The Highlander's Touch

by D. K. Combs

  She stopped a maid running passed her.

  "Have you seen any of the men? Brodrick? I can't seem to find them."

  The girl, no older than Saeran herself was, gave her a once-over.

  She smiled coyly.

  "No, but I could entertain ye' if that's what yer lookin' for." Her words were whispered, hot, and the exact opposite of what Saeran wanted to hear. Her face flamed and she jerked away from the maid.

  "Ah—I think I'll—" She shut her mouth, unable to believe the words that had come out of the maid's mouth, and turned around. She could find the men on her own.

  "Aw, the wee lad is a shy one!" the maid exclaimed from behind her. The hand on her arm stopped her from escaping. She swallowed nervously, pulling out of the maid's grip.

  "I'm in quite a hurry—"

  "Saeran!" the booming voice shouted. She didn't know whether to cower or be relieved. The maid backed away from her before the fear could settle in. Relief it was. "We've been searching for ye' everywhere, lad. Ye' didn't make it to training."

  Brodrick's growl washed away the relief. Cowardence it was. He came upon them, the maid with her head down and Saeran still blushing like a fool. A knowing look came over his face and he grinned.

  "That explains it then." He clapped Saeran on the back like they had something to celebrate. She didn't understand in the least. The maid scurried away, kicking up dirt as she went. Saeran watched her go, mouth drawn tight, the blush only getting worse. "She's a bonny one, that Denise."

  "She is?" Saeran asked blankly. He was talking like they had shared a secret.

  "Oh, aye, and ye' found that out right quick I bet." Saeran didn't even want to know what he meant by that. Thankfully, his face became serious. "Ye' should have been to training today, lad."

  Her shoulders slumped.

  "Aye, I know." There wasn't an excuse that she could give that this large, hulking man would believe. He was strict, rough, and terrifying. No doubt he was going to make her do something strenuous to make up for her irresponsibility. She'd prefer that to anything else—like him doing as Blaine said he would and complain to the laird.

  "Lucky for you," he said, a rare smile coming over his face, "we did not train. We went on a ride to secure the fencing in the north pasture."

  "There's fencing?" She'd thought the animals roamed free. She hadn't seen any fences on her way in, nor could she see any from her room.

  "The MacLeods throw a bloody tantrum if our lands aren't separated, and without the fencing, they'd use that as an excuse to claim our cattle. They're a bunch of girls," he grunted, beginning to walk to the stables.

  Several of the men were there, tending to their stallions. The second she took a step inside, she felt small, like she'd be crushed with one movement. The men and the horses were ghastly huge, and Saeran was...tiny.

  "Ye' missed today's work so ye'll have to clean out the stalls."

  It wasn't much of a punishment since she did it every day anyways. She gave Brodrick a tight smile and watched as the warriors began to file out of the stables. Lord, but they were imposing. They towered over her with a height she couldn't comprehend. When they glared at her, she nearly wet herself.

  "Blaine wants me to accompany her to the village at mid day," Saeran told him. She shouldn't have to, but something about him made her want to report everything she did. He had a hard, honest face. No wonder the laird had chosen Brodrick as his first. He commanded respect.

  "Verra well." He nodded his head to her. "Oh, and lad?"

  She paused, hand wrapped around the handle. "Aye?"

  "Stay away from the maids. They're a greedy bunch, ye' ken."

  Her face flamed. He burst into deep, thunderous laughter while striding out of the stables. She slumped against the wall. Cleaning out the stalls might be a pain, but she’d choose that over being near Brodrick any day.

  He was too keen. Sharp. He always knew when something was wrong—Saeran just prayed he didn’t realize something was wrong with her.

  Saeran made sure there was no one left in the stall and began her work, giving each horse an apple as she went. They’d become the only pleasant constant in her day. Getting pummeled to a pulp, dealing with her sisters attitudes, and fighting off the aches and pains of the pummels weren’t thinks she looked forward to every day, but the horses made it worth it.

  The one she’d ridden a fortnight ago nuzzled her shoulder as she passed. Saeran smiled.

