"Where did a beggar woman learn to fight so well?", I asked myself loudly and now set about attacking in my turn.
"Who said I was a beggar woman, lad!" She hissed angrily and went into a defensive stance. I was momentarily distracted, however, as the soaking wet linen dress clung to her body like a second skin and I could see every detail of her quivering breasts.
I made a lunge and we crossed blades with each other several times without hurting each other. "In any case, you are a thief," I shouted at her between lunges. "Tell me! What do you want with the letter?"
"Curious little fellow! That a beggar woman and thief can read is beyond your little mind, isn't it? Men!" Scornfully she attacked me again. We were by now functioning like well-rehearsed duelists fighting an exhibition match.
"Then you can read," I snorted. "But why didn't you steal my purse like any devious whore would have done?"
"Now I'm a whore already?!" In a flash, the blade came at me. I had my hands full fighting it off.
"What else am I supposed to think of a little bitch who throws herself at me like a cat in heat after a few mugs of ale?"
I wanted to provoke her further and had probably hit a sensitive nerve, because hatred sparkled in her grey-green eyes. "Son of a bitch!" Now she wanted to take our little duel to a new level. She was no longer concerned with fighting me off. She wanted me dead. However, the fact that I had aroused her emotions in the process was no advantage to her. After her next thrust, I managed to worm my way past her blade and deliver a blow of my rapier pommel against the back of her head. Like a felled tree, the thief went down. She did not move again. I breathed in deeply and slowly. My whole body was shaking after the fight. I was completely out of breath. Mairead had been a serious opponent. If I had not insulted her and thus made her careless, she might even have beaten me.
I looked around the small room and came to the conclusion that this was not a dwelling house but a stable. There were some support beams, a large feeding trough and the floor was covered with hay, most of which was dry as it only dripped sporadically through the thatched roof.
Mairead lay lifeless on the floor. Had I killed her? I put a hand on her upper body. It rose slowly and rhythmically. I could even feel the little girl's heartbeat. The fact that I hadn't killed the woman reassured me greatly. Now all I had to do was look for my letter. She must have hidden it somewhere on her body. I searched her wet dress, there had to be a pocket or fold. Panicking, I realised that the document must be completely soaked by now if she was wearing it directly on her body, which I felt thoroughly, inappropriately triggering thoughts in me that could probably be considered impure, but I found no letter. Determined, I unwound her Belted Plaid, the plaid blanket she wore around her hips like a skirt, and searched that too. When I couldn't find it either, I was horrified. Where the hell was the letter? If I didn't find it, my future looked bleak.
Then, in the light of the lamp, Mairead's saddlebag caught my eye. I crawled towards the bag like a dog scenting food, flipped the flaps aside and immediately held my precious document in my hands. The seal of the Stuart King was unbroken. A beatific grin spread across my face as I heard a groan from the other side of the barn. I looked at Mairead. She was moving slightly. What could I do?
Quickly I was with her. She had not yet fully awakened. I had to act if I didn't want to find myself in a duel again. I tore the belted plaid into strips and quickly turned Mairead onto her stomach. While she slowly regained consciousness, stammering some nonsensical stuff, I tied her hands tightly behind her back. To be really sure, I wrapped the tartan several times around and between her wrists before fastening the other end of the strip to one of the support pillars of the croft. Now I tied her ankles together as well. A beast like Mairead was certainly capable of kicking properly.
When I had finished my work, I noticed that the thief had already opened her eyes and was staring at me with hostility.
"Shall we proceed?", I asked her politely.
"Proceed with what?" She played bored, but moaned slightly. "Are you going to give me another bump?"
"If you put your mind to it," I retorted coldly. "Why did you steal the letter?"
Mairead laughed hoarsely. I saw her white teeth in her bold face. Why hadn't I noticed right away how beautiful she actually was? "I felt like reading something. A few years ago our village priest read me something from the Bible and taught me the basics of writing. I guess I wanted to brush up on my knowledge a bit."
