“The monks paid me to take you to McDowell,” he said stubbornly. “That’s what I’m doing. I know your sort. You’ll go straight back to the monks and tell them I didn’t do my job and you want the money. That’s your game, aye?”
“It might be your game, but not ours.” Bonnie’s voice quiet but forceful. Arthur turned around and stared at her in amazement. The carter was staring at her, too. His eyes narrowed. It was darker here in the woods now, and the silence was filled with menace.
“Is that so, eh?” The carter said. His voice was no longer friendly, but dripped with malice.
“Now, look here,” Arthur said, bristling with fury. “You leave her…”
“I told the priest, but did he listen? No!” the carter interrupted, cutting across Arthur’s threats. “Those fools think they ken everything. They don’t see that she’s a devil’s child. A witch. She’ll bring us no luck, and only ill on you.” His face was stiff with intensity.
Arthur felt his heart almost stop. He looked at Bonnie and saw that she was white in the face. An accusation of witchcraft would mean ostracization and death. A horrible death. He went cold.
“Say that again?” he challenged.
“You heard,” the carter said angrily. “She’s a devil, and she’ll curse all of us! I said to the priest that he’d be better off casting her out, but did he listen?” He gestured at Bonnie with an open hand. “And now you want me to disobey a priest for you?”
“The priest would know better than you if she was evil!” Arthur shouted. He reached out and grabbed the man’s collar, hauling him off the seat. He watched as the man’s eyes widened and his face darkened as he tightened his grip, slowly strangling him. He started to cough, eyes wet and wide.
A voice came through as if from the other side of the world. Arthur could barely think or hear. All he knew was the pressure of his fingertips on the man’s thick neck and how much he longed to choke the air from him and see him fall…
“Arthur, no!” Bonnie shook him. “Stop it! If you kill him, we’ll be outcast.”
Arthur tried to listen, but the words made no sense. All that he could think of, or see, or feel, was the man’s neck under his fingers and the strange coughing noises he was making as he choked the life out of his throat.
“Arthur, stop!”
A blow struck him, hard, on the head. Arthur fell forward and then spun around, swiftly, facing the threat. Bonnie stood beside him, a garden fork in her hand. She must have found it on the cart. His head ached.
“Arthur, leave him be. We can get off now. Before he recovers. Quick, now!” this last command she backed up by pulling sharply on his arm. Arthur didn’t think much further, but jumped off the cart and followed her down and into the trees.
“What were you thinking?” Bonnie whispered as they ran through the darkened woodlands, heading downhill and away from the road. “If he’d died, we would have been had up for murder!”
Arthur stopped beside her, making her stop too. They were standing under a vast tree, the bark touched with blue in the early evening. The shadows were black and the forest was silent except for the soft sounds of their breathing. He met Bonnie’s hard gaze.
“How could he say those things about you? That you’re a…a…” he couldn’t make himself repeat the lies the carter had spoken. Just thinking of them made him flush with fury.
“I’m not shocked…so many people have said that.” Bonnie’s voice was tight. “You should have just ignored it. I learned to.”
Arthur stared at her. He would have expected any other reaction, rather than this quiet acceptance. What had been done to her? He could barely fathom it. How had she lived, in those days between the destruction of her village and his meeting with her?
“They’re just words,” Bonnie said, though he could see tears in her eyes and knew she was about to cry. “Words can’t hurt.” She turned away and started walking down the path.
Arthur followed her, going at a slower pace. “Words might not hurt, lass, but if they say those words to the right group, you’d be burned.”
“You think I don’t know that?” Bonnie turned around to face him. Her eyes were big. There were marks on her face from where she had cried, but she was not crying now. She looked far too angry for that. “I lived with that fear all my life.”
Then, before Arthur could stop her, she turned around and ran away from him, into the forest.