  “Don’t tell the other horses,” she whispered, handing it an apple and sliding another one in its feeder. “They get awfully jealous.”

  The mare chuffed the ground and she smiled, continuing. She cleaned out the old hay and replaced it with fresh hay, then brushed down every horse. It wasn’t required of her, but she knew they were often worked all through the day. A little relaxation never killed any of them.

  When she got to the last horse, a stallion as black as night, she paused. There was a shifty look to his eyes and his breathing was forced, heavy. His barrel chest was heaving. She bit her lip.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, slowly holding her hand out to the stallion. His eyes zeroed in on her hand. “I can’t brush you unless you’re calm.”

  He neighed roughly and she jerked away. It only heightened his panic. He reared back, violently kicking his hooves out. They connected with the latch that held the stall door closed and it broke. Saeran didn’t have time to react.

  The beast came charging out, a shrill sound ripping from his lips.

  She flung herself out of the way, but not before his hoof caught her in the thigh. Saeran screamed from the shocked pain and fell back, against the stall of another restless horse. The stallion charged out of the stables. Pain wracked her, centering at her thigh and spreading outwards like a wildfire. Despite that, she managed to get to her feet. She could hear the horse and several men outside.

  Saeran blinked back her tears, breathing shallowly. Aye, moving was a lot harder than it had seemed. But she had to let them know it wasn’t her fault the horse escaped. She’d already made a mess of things today with Brodrick, she didn’t need to add more to the list.

  Her sister would hear about this, she knew.

  She wanted to crawl into a hole and perish. It sounded much easier than dragging herself out of stables and into the chaos of the training grounds. She grabbed a rope from the stables.

  Three men were trying to calm the horse. Brodrick was nowhere to be found and the insane horse was creating a stir. She ran forward—or wobbled. It was hard to run on a leg that felt only of pain.

  “Here,” she called, tossing the rope. The sound of her voice caused everything to still—or rather, the horse. As the horse froze, though, so did everyone else. It’s eyes, black, wide, and crazed, stared at her.

  Then it charged. Her leg made it impossible to move out of the way fast enough. Adrenaline rushed through her blood and she pitched to the side—right into waiting arms. She froze.

  “I donna know what happened, and I fear I donna want to,” the familiar voice said. She sagged against Brodrick in relief—then realized she wasn’t a simpering girl, but a lad who had to take care of himself. She yanked herself out of his arms, but not before she saw the speculative look in his eyes.

  “It wasn’t my fault,” she said the second she gathered her wits. The ache in her leg was growing worse. Lord, but the creek sounded nice right then. “He hit the door with his hooves with enough strength to break the hatch. I—I’ll fix it if I can get the tools.”

  She put a hand over her chest to still the beating of her heart, though it did no good.

  The binding began to loosen. Her eyes widened. Brodrick gave her a narrow look, then at the leg she was favoring. She instantly straightened herself, then regretted her decision immediately. A started gasp of pain left her lips.

  “I believe ye’.” He gestured toward the castle. “Go on and have yer sister tend to ye’. We can take care of everything here.”

  She gave him a grateful smile.
That must not have been the thing to do because his eyes narrowed, and then he turned away sharply. She watched him go with pressed lips. Had he noticed her lapse? The way she’d been leaning against him would have made it easy for Brodrick to feel her curves. The clothes hid them well, yes, but even Saeran knew they couldn’t hide them when she was being touched.

  Her face paled.

  Don’t think about it, she chided herself, wrapping her arms around herself as she retreated to the castle. It was one slip. He will not notice.

  The walk to the kitchens was painful. Her leg throbbed so strongly that tears stung her eyes, but she kept going. Her sister was not going to be pleased about this, not at all. Especially if she found out about Saeran’s slip. She worried her lip as she pushed open the wooden door that led to the kitchens. Blaine didn’t have to find out. She didn’t need to know everything that Saeran did during the day.

  She glanced at her throbbing leg. There would be no hiding that, though. She could hardly walk on it.

