Hemlock

by N. J. Layouni

  “Be. Very. Still,” Vadim murmured.

  The warning was hardly necessary. She dared not even breathe.

  For untold seconds, they all stared at one another, as unmoving as statues. The boar was so close that its panting snorts were as audible as the blood rushing through her ears. Vadim stood rigid, arm extended, sword poised, ready to defend them if the animal charged.

  For a moment, she thought it would. The boar pawed at the ground, its hairy back bristling with aggression. And then, with surprising agility for such a large animal, it turned on its hooves and bolted into the bushes.

  In unison, they exhaled their pent-up breaths. Without speaking, Vadim turned to look at her and nodded, indicating they could walk on.

  Now she got it. Suddenly, his caution seemed completely rational. She kept a wary eye on the undergrowth after that, straining to hear anything out of the ordinary. Whenever Vadim stopped, Martha stopped a heartbeat later, her stomach lurching unpleasantly.

  When they broke free of the trees and onto the open moorland, Vadim visibly relaxed, even humming to himself on occasion. It was very reassuring sound. Finally, she dared to speak.

  “Vadim?”

  “Hmm?”

  “I noticed deep scratches on a couple of trees back there. What made them—deer?”

  “No, m’lady.” His eyes twinkled as he looked at her. “That would be Old Harry’s handiwork.”

  “And he is?”

  “A bear.”

  “Oh!” A fecking bear? Martha felt light-headed all of a sudden, remembering how she’d wandered alone through those trees only a couple of hours ago.

  “But you need not concern yourself about him,” Vadim continued. “He has already taken to his winter cave.”

  “Th-that’s a great….comfort.” Wolves, boars, and bears? What was this place?

  Vadim chuckled and took her arm, helping her over a narrow brook. Their run-in with the local wildlife hadn’t seemed to rattle him at all. He was a peculiar man.

  Where was his wife, she wondered. Did he have a Mrs. Vadim, stashed away in a cave somewhere? What was she like?

  Don’t start hero-worshipping him, Bigalow.

  It was hard not to when he’d rescued her twice already. Three times, if she counted earlier on. If he hadn’t come after her today, she’d now be facing the scary prospect of a night in the open. It was a sobering thought.

  And don’t go snivelling on him again, either.

  Okay, that last one was an important safety tip. When she’d been in crying in his arms, he’d as good as sprayed her with a liberal amount of Eau de Vadim. Now, as her body warmed with exercise, she detected faint wafts of man-scent coming from her hair and clothes. It was a good smell, albeit disturbing. Leather and smoke combined with his own unique fragrance.

  Get a grip, woman.

  Thinking of a way out of this place would be a more profitable occupation than pondering Vadim’s marital status.

  Had she, somehow, fallen back in time? Was it possible? It must be, because here she was. Although Vadim was a little weird, on an instinctive level, she trusted him. She believed what he’d told her about Erde, and all the rest of it. Why would he lie? If he was some kind of sexual predator, he could have easily had his way with her yesterday.

  Easily. Several butterflies flapped inside her chest, but she ignored them. In her experience, butterflies were misleading. Butterflies lied.

  Back to business. If this really was medieval England, and the wildlife certainly suggested it was, how was it she understood the language? Martha was far from an expert in historical studies, but even she knew that Old English bore little resemblance to modern day speech.

  Time for a spot-test. “Who’s king these days?”

  Vadim glanced over, frowning. “I beg your pardon?”

  “The king. What’s his name?”

  “Erik.” Vadim’s eyes hardened into black ice. “Erik the bastard.” He looked away up the trail, a tic pulsing in his jaw.

  Okay. So her spot-test turned out to be more of a sore spot. Vadim definitely didn’t care for King Erik, whoever he was. The name wasn’t jingling any bells.

  Maybe this was another world? Yeah? So, how did you get here? By rocket? Or did the friendly neighborhood aliens give you a lift? Oh, this was just getting silly. She gave an irritated huff.