Uncharted Ground
Bonnie ran through the trees, not knowing in which direction she went. The ground sloped downhill and she followed it, feeling her feet slip and the wet mud slide under her boots. She didn’t look back and she didn’t stop running. Branches lashed at her and caught her hair. She felt her heart beat and her breath rasp and her hands grip into fists. Her chest heaved and her lungs burned and she ran, heedless of the pain.
“How could he?” she whispered. Her anger still gripped her like a fist, making her not care about where she was or how fast she ran or anything other than a desperate need to get away from Arthur. The words he had spoken rang through her mind.
His patronizing attitude in the face of her fear and pain made her want to cry, or to spit in his face, or to laugh with the sheer affront and irony. What did he think? That she was unaware of the threat? Her whole life, people had threatened to have her burned!
“Now he says it, too?” Bitter tears blurred her sight. It was only luck or circumstance that had kept her from being burned. She had lived with that knowledge since she was a small girl.
Her foot slipped and she fell a short way, crying out in alarm as she rolled on the leaves. She came to a stop at the base of a tree. She sat and listened for pursuit, but she could hear no footsteps. The forest stretched in blue and black around her, a tapestry of shifting shadow and subtle sounds.
A gentle tinkling caught her ear. Water, Bonnie recognized it – the sound of a stream, somewhere nearby. She tried to get to her feet, wincing as her knee cracked under her. Her anger was running out now, replaced with a creeping certainty of how much danger she was really in.
Getting to her feet, she walked carefully through the woods, one slow step at a time. Her side pained her and her head hurt and her legs were aching. She followed the gentle bell sound of the water flowing. At the edge, she stopped. The scent of cool and damp drifted up to her. She realized her mouth was parched and bent down, scooping water into her mouth. The water tasted of earth and leaves. It was cold. It refreshed her.
“Whew.” Bonnie dried her mouth, closing her eyes as the silence of the nighttime woods descended unbroken. Strangely enough, her fear started to recede, replaced by the fact that was a place in which she felt comfortable.
Sitting on the ground under the trees soothed her soul. It always had, whenever she could escape from Mrs. Marlaw and into the forest near her home. She had been surrounded by chaos and noise ever since the sacking of her home. First the battle – all fire and hoofs and shouting – and then the bustle and fear of the villagers trying to escape. For the first time in three weeks, here in the nighttime woods, she was at peace.
Water dripped from the leaves, reminding her that it had recently rained and was likely to rain again. She looked up at the patch of sky she could see, and shivered. It was getting dark. Thoughts of her predicament pressed in closer. The woods were no place for a woman on her own. Or, for that matter, anybody on their own. Not at night.
Wolves were everywhere, Bonnie thought with a shudder, and other animals that might also kill. Outlaws abounded there, and now soldiers might lurk in the woods too. As well as nameless vile things that were spoken of in hushed tones, lived here. Shapeless things that people spoke of but in which Bonnie couldn’t help believing now that she was here alone.
“That was stupid,” she told herself, her fear returning.
She leaned back on the tree trunk and tried to make a sensible plan. She could stay here. If she just sat against the tree and didn’t move, the worst thing that would happen was that she froze t
o death. She had her cloak and the gown was of a thick fabric, but the nights were freezing here.
“I need to find shelter.”
That, too had its perils, Bonnie thought with a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. If she found a shelter nearby, there was a high chance that it would already be occupied by somebody. It was a good place, close to the water and sheltered by trees. Even were there no vagabonds living there, there might be wild animals.
The third option was to try and find the road again. The thought of the carter and his vile words flashed into her mind again and she covered her face with her hands. In that moment, she would rather die than have to face that hatred and cruelty ever again.
“I’d rather live here than with people.”
Bonnie made up her mind. She was going to stay here. With a small fire to warm her, she could sleep out in the open. The tree would shelter her from rain, and there was water to drink nearby. Ignoring her fears, she started to gather fallen twigs for kindling.
She had her own flint, and soon she had a small blaze going. She hunched over it, pleased to feel the warmth returning to her fingers.
