“The Isle of Skye.”
“Is that where yer from?”
“Aye,” he smiled. “Tis beautiful there.”
Gale tilted her head. “What do ye do fer a livin’?” She giggled at a thought. “Goats?” The whiskey warmed her cheeks.
“No,” he grinned, “though I have some. I fish—like mos’ men in Skye.”
Gale pursed her lips. She never met anyone who fished and knew nothing about it. The thought of guts and fish odor came to mind. It seemed like a low position to her, undignified. There was nothing she could say without destroying the moment.
“Don’t like tha’ so much, heh?” Errol jested. Then his smile dropped from his face, and his green eyes swept over the sprawling landscape. “Promise me ye won’t try somethin’ like that again. I couldnae live wi’ maself if I got ye killed.”
Gale looked down at her hands. “I don’t know what comes over me.” She shook her head.
She did know. Years of being trapped in rooms and towers—years of being reprimanded and screamed at and beat into the model of perfection—years of her listening to her mother complain and drill fear into her of whatever might lower her status in the eyes of other had brought her to this point of constant judgment. She craved freedom, not only physically—but from herself as well.
“Well,” he slapped his hat against his knee and pulled it over his dark, chestnut locks, “let’s work on it.” He smiled, stood, and stretched his hand out to her.
Maybe it was the whiskey, but something washed over Gale just then as he looked up at him, grinning at her. Never in her life had anyone been so quick to forgive and accept. A corona of light splintered behind him. She feared the feelings rising in her. It’s just the whiskey. Remember who you are and who he is. Gale lifted the bottle to her lips and drank a couple quick, deep gulps.
“Whoa!” Errol pulled the bottle from her hands and laughed.
Gale stood and found the whiskey and her blood rushing to her head. Errol caught her by the forearm and steadied her. The liquor did its work and lightened her heart.
“Race you to the horses!”
She didn’t wait for a response; but ran as hard as she could, sensing him just behind her. Her blood pumped through her veins. For the first time in her life, she felt alive. Her hair was a mess. She could smell herself, and yet, in those moments racing back to her stolen horse, she could not have been happier for the world.
Errol let her win and gloat. “I don’t ken what tae think o’ ya,” he said as he lifted her gently into her saddle.
Gale shrugged. “Lead the way.” She was in too good of a mood now to let her fears and judgments cloud her joy.
The good humor faded with the whiskey. Gale’s mood changed as her stomach growled, and the hot sun brought out her sweat. She could feel the grime on her face. She could feel each ache and pain in her body and knew her temper would get her in trouble at any moment.
It felt foolish to laugh with him and gawk at him. Conversations with her mother flashed in her mind. She remembered the scorn and disgust she would speak with whenever she talked about ladies being seduced by no good low-bred men. She remembered the warnings that all they wanted was money and a good story to tell their friends.
An’ look how she turned out. Gale scoffed at the irony and hypocrisy in her mother’s words. Still, she could not discount the possibility that Errol’s patient kindness was a ruse.
Gale looked at Errol. But he doesn’t know what I’m worth. She pushed all thoughts from her mind and distracted herself with the beauty around her.
“Yer awfully quiet,” Errol said.
Gale let out a small growl and tried not to look at him. She could sense the tension rebuilding. It wasn’t what she wanted, but then again, she did not know what she wanted other than a bath and her bed and to not be in her current situation.
Errol tried his best to spark up a conversation. “Ye’ll love Skye.”
Gale saw the stars light up in his eyes as he talked. She tried her best to push down her discomfort, hold back her tongue, and just listen. Her attraction to him at that moment caught her off guard again.
“I can show ye all me secret places—places I found as a boy. An’ ye’ll love adventurin’ there. The people are hard, no’ like ye at all.” Gale shot him a warning look, and Errol laughed, “I meant—yer proud is all, an’ they’re more concerned with survival than appearances. I didnae mean it as a slight—jus’ ye can be yerself there, Anne.” He smiled.
Gale softened. Lately, she didn’t even know who she was. She wondered what he saw in her—how he could treat her with kindness after everything.
“An’ I ken fishin’ doesn’t sound enchantin’, but I promise ye, ye catch one fish, an’ yer whole perspective will change. The water is beautiful, breathtaking,” he looked off in the distance with a dreamy look, “an’ unforgiving. It’s dangerous an’ hard work, but more rewardin’ fer the soul than anythin’ else.”
“I won’t have tae,” Gale swallowed, remembering Errol’s insistence on her earning her keep, “fish, will I?”
Errol laughed, and it warmed her fluttering heart. “Don’t sound too excited now. Nae,” Errol rubbed the dark red stubble prickling his chin, “as much as I love ‘em, they’re superstitious folk. No way me men would let a woman on board.”
Gale prickled. “Ye sayin’ ye don’ think I can do it ‘cause I’m a woman?”
“No, I don’t believe any o’ that. Me mother was the strongest woman I kenned.” His eyes grew soft at the mention of his ma.
“Ye really loved her, eh?”
“With all ma heart. It seemed my world ended when she passed.” Errol rubbed the back of his neck. “Everythin’ changed then.”
Gale could see the sorrow in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Errol nodded, and the sadness disappeared behind his smile. “T’were years ago now. I think she’d like you—yer strong-willed like her. Though…” he bit his tongue.
“Though, what?”
Errol looked up at her with a nervous glance, “If ye were her daughter, she’d have nurtured the wild side I keep seein’, an’ stomped out yer temper.”
Gale’s jaw dropped. She should have been angry, but something in his voice softened the blow of his words. A part of her wished for his mother instead of her own. She would trade everything to have her mother love her the way Errol’s loved him.
They rode on in silence. Errol did not antagonize her, and Gale tried her best to keep control of her complaints. The only way she knew how to deal with the conflict rising in her was to build up walls. He was somehow making it difficult for her to hate him.
That evening, Errol guided them through a mountain pass. Gale could hear the rushing torrents of water long before they happened across the small pool bubbling beneath a waterfall. Spray misted the air and chilled the breeze sweeping through. Gale shivered in her cloak.
“Ready fer a bath?” Errol said as he stretched his arms out to help her down.
“Aye! An’ a hot fire an’ something to eat.” Gale looked around as she accepted his embrace, “Where are we goin’ to boil water?”
The sound of Errol’s laugh made her stomach tie in a knot. He did not set her down. Instead, he threw her over his shoulder and started walking over to the water. Gale screamed at the top of her lungs when she realized what he intended to do. She kicked out and cursed, coming up with whatever she could think of, even if it made no sense.
“I’m serious! Le’ me down this instant!” The panic rose to an apex as he stood on the water’s edge. Fear tore through her. Just as he unfurled her, Gale screamed at the top of her lungs, “I can’t swim!”
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Kenna Kendrick is an American based author of Historical Scottish Romance living in Austin Texas with her husband and three children. Her more than 25-year-old experience as an English Teacher has brought her close to the literary world, growing her love for fictional stories.
Her love for literature was also strong because of her father John who used to write crime-stories. While she tried following on her father's footsteps, a trip to Scotland sealed the deal for as she fell in love with the Celtic myths and the bleak Highlands.
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Taken by her Highland Enemy: He was running from his past; she was fighting for her future... Page 29