I didn't believe a word she said, even though I realised that I had once produced a similar justification for stealing a letter and had not lied about it.
"Then you would still have stolen the money," I persisted. "You may be dressed like a beggar woman and understand something of the seductive arts of a strumpet, but you are neither."
"Nor am I a strumpet!" Mairead hissed in offence.
"I believe you. Your rapier is not a cheap weapon and only rich people can buy a wheellock pistol. So let's get back to the question, what did you want with the letter? Who are you working for and why did you think my name was Richard?" I had come close to her and shouted the last words. Mairead looked at me fearfully and with wide eyes. She spoke softly. "Or else what? Or else you'll show me how evil you really are?"
The tone in her voice and the sight of her sodden dress had me instantly in unseemly arousal. Mairead recognised my weakness immediately. "Hey!" she breathed, "you don't have to be ashamed of coveting the spoils of war. It's your right as the victor." She felt the result of her whispered words against her knee. There was only chaos in my head. I wanted my answers, but the bound woman who was about to submit to me made me forget all that. I saw her pretty lips twist into a wide grin. "You tied me up, didn't you? I can't fight you, so what are you waiting for?"
Of course it smelt like a trap, but there was something in Mairead's look that I couldn't quite put my finger on. Maybe she liked being submissive, just as Lady Isabelle had always liked setting the tone.
"If you don't believe me, you can feel me to see if I'm lying," Mairead said in a whisper, her eyes half-closing. This was too much for me. I ripped open her dress and reached purposefully into her red-wooded crotch. Mairead really hadn't been lying. I felt between velvety lips the special moisture that women only secreted when they also wanted to give themselves to a man.
Mairead had now closed her eyes completely. She was sounding hoarse. Her pelvis twisted around my probing fingers. As if of my own accord, I slid into her, feeling the gentle pressure of her womanhood against my fingers, and watched spellbound as the red-haired beast satisfied herself on my hand. Helplessly, she stammered nonsensical things, then I felt her midsection spasm around my fingers and several convulsions shook Mairead. Finally her body relaxed. I could stand it no longer. Not wanting to loosen Mairead's leg cuffs, I turned her over onto her stomach, as that was the least dangerous way to go. I drove smoothly into the velvety cavern and after only a few thrusts felt my inability to delay climax any longer. So, as I had been taught, I relieved myself over the soft buttocks, the girl's back and her bound hands. I looked down and recognised a perfectly rounded bottom and the line of her vertebrae curved into a hollow back. Mairead's buttocks still pranced slightly back and forth, making it impossible for me to go limp, so I accepted the unspoken invitation and melted into my prey again. This time the act was infinitely longer and more uplifting. I felt Mairead spasm and twitch in between, berating me with filthy words I had never heard before, probably Scottish expletives. Then finally I gasped out loud, cried out to God for forgiveness and exploded so violently in her womb that I saw the stars dance before my eyes. I let go of her. Embarrassed, I withdrew my manhood from her. I sank to the side. My panting breath was slow to calm. I stood up and retreated to a dark corner of the barn. I wanted to lie down undisturbed, to close my eyes only very briefly.
Chapter 32
Something cold and smooth tried to wake me up. I closed my eyes a little tighter in annoyance so that I could continue
to indulge in my dreams, when I heard a familiar female voice: "Get up, sweetie!"
Now I was wide awake. I looked into amused grey-green eyes that were looking down at me from above. The blade of a rapier had been pressed against my neck and I could not move my hands as they had been tied behind my back. Panic rose in me as I slowly realised what a village idiot I had been. Couldn't I have just run away with the letter?
"Oh, someone's getting scared now." Mairead amused herself, grinning broadly. "Didn't expect me to get my shackles undone, did you?" Triumphantly, she showed me the rags. "It wasn't very nice to tear my Belted Plaid, by the way. If I were a man, you would pay me with your life for that insult. The clan signs are sacred!"
"What clan do you belong to?", I tried to steer the conversation in a new direction.