  There was only one rational explanation left—for the wolves, the boar, all of it. This craziness was nothing more than a vivid dream. None of it was real. Anytime now, she’d wake up at home, safe and warm in her own little bed. Until then, she might as well go with the flow.

  “Would you like to rest for a few minutes?”

  Martha blinked and returned to the present—wherever it was. They’d stopped beside a small spring that bubbled from beneath the earth, forming a small puddle between the rocks.

  “A rest?” Vadim led her to the water and finally let go of her hand. “Your breathing is labored, and your face is as red as a berry.” His lips curved into a crooked smile.

  Oh? No wonder he hadn’t attempted to jump her yet. “Thanks a lot.” Kneeling on a flat stone, Martha plunged her hands into the chilly water and splashed it over her sweaty face and neck until her head felt like she’d eaten too much ice-cream.

  If this was a dream, why couldn’t she be all clean and sweetly coiffed, preferably wearing a sexy little black number? So unfair.

  Without speaking, Vadim handed her his linen facemask to dry herself.

  The sun put in another appearance, chancing a peek at the world from between the mass of thickening clouds. Dabbing at her face and neck, Martha leaned back and looked at the vista before her. Sunlight transformed the bleak landscape into something more beautiful. The colors of discarded autumn peppered the hills in patches of reds, gold and browns. Away in the distance, the peaks of white-tipped mountains glinted, forming a shark-like smile. Big, scary towers of rock that loomed over everything.

  A couple of years back, Tony—her scumbag of an ex—went trekking in India. That was what those mountains reminded her of. The places in Tony’s photos.

  India. She’d so wanted to go on that trip, but he’d put her off, saying it was a boys-only thing. It wasn’t until afterwards, when she’d seen the photos, and the faces of various wives and girlfriends smiling out at her, that she understood the truth. Tony hadn’t wanted her with him. But terrified of losing him, she’d kept her mouth shut, never questioning him about the presence of his friends’ partners.

  Martha shuffled on her stone, scowling at the mountains. How many years had she wasted trying to convince herself that Tony loved her? What a pathetic, cowardly idiot. Her, not him.

  Vadim settled on the rock beside her. “The snows are coming,” he said, staring off into the lands of the rock giants.

  “Really?” She handed him the damp mask. “How can you tell?”

  “The signs are clear for those who know how to read them.”

  And back into cryptic mode. “How…interesting.”

  Vadim rummaged about in the small pack at his feet and offered her a piece of hard flatbread. “Eat.”

  She didn’t need telling twice. Her stomach had been growling like a rabid lion for the past half hour. She attacked the dry bread with enthusiasm, spraying crumbs everywhere. Where did he spend the winter months? Surely he didn’t hole up inside the cave. How would he survive in such an isolated spot?

  “What do you do in winter, Vadim? Do you have somewhere else to go? Apart from the cave, I mean.” She smiled. “I bet you have some cunning plan or other up your sleeve.”

  “Cunning? No.” He continued to look straight ahead, a furrow forming on his brow. “Once the snows come, I shall winter in Darumvale as usual.”

  “Oh? What’s that? A village?” Her stomach lurched unexpectedly. “What about me?” The thought of being without him in this hostile place was now unthinkable, especially after the events of earlier on.

  “You?” He turned, a shadow smile dancing upon his lips. �
��I admit, your arrival complicates matters a good deal, m’lady—”

  “Well, pardon me for being an inconvenience.”

  “But there is a way to keep you with me, a way that will not offend the sensibilities of the good folk of Darumvale.”

  “Ye-es?” She wasn’t getting a good feeling about this.

  Vadim took a deep breath and fixed her with his coal-black stare. “You must become my wife.”

  His wife? “What?” Martha leapt to her feet, her eyes almost popping from her head. “No way!” She stumbled and sprawled head first towards a moss-encrusted rock.

  In one smooth movement, Vadim plucked her from mid-air, securing her to the lean, hard length of his body. “Foolish girl! I meant in name only, a ruse to protect you.” He set her back on her feet and released her as soon as it was possible to do so. “You cannot arrive there in my company as a single woman.”

  “Why not?”

  “It would not be…proper.”

