not stopping to watch his arrow fly, he leapt from the rock and ran through the copse of spindly birch trees.

  Merrin and Niall had stopped, blast them. “Run!”

  Gar barked. Merrin locked eyes with Ian. Ballocks, why did they stop? “Run!” he hollered, louder.

  Rewan’s horse galloped around the bend with two men in its wake.

  Gar’s barking erupted in a snarling, growling savage bray. The dog bounded head on with the approaching horses.

  “No!” Merrin screamed.

  Ian barreled toward them. “Get out. Now!”

  Niall pulled on Merrin’s reins and slapped her horse’s rump. She shrieked. Ian’s heart slammed against his chest, but he couldn’t race to her now. He pulled another arrow and fell in behind Gar.

  The deerhound headed straight in line for a collision with Rewan’s bay. Gar launched himself through the air and sank his teeth into the horse’s throat. The steed careened forward. Rewan sailed. Gar held on as the horse tumbled.

  Ian released another arrow, hitting his mark dead in the heart. Somersaulting backward, the warrior crashed to the dirt. Thank God some of his arrows were straight.

  Growling, Gar held his grip on the horse’s neck.

  Rewan struggled to stand. He drew his sword from his belt. “Ye’re not slipping away this time, Raasay.” He beckoned with his fingers. “Com
e here and fight me like a man.”

  “Some other time.” That’s a promise. Ian darted up a massive boulder and took a flying leap onto the dead man’s horse. He careened to the side, but latched his fingers under the pommel to keep from falling. Ian pulled himself up and threw his torso onto the horse’s neck. He gathered the reins. “Gar, come!”

  Sliding his toes into the stirrups, Ian slammed his heels into the horse’s barrel, galloping after Merrin and Niall.

  “Arrggh!” Rewan’s frustrated war cry echoed off the mountains. Ian glanced over his shoulder—his archenemy stood, a bulky image growing smaller in the path, sword in hand. Thank God. Gar galloped on Ian’s heels, tongue lolling to one side, eyes wild as a wolf’s.

  ***

  The passing trees blocked Ian from her sight. Merrin couldn’t help her frequent glances over her shoulder. She hated being forced to run while Ian stayed behind to fight. How would he battle out of this one? Rewan had too many men—and Gar? One sweep of a sword, and her beloved dog would be dead.

  Both horses she and Niall rode were old. Her gelding kept changing his gait to a trot, raising his chin and shaking his head with agitated snorts. She’d kicked her heels until the horse became unresponsive.

  “Keep on,” Niall urged, his mare showing the same exhaustion.

  Merrin threw another look back. Tingling rippled across her skin. Ian galloped straight for them with Gar right behind. Praise God.

  Ian quickly approached. “We cannot slow down.”

  Merrin tried to kick harder. “The horses are spent.”

  Ian’s steed didn’t look much better. He frothed at the mouth, with white sweat lathered along its neck. “We need to ride a safe distance away—somewhere we can defend ourselves if need be.”

  Ian took the lead, the other horses following the younger steed. Not much time had passed when Ian’s horse stumbled. He slowed it to a walk and circled behind the others. “Rewan’s cavalry rode most of the night. Their horses need to be rested as well.”

  Niall pointed ahead. “There’s a waterfall yonder. Perhaps there’s a pool up above.”

  “Whether there is or nay, ’tis a good place to rest.”

  Merrin’s stomach growled. “I’m starved and ever so thirsty.”

  They followed Ian up a rocky slope and through the sparse wood, the ground covered with moss. At the stream, Ian dismounted and led his horse to Merrin. He reached up his arms. “Let me help ye down.”

  Her robe opened as she placed her hands on his shoulders. Her breathing stuttered when his fingers grasped her waist. She slid down his body until her toes touched ground. Merrin pulled him into her embrace and squeezed. She didn’t care if Niall balked. “I was so worried.”

  He cradled her head against his chest. His heart beat a reassuring cadence in her ear. “I couldn’t let Rewan overtake ye. Are ye all right?”

  She was breathless. “Aye.”

  Ian kissed her forehead. Needing more, Merrin raised her chin and guided his lips to hers. His kiss breathed life into her soul. She wanted Ian to hold her in his arms and never let go.

  “Ahem.” Niall cleared his throat.

  Merrin arched her brow at her father. “He could have died, Da.”

  Niall frowned as if trying to look stern. She’d seen that look a hundred times. “I’ve some rope now. We can hobble the horses and let them graze.”

  No lecture telling Ian to keep his hands to himself? Good.

  Ian pinched Merrin’s robe between his fingers. “What’s this?”

  “A friar gave it to me.” She bit her bottom lip. “Right afore he saw me scar.”

  Niall chuckled. “Then he cursed her and threw us out of God’s house.”

  “And Da cursed him back and stole the friar’s horse.”

  Ian laughed. “I was wondering where ye got the horses.”

  Merrin patted her gelding’s back. “We found this old fella last night. Took us straight to the chapel, he did.” She pulled Ian’s hand. “We’ve some cheese, and this stream looks pure.”

  “Good.” Ian crouched, splashed his face and drank. “You eat. I’ll climb the crag to see if it’s safe first.”

  Merrin ran her fingers across his shoulders. “I’d like to go with ye.” His muscles tensed beneath her touch.

  “Stay. Ye’re safer here.” He pressed her palm to his lips and stood. “I’ll no’ be long. Save a morsel for me. I could eat a salmon raw.”

