Highland Song

by Young, Christine

  After a few minutes, the temptation to look overcame her fear of discovery. Lainie slowly opened her eyes and peered carefully through the rocks and greenery that kept her hidden. The thin cry of a hawk and an eerie silence brought on by the thick fog shut out any sounds the men in front of her made.

  Jericho, Red, and three other men were still searching through the trees. Lainie smiled slightly, knowing she had won. If Red couldn’t find her tracks, no one could. The big man was a legend in these parts. He’d worked for the English army for years and rumor had it he could track anyone anywhere. The big man was as famous for his tracking abilities as he was for his savage reputation with a sword. She reminded herself, the dark-haired stranger had put all of Jericho's men to shame.

  Another hour passed before Jericho and his men gave up. By then it was almost noon, a light rain had replaced the fog and they had thoroughly trampled whatever signs Gypsy might have left. She knew she could thank the fog for her good fortune.

  Breath held in her lungs until she ached, Lainie watched Jericho’s gang mount and ride out of sight following the ravine made by the river. Then she scrambled back around the boulder and into the slight depression where she’d tethered Gypsy, who was waiting for her and munching on grass.

  "Poor girl," she whispered. "I know we’ve ridden hard and we deserve a day of rest. But with Jericho and his men looking for me, I can’t risk stopping too soon or too often. We have to keep going, at least a little while longer."

  Despite the urgency driving Lainie to reach MacPherson land, she knew she had to make camp within a few miles. Gypsy had to have rest, or she wouldn’t be able to take the long hard trail to the north into the highlands.

  Once she put the lowlands behind her and she was farther from the reach of the English soldiers and Jericho’s men, she had to find a way to get a message to her brothers. She had to let them know she was coming home and the trouble she might bring with her. She would have to tell them she had a bounty on her head.

  But right now what Lainie really needed was a man she could trust, someone who would guard her back, someone who wouldn’t hand her over to Bertram. She had spent the better part of two years sidestepping the fat English general who had raped her. Several times, he had almost caught her and somehow she’d been able to elude him and his bumbling English soldiers. Now that he’d set Jericho on her trail, she had a little more to worry about. But she didn’t think Jericho knew who she was. Robbing the man blind had been a terrible idea, and because she had handed the loot over to her companion, she had nothing to show for her efforts. On the other hand, she possessed little evidence that could convict her of any crime. The trouble was she'd kept one particularly damning document. It was an official document that had been sealed and would remain that way until she opened it and read the contents.

  Buying a man would be as impossible as buying a man’s loyalty.

  I might as well wish for a miracle than for a brawny man who would be steadfast and I could trust not to rape me. Men who don’t think with what’s below their belts don’t exist.

  Even her brothers sometimes caved into that way of thinking, although she didn’t believe either one had ever raped a woman. No, they seduced the woman into thinking the lovemaking was her idea.

  What on earth could God have been thinking when he created man?

  ~ * ~

  After Jericho quit searching, Aaron Slade snaked his way off his rocky perch high above the river and the ravine where he’d been watching everything. Immediately, he walked to where his horse and the two pack animals loaded with traveling supplies waited. His stallion’s black nostrils flared at his scent. He snorted softly and extended his muzzle to him either for carrots or a bit of rubbing.

  "Hello, there. You get lonesome while I was gone?" He spoke softly and stroked the stallion’s neck. "You're a hell of a lot more patient than I am and you’re the only creature a man can trust."

  Velvet lips whuffled over his hand, leaving a feeling of warmth.

  "Well, you’ll have company soon. Red finally gave up. Now he's seeking the comforts of a warm tavern and equally warm lass if I don’t miss my guess. We’ll be able to pick up her trail before nightfall. She won’t be going anywhere without me." He had no doubts the lass knew this country like the back of her hand. But so did he.

  Aaron climbed into the saddle, stroked the mare’s neck with his leather-clad hand, and reined the black horse toward a steep slope. Working quickly, the horse wound its way down into a trail that ran roughly parallel to the spot where Red had called the game quits.

  "Luck," Aaron muttered to his horse. "If lady luck is on our side, before breakfast we’ll see if that girl knows any tricks besides picking pockets, dancing with Satan, and setting men up to die."

  ~ * ~

  Brows furrowed together, nerves scrambled to a ragged edge despite the empty back trail, Lainie held Gypsy still and listened. She heard nothing except a terrifyingly eerie silence. The wind had even stopped rustling the leaves in the trees. Good Lord but she wanted to set the little mare to a gallop.

  Minutes passed before she turned and led Gypsy toward what she hoped would provide a small amount of shelter from the bitter cold. Luck seemed to guide her, even as she almost fell asleep in the saddle. She found a place to camp at the base of a cliff. There was shelter from the elements, a small spring set amid grass and ferns, and a view of the surrounding countryside. The fog which seemed to come and go was so dense now she couldn’t see her hand in front of her face.