Abruptly, Mairead's smile collapsed and she snapped at me. "I'm asking the questions here now, lad. And then I'll decide whether to shove the pommel of my rapier up your ass or just slit your throat."
I swallowed hard, but tried to compose myself. "Hey, Mairead. After all the wonderful things we've had ..."
"You ravished me, you pig."
"Only at your invitation. Don't tell me you didn't enjoy it! I sensed something between us," I said smugly.
"Only a stupid man who thinks solely with his privates talks like that, lad. The only thing I sensed was your self-absorption."
"Don't call me lad!"
"What then?"
"My precious name is George."
"Your precious name?" she sneered. "Anyway, you see what your arrogance has gotten you, George. You are down and I am triumphant." Her grin widened. "You're the one who complained about me not taking your purse. You just couldn't grasp it. Well, to put your mind at ease, I'm not going to give it up this time. And as a little bonus, I'm also going to take your horse. When I ride it, I'll remember how you rode me." With that, she grinned wryly and gave me a kiss on the cheek. "And you were right. It really was wonderful." With that, she frivolously grabbed my crotch and put her plans into action.
"Mairead!", I yelled after her. "At least leave me the letter! Maireeead!"
But she just shook her head in annoyance as she made off with my belongings.
When I heard the sound of hooves a few moments later, I cried out in frustration. What kind of mess had I gotten myself into? I had lost everything just because I hadn't been able to control myself. Without the sexual distraction I would have been halfway to Dunnottar by now and then this. I was lost in these lands without a horse. I could only hope that a carriage would come along, heading for Edinburgh, but first of all I had to free myself from these damned shackles for once.
"George, you stupid idiot!", I cursed loudly to give air to my frustration. "Idiot, idiot, idiot!"
That's when my eyes fell on something shiny. Could it be? I slipped closer to the source of the shine, as far as I could with my hands and feet tied. Indeed! There, near the trough, the golden hilt of my rapier protruded from the mounds of straw. The edge sparkled in the light of the oil lamp. Had Mairead really forgotten it or wanted to give me a chance to escape my predicament? The thief's wry grin appeared before my eyes, all the savage insults she had hurled at me, while her gyrating pelvis had spoken a very different language. She had certainly not left my blade behind out of carelessness. She wanted me to free myself. Perhaps she even hoped to meet me again one day.
I crawled to the handle of my rapier, turned and searched the cold steel with my fingers. There it was. Cool and damn sharp. I had cut my finger, I realised. Blood dripped into the straw. I concentrated and brought the edge into the right position, perpendicular to my bonds, then moved slowly up and down like a wild boar rubbing itself against a tree. After what seemed like an endless time, I finally heard the ripping of fabric and was able to move my hands freely. I breathed a sigh of relief, looked at my wrists and realised that Mairead had tied me up with strips of fabric from her Belted Plaid. I grabbed my rapier and was now much quicker to untie my ankle cuffs. Thank God the thief had not robbed me of my clothes. At least I still had my expensive boots - further proof that the red-haired woman was no ordinary thief, but had been acting on someone's behalf. The calfskin kicks with the big spur leathers would not have been missed by any normal criminal. They were worth half a fortune at any market.
I wrapped some of the tartan around my bleeding hand and sheathed the sword. Then I went out through the low door to leave this place of shame. The rain had stopped as quickly as it had begun. The cold night sky spread over me and a stiff breeze still blew in from the sea. In the moonlight I could see very clearly the hoof prints of my faithful horse, which Mairead had stolen from me. Her own mount lay shot in the dirt. The gleam of the stars was reflected in its staring eyes. Wistfully I had to think back to André de Bellegarde, who had found his death in the very same way. What I would give to have this magnificent animal here with me now! The snow-white stallion would carry me like the wind to Aberdeenshire and surely make me the winner of the third test.