The sound of the twigs snapping in the fire was calming, as was the song of the river. Bonnie sat where she was and felt real peace soak through her. With it was the knowledge that she was safe here. Wolves and outlaws seemed so much safer than cruel townsfolk! She felt the tension drain out of her where she leaned against the tree trunk. The sound of the river lulled her into restfulness.
A twig cracking broke through the silence. Her eyes opened. Bonnie sat up swiftly. She hadn’t realized she’d fallen asleep! Feeling annoyed at herself for letting her guard down, she leaned into the shadows by the trees and hoped that whatever it was didn’t see her.
The footfall’s too heavy for an animal.
She felt her heart thumping. Not only were the sounds too loud to be made by a wolf or any other surefooted predator, they were also too halting to be a four-footed animal either – no, this was a person. Bonnie shut her eyes, wishing that she could think of something she could do.
She heard the footfall stop again and opened one eye, looking cautiously through the lashes. She could see a shadow that looked out of place among the others. As she watched, it moved forward tentatively, then stopped again.
Ha! Saw you.
Bonnie surprised herself by the wash of coldness that flowed through her. She wasn’t afraid anymore. She was angry. How dare they come, and think they could harm her? She felt for something she could use as a weapon. Her fingers reached for a stone. She planned to hit them on the head with it. There was a spot, somewhere on the temple, where the skull was weak. She recalled an old farmer teaching her that.
She watched, eyes narrowed, as the shadow came closer. One step. One more.
She held her breath. He was moving so cautiously that she suspected he couldn’t see very well. In the darkness, he was at a disadvantage and she was not.
A twig cracked as the man stopped a pace from her. Bonnie held her breath, waiting for him to move. When he turned away, she seized her chance.
Launching herself upright, she threw her weight at him. She had the satisfaction of hearing him shout out. Her stone was in her fist and she brought it down in the direction of his head. Slowly, slowly…
“Wait!”
Bonnie stopped, the sound of the voice halting her in her tracks. She stared in horror as she found herself looking into Arthur’s stare.
“You…” she breathed. She felt her fingers unfurl from around the stone. She shuddered as she thought how close she had been to bringing it down onto his head.
Arthur stared at her. His chest rose and fell rapidly. His eyes were wild. She thought she had never seen anybody look as shocked as he did in that moment. Amusement flared briefly in her, but failed to kindle. She was too shocked for that.
“Thank Heavens. You’re safe,” Arthur breathed.
Bonnie stared at him. Of all the things that she had been expecting him to say in that moment, gratitude for her well-being was the last of them. She had half-expected him to put her before a tribunal for witchcraft, or at very least to be angry with her for nearly killing him!
The silence stretched between them, broken only by the sound of his breathing and the distant gurgle of the water.
“Arthur,” she said. Her voice was level. “You found me.”
“I barely did,” Arthur said. He grinned and, for the first time, she felt her heart leap. In that moment, she realized just how much his grin had come to mean to her. She looked down.
“I’m sorry I startled you,” she said.
“You did,” he said. He chuckled. “You almost killed me.”
“Sorry.” Bonnie forced the words out. She looked up at him, knowing that her cheeks flared with shame. “I had to do something.”
She waited for him to say something. She expected him to rebuke her, to be angry with her. The silence stretched for so long that she thought he didn’t want to speak to her anymore. Then he cleared his throat.
“Lass…where did you learn that?”
She grinned. He was looking with such admiration that she couldn’t help but feel the warmth of it.
“A farmer taught me,” she said. “He said to hit the temple.” She pressed a grime-covered finger to her own hairline, edging it downwards to the side of her head.
He raised a brow, impressed. “Thank you, then, lass, for not killing me,” he said.
She chuckled. “I’m glad I didn’t.”
His eyes held hers and she felt a bubble of warmth start to grow and spread inside her. She tried to hide her grin but she was too slow. He saw her amusement and a corresponding grin spread over his face. Soon they were laughing.