  The cook, Sabia, spotted her immediately. The petite woman had come to them recently, just a sennight after the sisters arrived. She was a widow of two children, her husband having died in a battle. The thought made her lips tighten. Sabia’s husband wouldn’t have died if her laird weren’t as bloodthirsty as she was.

  Sabia was holding up well. Not only with the loss of her husband and losing her house to a fire accidentally set by her youngest boy, but at her duties as cook. She made excellent mutton, kept the kitchens cleaner than they were when the sisters settled in, and her two children, Sorcha and Nial, helped her do the dishes. They weren’t even ten years, but they knew their duties to the castle and did them without complaint. Saeran didn’t mind letting them run around when they were done, but Blaine always had something to say about it.

  Sabia’s face drew tight with concern. “Och, lad, what happened to ye’?” She rushed over and helped Saeran into a chair. Grey speckled her hair and the harsh lines bracketing her mouth were even more pronounced with her concern.

  “A stallion and I came to a disagreement,” Saeran muttered, finally taking a breath. It felt good to sit down—no, amazing. What would be even better, though, was a trip to the creek. She imagined the cool water would sooth most of her aches.

  The injury was too high up on her thigh for her to reveal it to the cook, but her pale, waxy face must have been enough for Sabia to realize that it was taking a lot out of Saeran. She smiled gratefully when Sabia brought her a cool rag.

  Saeran reached out to take it, but Sabia waved her hands away. “I can do this. Ye’ just relax. I saw them bring in that giant beast a wee bit ago. It’s quite an impressive animal, isn’t it?”

  “Aye, with quite an impressive kick, too!” Saeran laughed ruefully, even though it made every muscle in her body ache. The motherly ministrations of Sabia was the only thing that kept her from bursting into tears. “I just hope Blaine doesn’t come in—”

  Her mumble was cut short when the object of her misery came striding into the room. Blaine stopped short when she saw Saeran sitting there, Sabia gently dabbing the sweat off her face.

  “What in all that is Holy is going on here?” she demanded, striding forward with her hands on her hips. Saeran sighed. “And what have I told you about sighing like that?” Saeran felt Sabia tense from behind her.

  Blaine, like a predator sense fear, snapped her gaze to Sabia.

  “Is that part of your duties as a cook? Tending to her?”

  “No, my lady,” Sabia murmured. Saeran sat up, scowling at her sister.

  “Blaine, she was just helping me—”

  “You’re a lad,” her sister hissed. “You can help yourself!” She paused, nose in the air. “You smell. Bathe and then find me in the gardens—as I said to earlier.” Back stiff, she stormed out of the kitchen doors. Saeran stared after her sister, mouth open.

  “I apologize for taking liberties I should not have,” Sabia said quietly from behind her. Saeran closed her eyes, cursing her sister. How could she be so cruel to Sabia like that, after everything the woman had set to order for them?

  “No,” Saeran said, turning around in her seat. She took Sabia’s hand and patted it gently, sighing. “I apologize for my sister’s behavior. She is having a hard time becoming accustomed to the order of the clan.”

  Sabia’s lips tightened, but she nodded demurely. There was something on the tip of her tongue. Saeran could see it in her eyes, in the way she held herself.

  “What is it?”

  “It’s not my place to say, my lord. Excuse me. I have duties to attend to—” Saeran stopped her with a hand on her arm.

  “Whatever it is, you can tell me. I am not like my sister. What is wrong?”

  “Aye, lad. I ken ye’ aren’t like yer sister.” A small smile lifted her thin lips. “Yer much nicer, even though ye’ let the men take a beating at ye’.”

  Saeran blushed.

  “Ah, my lord…” Sabia wring the damp cloth in her hands, indecisive. “May I speak out of turn?”

  “Aye, please.” Saeran knew servants had their places. However, she felt that though there were lords and servants, all were equal. Everyone was human and deserved a chance to speak their mind. Especially if it concerned her sister. Saeran had realized that her sister’s attitude was becoming worse of late. She wondered if others shared her thoughts—it would certainly clear some of the guilt.