  Merrin gulped a handful of water and helped Niall hobble the horses. Ample clumps of grass sprouted from the moss. They’d eat their fill in no time. Merrin massaged her gelding and ran her hands down each leg to ease his muscles. She glanced at the other two horses. Should she remove their saddles? No. They may need to make a fast getaway. The ole fella didn’t have a saddle, but Merrin preferred it that way. She liked to feel the horse’s movement beneath her.

  Niall found a fallen log and sat. He held up a slice of cheese. “Ye’d better eat. I’m guessing there’ll be no rest.”

  “Ta.” She took it and nibbled at the corner.

  “You’ve grown awfully fond of Ian.”

  Merrin broke her cheese in two and gave Gar half. “Aye.” She shrugged, hoping her father wouldn’t scold her. She held still for a moment, waiting. Fortunately, he said nothing more.

  Niall carved off another slice and popped it in his mouth. Merrin watched him. He stared at the pool of water as if deep in thought. She took a larger bite and sat beside him. She hadn’t time to appreciate the fine day. The sun shone straight above while puffy clouds floated with a gentle breeze. A brook tumbled into a small pool, just as they suspected, and the waterfall sang a relaxing lullaby.

  Merrin closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. How nice it would be to camp here for the night.

  Footsteps neared. Gar wagged his tail and Merrin looked up expectantly. Ian marched through the wood, powerful legs stretched against his kilt, his hands fisted with purpose. The hilt of the claymore jutted over his right shoulder, the bow over his left. Tall, broad and well-muscled, he formed an idyllic picture. Merrin’s chin ticked up as she watched him. It gave her great pride to be riding with Ian, to know he protected her.

  If Ian hadn’t come along, Rewan would have run them down and shown no mercy. She’d watched Ian take out two. Rewan’s numbers were dwindling. Would it come down to a fair fight between the warriors? Merrin shuddered. She hated fighting—hated the thought of Ian facing that beast of a henchman. Yes, Ian was big and strong, but his muscles were chiseled. From her glimpses of Rewan, that man was built like a bull, with a barrel chest and thick legs, which probably made him strong beyond anything she could imagine.

  Ian smiled. Blessed be, his grin lit up her insides as if the sun radiated clear through the tips of her fingers. Merrin took the cheese from Niall and held it up. “Did ye see anything?”

  Ian grasped it. “Nay, we must have caused quite a stir.” He scratched Gar behind the ears. “Ye’re an angry beast when Ye’re riled, are ye not?” The dog wagged his tail and leaned in for more. Ian rubbed the length of his back. “Merrin, ye should have told me Gar was a trained war dog.”

  “He is?” Merrin shrugged and splayed her palms. “I think it comes natural. He’s always been a lazy hound around the cottage.”

  “How did ye come to find him?”

  Niall shrugged. “Picked him up at Brochel Castle. He was eating scraps off the floor and no one laid claim, so I took him home to keep Merrin company.”

  Ian bit into the cheese. “I think he’s had some training—he looked like a bloody wolf today.” The warrior looked off into the trees, as if he could see beyond them. “We’ve made good time. I think we’ll reach Eilean Donan by nightfall.”

  “Nay.” Niall shook his head. “Merrin cannot approach a castle dressed in a friar’s robe.”

  Ian gave Merrin a studious once-over. “Well.” He scratched his chin—his beard had grown longer than Merrin had ever seen.

  It really must be itching him now.
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  “I’ll go in and explain first. I think that might be our best option. Besides, I’m the son of a chieftain—that has to account for something.”

  Merrin clamped her hand over her mark.

  “What about her neck?” Niall asked. “She lost her scarf.”

  Ian glanced across the clearing and back to Merrin. “Can ye tear a strip of cloth from your shift?”

  Merrin shrugged. “I suppose. ’Tis already ruined anyway.”

  “But ’twill be too far above her ankles,” Niall said.

  Merrin pulled the dagger from her boot. “Mayhap Ian can negotiate a new shift for me? After all, I’ve mended this one so many times, I think it has more woolen thread than flax.” She made a cut and tore, but once it hit the seam the cloth wouldn’t budge.

  “Let me.” Ian bent down and finished the job.

  Merrin glanced at Niall. Her father shook his head and rolled his eyes toward the sky.

  Ian pulled her hem down then smoothed his hand over Merrin’s robe.

  Niall stomped his foot. “Enough. You’ve had your hands on me daughter far too much for a man who has not proposed marriage.”

  Merrin’s hands flew over her mouth. How could Da be so brash?

  Ian stumbled backward, his face red. “Apologies.” He handed Merrin the cloth and straightened his shoulders. “W-we’d best ride and make good use of daylight.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Though Ian hadn’t been to Eilean Donan Castle in years, the winding path along Loch Alsh was familiar. The MacKenzie and MacLeod of Raasay clans generally were on good terms, and as a boy, he often attended gatherings when the MacKenzie chieftain visited his “lesser” estate.

  The setting sun sparkled off the saltwater loch, a tributary to the Sound of Raasay. Once things settled, it would be easy for Niall and Merrin to sail back through the loch and up the sound, straight to Fladda.

  “Are we nearly there?” Merrin asked. “The sun just dipped behind the hills. ’Tis twilight.”

  “Not far now—one more long bend in the trail, then ’tis a straight run to the castle.”