  "All I need is someone to protect my back while I sleep. My own personal body guard," she murmured thoughtfully. "Too bad someone like that doesn't exist."

  Hours passed by and complete darkness settled in before Lainie finally spread her bedroll on the hard dirt. A brisk wind had swept the fog away and a slender thread of moon had just cleared the treetops.

  Loneliness burrowed deep into her, becoming a darkness in her soul. Even after she left the MacPherson castle seeking new surroundings and hoping to put the past behind her, she could not remember feeling this alone and vulnerable. Lainie tended to her horse, ate a cold supper, and fell into the meager bedroll she had put together for this last mission, never expecting to be using the threadbare blankets. She was asleep immediately, too exhausted by the sorrow and danger of the past to keep her eyes open.

  When at last the sun rose and she opened her eyes, the dark-haired stranger with the vivid green eyes and fast hands was calmly going through her saddlebags. His back turned to her, he didn’t seem to care if she knew he was rummaging through her possessions.

  Lainie’s first waking thought was that she was still asleep and this was a nightmare, because the man’s reproving eyes had haunted her sleep, making her twist and turn endlessly. She couldn't set aside the feelings of guilt either. She had pushed the limits and now it seemed she would pay the price.

  In her dreams, she had tried to get closer to the handsome stranger, hoping he might be that miracle from God. She hoped he would be the one man who would guard her at night and ride beside her during the day. Each time she was reminded of a man just like her brothers. But each time she was close enough to talk to him, she saw him don a mask as if hiding from her, then he would turn his back and walk away leaving her alone and more vulnerable than she’d ever felt before.

  She knew he was nothing like her brothers. He was a man who would take what he wanted and leave her to live with the shame.

  Now that Lainie was awake, the last thing she wanted was to get closer to the dangerous man with the vivid green eyes. She reminded herself there were few men on this earth a woman could trust. Trying for subtlety, she began to ease her hand toward the dirk she had strapped to her leg. Since the day Bertram attacked her, she had never slept without the dirk--never been without a weapon--never forgotten the horror of that day.

  Through shuttered lashes, and breath held tight in her lungs, Lainie studied the early morning intruder. She tried to keep the shudders sweeping down her spine
at bay as well as the trembling of her hands. She steadied her nerves and fought to breathe slowly, pretending sleep. She didn’t shift her position in any noticeable way. She didn’t want the man with the lightning fast hands who was so calmly rummaging through her possessions to know she was awake. She remembered all too well the deadly violence he could unleash so easily and so very quickly.

  She heard a slight whisper of noise as the man pulled his hand out of the saddlebag. Papers fell through his fingers as he dug deeper and found more of the same in the early morning light.

  The sight of the papers spread all around him and a sealed document she’d not given to the highlanders she’d been working with because she’d wanted her brother to read it sent a shiver of fear into her already ragged nerves. Yet the man intrigued her, and despite her fears, she couldn’t help but notice how tanned and powerful he was. The sight sent an odd shiver of sensation slipping into her belly. When he smoothed the crinkled parchment, sliding his fingers along the paper as though savoring the feel, another sensation rippled through her.

  Don't let this man's good looks fool you, Lainie girl. He's more dangerous and more ruthless than any man you've met, including your brothers. He’ll take what he wants and ride into the hills never looking back.

  A slight breeze shivered through the hidden camp, setting the trees to shaking tiny drops of moisture to the ground. Beneath the swaying bows, morning light retreated and returned, concealing and revealing the stranger’s features as he turned sideways to her.

  Lainie couldn’t help but stare despite her best efforts to do otherwise. She told herself he was handsome, yes, but she’d seen many men whose features would put his to shame, and she’d also seen men who terrified her, men with angry eyes and mouths eager to sneer. She reminded herself of the pain men could inflict. And she told herself there was no reason for her to find herself so attracted to this man. He was hard, his eyes were cold, and there was certainly no reason for this man to haunt her during her sleep. He was a threat to her existence, and she should keep reminding herself of that fact.

  Without the dangerous mission to distract Lainie, she was even more curious about him than she had been when she first watched him set his coat on the table inside the tavern, partially hiding his satchel, an open invitation to her nimble fingers. It was almost as if he had set a trap for her.

  ~ * ~

  Aaron turned the papers over in his hand and stuffed them inside his coat pocket. The next thing his fingers ran into in the saddlebag was a length of soft leather wrapped around something and tied with a worn leather thong. Curious, Aaron pulled out the bundle and unwrapped it. One gold button, fabric from the jacket still clinging to it, fell from the wrapping into Aaron’s palm.

  Be damned, Aaron thought. It’s a button from the uniform of an English general. Perhaps the rumors are true. The notion gave him pause.

  Carefully Aaron wrapped up the button and put it back inside the saddlebag.