“You should have seen that…” he said, panting with mirth. “You were so fast! And I stood there like I’d seen Death ride out of the woods on a horse in front of me. I must have looked funny..” he was doubled over, his mirth spilling out.
“Not that funny,” she said, also chuckling. “You saw me, too…I bet I also looked funny.”
“Not funny, no,” he said as they quietened down. “Magnificent, yes. Not funny.”
She looked up at him quizzically. There he was again, saying things that nobody could mean. She studied his face, but she could see no dissembling there. Maybe, she reckoned after a moment, he was just crazy.
“Where should we go?” she said.
Arthur shrugged. “Well, what choices do we have? Stay here…go back up to the road? I’ve no idea what time it is. The church is too far away for me to hear the bells anymore.”
“True,” Bonnie murmured. If it was close to midnight, it would probably be best to stay where they were. They would be able to stay here the few hours before the dawn.
“Well,” Arthur sighed. “I reckon here’s as good a place as any. We can make that fire of yours again.”
“You saw my fire?” Bonnie asked sharply.
“I smelled it,” Arthur said. “I hoped it was you.”
“If it had been outlaws, you would have been dead,” she said with irony in her tone.
“That wasn’t why I hoped that,” he said. His voice held a strange intensity. Bonnie looked away.
“Help me with this fire,” she said instead.
Together they worked on the fire. Bonnie watched with grudging admiration as he collected twigs and piled them up. She waited until they had a good stack going and then lit the blaze. Instantly, the flame light transformed the clearing into a friendlier place.
Bonnie glanced across to where Arthur huddled by the fire. His face was lit orange with flame light and the dancing flames washed shadows across the planes of his face. She felt that strange tingling in her belly as her eyes roamed over his broad shoulders and down to his narrow waist. She looked up to find his gaze on her.
“What?” she asked, clearing her throat.
He didn’t say anything, his eyes holding her gaze. His expression was gentle, and she felt no threat
in it, only a delicious anticipation. The fire had burned down a little and it wasn’t too much for him to be able to lean across and for his lips to find her.
She sighed as his tongue sought entry. Her lips parted softly and he tasted her. She felt her body tingle as he probed her mouth, and she ached to feel his body pressed close to hers, the encircling warmth of his arms. It felt so good to be crushed firmly to him.
“Bonnie,” he murmured, his eyes on hers.
She looked down. Her chest was heaving, her heart thumping at twice its usual rate. She made herself breathe slow, steadying breaths. She tried in vain to stop her heart from thudding. She was sure he must have noticed how she felt. Her cheeks flared and she didn’t want to meet his gaze.
“So,” he said, breaking the awkward silence. “We should find the farm tomorrow, aye?”
“Not that farm,” she said, her voice sounding hard. “We don’t want anything to do with people that man has told about us.”
Arthur said nothing. When she looked up at him, she saw him incline his head in acknowledgment. “Aye, lass,” he nodded. “You’re correct.”
“Yes.” Bonnie said nothing, but stared into the fire. If they couldn’t go to the farm, that left them with fewer options. They could turn back, find the priory again. However, who was to say that the tales hadn’t been spread among the monks too?
No. We’d do best to go to Dunbar and sail uplands.
Bonnie surprised herself with that thought. She hated Dunbar, and she had an all-consuming horror of traveling over water. She would never have imagined herself thinking of such a thing. She cleared her throat.
“Arthur?” she said. It felt strange, his name on her lips. He looked up at her and she felt her heart stop as his dark eyes focused on her face. He looked at her with such gentleness, his eyes glowing. She bit her lip, her words catching in her throat.
“Aye?” he said in a melting voice.
She swallowed and tried to ignore the feelings washing through her body, longing, wanting, aching. Her memory had almost faded, but she recalled in time what she’d wanted to ask. “Couldn’t we go back to Dunbar?”
The Highlander's Honorable Savior (Iron 0f The Highlands Series Book 4) Page 10