  Martha faced him, hands on hips, chest heaving. So the charade was for her own protection, was it? The BS detector in her head was saying otherwise.

  Vadim looked down at the ground. “Surely you did not imagine that I would…we would…” He scuffed at the earth with the toe of his boot.

  It was satisfying to see him in uncomfortable territory for a change. A suspicious beetroot undertone crept beneath the golden tan of his face.

  “Would what, Vadim?” Martha asked, all wide-eyed and innocent, unable to resist teasing him a little.

  “That we…” He cleared his throat, suddenly finding the seam of his glove fascinating. “That is, you should…”

  “Darn your socks?”

  Vadim’s head snapped up. The puzzlement on his face sent Martha into fits of helpless giggles. She couldn’t help herself.

  “Martha?” Vadim wasn’t laughing, and his frown made her laugh even harder.

  “P-please don’t, Vadim!” She bent double, clutching her aching sides, battling the urge to pee.

  “I have done nothing. Are you quite well, m’lady? I assure you, it was not my intention to shock you so violently.”

  She flapped her hand at him, signalling him to shut up. Eventually her giggles subsided into just an occasional snort.

  “I’m sorry,” she said when she was finally able to speak again. “I just couldn’t help myself.” She mopped at her wet eyes with a scrap of tissue.

  ““You were…baiting me?”

  By Jove, I think he’s got it. She nodded, slapping her hand over her mouth to prevent another burst of giggles escaping.

  Vadim looked so serious, so stern. “Then you did not believe that I would expect you to—”

  “Darn your socks? No.”

  “Ah!” He smiled at her properly for the very first time, and the force of it drove the breath from her lungs. She reeled beneath its impact, her stomach dancing with a whole swarm of demented butterflies.

  Unlike Tony, Vadim’s smile didn’t end at his mouth. It involved his whole face. His dark eyes crinkled and twinkled, reducing his usual stony veneer to rubble. It was the brightest, whitest smile she’d seen on a man in a very long time—and he had the cutest set of dimples to go with it too.

  Unable to stop herself, Martha took a step toward him, unable to look away. His eyes weren’t black, she realized. They were much softer than that, more of a milk chocolate.

  Vadim raked back his hair with one hand. “Then you understand, my intentions towards you are entirely honorable?”

  “Yes.” And she did trust him. A man she’d called crazy. Someone she’d known for less than a day. “You should smile more often, you know. It suits you.”

  “Indeed.” Vadim’s smile faded. He stared at the horizon as some inner darkness veiled him from her. “And perhaps one day I shall.” Suddenly he was himself again. “Come. Shall we continue on our way?”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  On reaching the sanctuary of the cave, Vadim sent Martha to rest, for the final uphill stretch had almost finished her. Without argument, she limped over to the bedroll, and fell into a deep slumber almost at once.

  He built a fire then made a start on supper. The rabbit carcasses still needed butchering if they were to eat this night.

  He glanced at where Martha lay snoring. Stubborn girl. He would have willingly carried her home, but he had learned enough of her character not to offer his aid. Thus far, her behavior had exhibited a peculiar kind of self-reliance.

  When he had returned to the cave that morning and found her gone, he had imagined at first that she was outside performing her toilet. But as his sense of unease increased, he had checked the bedroll and found the mattress stone cold. Martha had been absent much longer than he supposed. Ignoring the warning in his head, he had immediately set out to find her.

  Locating the path she had taken was easy. A child could have followed its trail. Her marks on the land were as easy to read as footprints in mud. With hindsight, her escape attempt should not have surprised him, not when she had been so afraid and confused on the previous night. What had surprised him, however, was his decision to follow her.

  His life would now be much simpler if he had let her go.

  After gutting and cleaning the rabbits, Vadim chopped the meat into chunks and threw them into the small cooking pot hanging over the fire. The meat sizzled on contact, immediately releasing a delicious gamey aroma into the air, reminding him just how hungry he was. Adding a handful of herbs from his pack, he gave the pot another stir.