  Sabia looked to the floor, then met her eyes. “Lady Blaine plans to become Lady of Shaw lands.” She pauses. “Correct?”

  Saeran nodded slowly, watching the emotions flicker in the cook’s eyes. “Aye, she does. Is that a problem?” She was genuinely curious. Saeran had started to notice the control her sister was taking.

  Sabia stared at Saeran for the longest time, then shook her head. “Nay. Excuse me, my lord. I have duties to attend to.”

  She watched the woman run out of the room and felt a tightening in her chest. It was becoming more clear to her how the people of the castle felt about Blaine and what she was doing.

  Grimacing over her leg, she started to the doors, knowing her sister was correct in that Saeran needed a bath. The thought of going near a horse again made the hair at the back of her neck raise, but her leg hurt too much to walk all the way to the creek.

  She made sure no one was near, saddled her mare, and tucked her drying cloth in her lap. No one cast her a glance as she pounded out of the training area, taking the long way around the castle so that if anyone did follow her, they would quickly become bored and leave her.

  Saeran had never taken a bath in broad daylight, but she was in so much pain that she didn’t care to hurry herself up. As her mare bounded over brush and fallen logs, the fresh scent of the creek overwhelmed her senses.

  She was smiling when she slid off the mare. Quickly tying the reins to a fallen log with one hand, she set at taking the pins out of her cap, tossing them into the flimsy piece of cloth when it was off.

  A thrill went through her. Lord, but this couldn’t have happened sooner! She slid off the shirt, shoes, and trews, letting them pile by the hat. Even with her aching leg, she managed to hobble her way over the green, prickly grass, and dip her foot into the water.

  It was cool.

  She laughed happily, jumping into the clear blue stream.

  THT | 5

  “Canna wait for a proper meal,” one of his men said from behind him.

  “Canna wait to get off this horse,” another grunted..

  “Canna wait for my bonny wife to warm my bed!”

  There were several grunts for that one, and even Kane joined in—except it wasn’t because he was looking forward to it. Nay, it was the exact opposite. He did not want to return to his castle and be faced with two lasses pining for his hand. He did not want to go back and be faced with the fact that one of those lasses, a reportedly kind, gentle girl, would be sent to her death because of him.

  He reached for the skin, putting it to his lips. The whisky was tasteless
by now.

  Kane didn’t know what to do. Either way, the lass was going to die. Should he put off the courting and let her have more time to live, find a way for her to get out of her marriage to Grayham?

  If it were any other man, he wouldn’t care. It was common for a lass to be sent off to marriage with a man she didn’t know. It was the way of things. It had happened to his sister, and it had happened to the two girls at his estate.

  But this was different.

  He’d learned his mistake with Annalise. Subjecting another innocent to that...it was making him go insane. Several times they had to stop for more whiskey and while Kane wasn’t a drunk, he thought the spirits would help alleviate some of the guilt.

  They hadn’t.

  They’d done the exact opposite.

  “My wife willna be so happy,” he overheard one of his men say. His eyes narrowed on the space ahead of him. “Our bairn has probably kept her up night and day.”

  “Aye,” one of the men chuckled knowingly. “I feel yer pain. When we went to war with the MacDonalls, my woman was left alone. I had the cold shoulder for a fortnight…” Kane didn't pay attention to the rest of their conversation because an idea so brilliant, so amazing and simple, came to him. It might be the whiskey thinking for him, but he didn't care. His idea was perfect.

  Neither of the lasses would take his hand.

  Nay, he'd make them both hate him so much they couldn't bear the sight of him. He'd be every terrible thing he was accused of. The king's contract hadn't said a single thing about his betrothal being broken. All it had said was for her to accept the betrothal, and the dowry would be his.

  Triumph surged through him, and he took another swig of the whiskey, this time in celebration. It was a flawless plan. The lasses had no clue what kind of man he was—no one except his clan did. He was the merciless Lion to these girls, and it was that way he would stay.