  The next thing his fingers encountered was the worn dry leather of a journal. He opened it, flipped through a few pages and then understanding the significance of the writing, he closed the book, transferring it to his saddlebags.

  The rest of the contents of the girl’s saddlebag made Aaron feel frankly uneasy about his own mission. First appearances were often deceiving, but she didn’t appear to be a spy. From what he’d seen so far, she looked more to be the victim of a crime rather than the perpetrator. All that was left in her saddlebags was a boy’s jacket, a worn out white shirt, and one pair of pants. If she was Lainie MacPherson and he didn’t think he was mistaken, her family had money. She should at least have a small purse, something to get her by until she met up with her companions. It appeared to him that this woman was dirt poor.

  It was obvious she was being used by the thieves she worked with, and it was becoming increasingly apparent to Aaron that her own family had possibly disowned her. On the other hand…

  "You keep inching your hand toward that dirk," Aaron said without looking up, "and I’m going to drag you out of that bedroll and teach you how a lady should treat a guest."

  ~ * ~

  Lainie froze, stunned by his words. Until he spoke, she would have sworn the man hadn’t even known she was awake. Did he have eyes in the back of his head? “You’re no guest of mine.”

  “I am if I say I am.”

  "Who are you?" she asked with a quiet realization he was even more dangerous than she’d thought.

  "Aaron Slade." As he spoke, he stuffed most of her meager possessions back in her saddlebag. "But most folks call me Slade."

  "What do you want?" she whispered from the back of her throat. The words sounded hollow and thin to her ears.

  A few wild seconds passed while all Lainie could think of doing was bolting for the underbrush and hiding until Slade gave up and left. But some little voice in the back of her mind told her he wasn’t the kind of man who gave up and went away. So she discarded the hasty scheme.

  Slade’s personification of lazy charm no longer fooled her. One too many times she’d seen the way he moved, his hands so fast they blurred. She had no elusions that if she tried to run and hide, she wouldn’t get more than three steps from her bedroll before he caught her. She didn’t want to think what he’d do then.

  Ah, but then she knew. He would most likely teach her how to treat a guest, according to Aaron Slade.

  "You aren't my guest," she repeated, trying to make a point and hoping the man would leave.

  He ignored her for a few more seconds. "Don’t suppose you want to tell me what you plan on doing with the sealed document you stole from me?" Slade asked after a few seconds of watching her with wary green eyes.

  "The sealed document?" she asked innocently. “I dinna ken what you mean.”

  "Papers with the King's seal stamped on them," he said, seeming to loose patience.

  "Papers? Lainie asked again, breathing slowly, trying to asses the situation she’d fallen into. "I don’t know anything about sealed documents." She lied.

  "You stole them from the tavern, and if I’m right, you plan on using them for something," Slade said, shooting her a look out of eyes like green ice. "That could be construed as treason."

  "No--'tis not treason. I’m Scottish. My family pledges its loyalty to the Scottish King James."

  Slade laughed.

  It was a cold sound.

  "Sure, wee fox," he said mockingly, "you didn’t steal the papers. They just jumped up and slid into your nimble fingers, begging you to take them from my satchel."

  "You set a trap."

  He smiled but made no confession.

  Fear swept through Lainie driving out the strange feelings that had disturbed her since she had seen him run his hands over the papers in the saddlebags. She had only one document with her that could convict her of any crimes. He had already found it, and he'd stuffed the papers into is coat pocket. With the surge of fear, there came a withdrawing of prudence. Once again, her hand eased toward the dirk that lay strapped to her leg.

  "Actually, I had hoped to find something I could use against you. I haven't had a chance to read then papers yet, so I couldn't say. You're going to have to give me a chance to inspect the documents."

  "Not a chance this side of Hell."

  "Why?" Her voice was reed thin. Still, she challenged him.

  Slade slanted a disgusted look her way and went back to rummaging in the saddlebag. "I’m not leaving you alone. I'm sure Jericho and his men will have a fine time with you when they catch up to you."

  "I have nothing for--" she began.

  "Oh, you have a lot for me," he interrupted. "I just didn’t think you’d admit to treason and thievery so quickly."

  "'Tis for the cause."

  "Why did your partner give you up so easily?" he asked

  "Damn you, why won’t you listen to me?" Lainie demanded. She didn’t understand why, but she was furious that Slade thought her capable of treason even though she was.

  "I
’m listening. I’m just not hearing anything worth believing. You have a great deal of explaining to do."

  "Try not acting so superior and know it all. You’d be astonished what you might hear if you weren’t talking all the time." She didn't mean to provoke the man. It was just that he was so infuriating.

  The corner of Slade’s mouth twitched, but it was the only indication he gave that he had heard Lainie. Almost absently, he groped in the saddlebag, searching for anything else that might implicate her in the crimes she’d been accused of perpetrating.