  Martha’s arrival had already upset his mealtimes. But he knew that in the days to come, a late meal would be the very least of the problems she caused. What was wrong with him? He was no callow youth, inspired to calf love by the glimpse of a pretty face. She was attractive beneath her grime; he could not deny it, but certainly no more so than other ladies of his acquaintance.

  So why, within a few brief hours of her company, had he abandoned all of his customary caution? Those who knew him best would gape if they ever learned of it. And rightly so.

  By nature, he was a solitary man. Wary. Mistrustful. Although he would die willingly for any one of his band of brothers, strangers frequently described him as cold and unfeeling.

  True enough. Had he been in his right mind, he would have left Martha to die by the river. She was a stranger, an outlander. A possible threat. But what he had done today was far worse. He had deliberately tracked her down with the sole intention of bringing her back again. As for the fake marriage offer… Vadim shook his head and stirred cooking pot more vigorously. That was an act of sheer lunacy.

  Perhaps he should call on Lady Juliana? His visit was long overdue. Maybe a few hours in her bed would rid him of this uncharacteristic behavior? She was always the most obliging of women, welcoming and eager to please. But the thought was fleeting and soon dismissed.

  He glanced over to where Martha slept, covered by his own cloak. Was her conversation with the Earl as innocent as she claimed, or was she, in fact, his agent? Either way, the truth would come out eventually. In the mean time, he intended to keep his new wife close.

  Was she a danger? Undoubtedly, whispered his heart. And in ways you have yet to imagine.

  She woke a short time later, sniffing the air like a hungry fox cub. On discovering he had prepared supper, she sent him a smile that stirred the dark cobwebs in his heart. Vadim rubbed at his chest as if it could alleviate the unsettling sensation.

  His fair guest was not the fussy eater he had supposed. She devoured her share of the stewed rabbit with impressive speed and then wiped her bowl clean with a piece of flatbread. When she had finished eating, she picked up her ale and drained the tankard in a few swift gulps. Vadim could not help but be impressed by her thirst.

  Heaving a sigh of contentment, Martha dabbed her mouth delicately on the sleeve of her shirt. “Thank you, Vadim. That was lovely.” A sudden frown creased her brow. “Why aren’t you eating?”

  “I ate earlier, while you were sleeping.” The cl
awing in his stomach had been too fierce to ignore. “Forgive me.”

  “That’s okay.” She looked around. “Can I boil up that pan of water to do the washing up?”

  “There is no need.” Leaning forward, Vadim picked up a handful of white ash from the fire and threw it into the cooking pot. “After all, you are my guest.” He swirled the pot around, combining the ash and warm fat into a rudimentary soap.

  “No, really. I insist.” Martha got up to suspend the pan of water over the fire, muttering beneath her breath, “It’s a wonder he hasn’t gone down with food poisoning before now.”

  He made no further attempt to dissuade her from her self-appointed task. Instead, he took out his pipe and lit it with a glowing taper from the fire, then he settled back to watch in comfort.

  Martha glanced at him. “That’s a bit of a grim habit you have there, if you don’t mind me saying.”

  “Hmm?” He waved his hand in order to see her through the cloud of sweet tobacco smoke.

  “If we’re going to be friends, it’s only right I warn you about the perils of the demon weed.”

  Vadim studied the pipe in his hand. It looked innocent enough. “What is wrong with a little well-earned tobacco after the trials of the day?”

  “Haven’t you ever heard about lung cancer or the effects of passive smoking?”

  “I cannot say I have, no.”

  She gave a little tut. “Trust me on this. Smoking isn’t good for you. It might even kill you.”

  The same could be said of a great many things in his life. Death stalked him on an almost daily basis. What was one more risk? “Is that so?” He raised the pipe to his lips and took another puff, ignoring her look of disapproval.

  Wisely, Martha said no more on the subject.

  When the first wisps of steam appeared, she lifted the pan from the fire and plunged the dirty vessels and spoons into the hot water, scrubbing each item in turn with a piece of rag and a stick. The force of her exertions sent dark tendrils of hair cascading about her face. He liked how she tried to huff them away when their irritation became too great.