I shook my head in frustration, trying to get rid of these useless thoughts. What was the point? I had manoeuvred myself into the dilemma, now I had to see how to get out of it. After all, I still had my rapier and was only marginally injured. With a bit of luck, I could still be the first to arrive in Dunnottar. So I followed the muddy road and the unmistakable hoof prints northwards. I left the valley bottom and soon found myself back on the ridge of the cliff. The wind was much stronger here. I wrapped myself in my coat for some warmth and took off my hat so it wouldn't fly off my head. I followed the road with difficulty, constantly having to brace myself against the wind, which made my path difficult like an invisible wall. Towards morning, the wind died down. I was approaching the village of Eyemouth, or so it had said on my map, now in my saddlebags, up and away with Mairead. How I was to reach Dunnottar without a map was still not entirely clear to me, but I was comparatively unconcerned about that. I could ask my way and in the end it was always north. The lack of money and the loss of the mount weighed much more heavily. I was already considering whether I should sell my rapier in exchange for a horse, but I balked at the thought of having to give away my gloriously acquired weapon.
The terrain fell away. I entered a lushly wooded river landscape. The road ran alongside a bog from which the dead remains of huge trees protruded by the dozen. The trunks were lime-coloured to white. Hundreds of black birds perched on the dead branches of the once proud tree giants. Thick mist soon enveloped me. It felt cold, damp and clammy. Although I walked out without effort, I was soon soaked through, as if I were sweating after physical feats. This unpleasant feeling was now joined by the sound of horses' hooves. I cocked my ears.
"Look who's here," sneered a voice above me. "I actually see a dirty traitor!"
I turned around, startled, and now recognised two horses emerging from the mist. Richard and Amos were sitting on the animals' backs. Both looked at me contemptuously. Amos now asked with feigned sympathy, "Have you lost your horse, George?"
"Well, it's such a silly story ...", I said a little cautiously.
"Keep it to yourself!", Richard now snarled at me. In his brown eyes I could see nothing but sheer contempt. "All that comes out of your mouth are lies. You betrayed and sold us to shine yourself as a great hero."
"But ... but Richard!"
"I don't want to hear anything from you. All your nonsense about pride and honour. You really are the very worst. See how you crawl to Dunnottar! We're done with you." At this he turned away proudly.
"But guys, at least I left you your saddlebags and your money. You must recognise that."
"We do," Amos now spoke nobly from his high horse, "and so we leave you your life in return. After all, we could use the money to buy back the horses you sold to the merchant in Alconbury." He turned away and gave his horse the heels. Richard gave me another disgusted look, then did the same.
"Richard, dammit!", I shouted after him. "There's someone after you. Be careful!"
I didn't even know why I had done that. Actually, I was just angry and frustrated, but I also felt Richard deserved a chance to get away from his henchmen or his henchwoman. Yes, I felt guilty and somehow tried to make up for what I had done to them. After all, I had failed all along the line. If we had stuck to the original plan, I would now be sitting on my horse next to them. Only my selfishness had destroyed everything. Full of self-loathing, I trotted further down the road when I heard sounds again in front of me. It was Richard trotting back. He looked at me with a sneer. "I forgot something." Then he turned his horse right in front of me and gave me a sneaky kick to the head with his boot. I went down. Burning pain paralysed my face. Blood was pouring out of my lower lip.
"Richard, you fucking bastard!", I shouted.
"Yes, that's my name," he laughed meanly. "And now we're even, old friend."
I struggled to get back to my feet. My former crony had already been swallowed up by the fog. Anger rose in me. I had tried to warn him and he had nothing better to do than trample me down like a mangy street dog? I was deeply offended. The raging torment in my skull didn't make it any better.
"Richard, you goddamn son of a bitch," I whined into the fog. "Why don't you go to hell and take Amos with you right now?"
A bell-like laugh was all that rang out to me. Then the sounds died away and I was alone again.
Humiliated and frustrated, I walked down the muddy road until, after a small eternity, I heard sounds again. This time, however, it was not the clatter of hooves. The sound did not come from the mist in front of me, but from behind my back. It was the hee-haw of a donkey.
The Caledonian Race: A Pulp Adventure (George Glen Series Book 2) Page 19