However, there was work to be done, and so he took himself to the Cow and Coxcomb, an inn where soldiers ate and drank. England and Scotland were technically at peace at the moment, with Robert the Bruce after some calm for his country and Edward not actually on the attack. Everyone knew, though, that it would only be a matter of time before both nations were once again at each other's throats, and no one trusted the peace less than the blank-shield soldiers.
The soldiers who fought for pay were restive, and they had information from the North as well as the South. Reade wondered if he should be worried at how easily he blended in with them, how very simple it was to pass himself off as one of their number. He and his clansmen had fought with the mercenaries and against them, depending on the tide of the war, and though he understood their difficult lives, there was a part of him that felt an obscure kind of horror about how rootless they were, how they fought for coin rather than for home or loyalty's sake.
There was some interesting information to be had that night, as it turned out. Some of the soldiers, who had finished a stint in England, seemed to think that the English lords were as sick of war as the North was and that there were mutters against Edward for his insistence on taking England. The only real advocates of the war were old hawks like Sussex and Conover, English nobles who had some very vested interests in taking even the wild lands of the North for their own private preserves.
A war was a war to these men, but Reade wondered if he could sense some kind of real enmity underneath for the English. They paid better than the Scottish lords did fairly often, but they were by and large careless with their troops. A blank-shield soldier's life was reckoned cheap in the South, and Reade wondered if he should suggest that they try to bring more of these men to the North, if they might fight better for land than for coin.
None of my business. That's Aidan's look-out. He's the clan head, and not me.
Even though it would be a long journey home, especially with a short detour to Dun Warring, he looked forward to it. The sooner he could put his feet on the road to where he was from, the happier he would be.
When Reade returned to his room at the inn, he remembered to be quiet as he entered. The embers burned low in the hearth, and he smiled to hear Elizabeth's low and even breath from the bed. When he held his candle over her, he was shocked to see what a change a bath could make.
Even in the weak light of the candle, her hair shone like gold, and he could see that rather than being sallow, her skin was as fine and pale as porcelain. There was a faint cherry blush on her lips, as if she had been biting them, and there was something so very kissable about her that he had to stop himself from leaning down to take her mouth in his again.
Ah, lass, but you're going to be trouble, aren't you?
He knew that he was as responsible as she was for what happened between them, and he resolved to keep things simple. It tempted him mightily to seduce her, to see if she was as sweet as her kiss implied, but he knew that he could ill-afford that kind of distraction on the road, not when renegades from both armies might make life difficult for them.
Mind off the lass, Reade. You need to get home, and you need to see her safe with her people.
He hung the dress and the boots he had bought for her off the chair, and then, as if hit with a hammer, he felt exhausted. He had been doing his work since before dawn, and now it was long after midnight.
He yawned, and then after making sure that the door was tightly latched, he stripped to the skin and climbed into the bed with Elizabeth. He felt her shiver as he came under the blankets with her, and he frowned when he realized how cold she was. With a mental shrug, he wrapped himself around her. Her shift was between them, and that was as decent as anyone could expect.
In less than five heartbeats, he was asleep, and as he drifted off, he thought that nothing had felt as right Elizabeth in his arms, ever, in his life.
* * *
The first thing Reade became aware of was a warm and female body squirming next to him. Still coming up from a deep sleep, he thought that he must have found a girl from town after all, and without opening his eyes, he smiled.
“Oh, little darling, you don't have to be gone so soon, do you?”
“What—?”
He tugged her back into his arms, and then with a single sure move, he dragged her half on top of him. Heaven above, but this girl felt good. Apparently, he had chosen well. She was a sweet weight on top of him, her slight curves pressed against him and warming him better than a blanket ever could.
“Ah, don't be so shy, lovely, only stay a moment. I'll pay extra for that, so I will...”
“You are disgusting!”
Reade came more fully awake, startled that he had managed to do quite so badly, and then he felt a shot of pain in his arm.
“What in the blazes... Oh. Elizabeth.”
He sat halfway up, rubbing at the spot she had pinched so viciously on his arm. Hellfire, but the girl had a nasty grip when she was offended! It was probably going to bruise.
Elizabeth used his distraction to scramble off of him, moving so quickly that she lost her balance and landed on her rump on the floor. Reade looked over the edge of the bed at her in bemusement.
“Owwww.”
“Well, what was that supposed to accomplish, lass?”
“You were... you were... you thought I was one of your whores!”
“Oh? Well, I don't know about that. I rather think you're too thin and pale to be one of the girls that I like.”
Reade hid a grin as red came up on her cheeks like roses in bloom, and her chin came up again. He leaned back in bed, and he saw her large blue eyes flicker down to his waist, where the blanket barely covered him. He decided that whatever else this journey would bring, he wouldn't mind having her look at him like that, look away, and then look back as if she couldn't help herself.
“Well, what does it matter anyway? I'm not one of your girls, whether you want me or not, and whatever else is going on, I shall be paying you to get me where I am going. There has been far too much lying in bed.”
“Ah, you think so?”
Reade laughed when he stood up, naked as the day he was born, and Elizabeth spun around with a squeak. He knew that he should be easy with her, but she was adorable.
“Get dressed. I bought a new dress and some shoes for you, and they'll suit travel better than the slippers you had on earlier.”
She slipped the dress over her head, lacing it up the sides, and when she had braided her hair neatly and tied the laces of her clunky boots, she looked...
Well.
She still looked like a beautiful girl in shoddy clothing.
“I suppose it'll have to do,” Reade said, almost to himself.
“Oh, so sorry I'm not less thin and measly!”
“I wasn't... ah, well.”
He dressed himself quickly, strapping on his sword and taking up his shield.
“Shall we go, my lass?”
“Yes. Finally.”
He went down the stairs first, and then on the final step, he paused.
“What, what is…? Oh. Oh, no,” she squeaked.
The inn was as busy for breakfast as it had been for dinner, and in the corner, bruised and still looking rather sore, were the two men that he and Elizabeth had dispatched so well last night. This time, it was daylight, and this time, the men had three of their friends with them. At any moment, they were going to turn and see their two attackers on the stairs.
“Oh, no,” Elizabeth said faintly, and Reade couldn't have agreed more.
><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><
chapter 6
><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><
It's barely dawn, and it feels as if things couldn't possibly get any worse.
Elizabeth realized she was staring at the two men, slightly startled by how very much she remembered about them, given the fact that when she had last seen them yesterday, she had been frightened out of her mind. She could see where
one swing of her length of wood had laid one man's head open and that now it had been bandaged sloppily. The other man still wore the claw marks she had left on his face.
She might have gone on staring until disaster found them, but then she felt Reade's arm settle around her shoulders, a gesture that was at once comforting and protective. He pulled her a little closer to his body, smiling at her as if there was nothing wrong in the world.
“Come on, pet. We're walking right out of here as if there's nothing wrong.”
“But...”
“My horse is waiting in front, held by the innkeeper's boy. It's a tall black gelding with a star. If you have to, get on that horse. I will be right behind you.”
Then he was tugging her across the common room of the inn, and she had no choice but to go along. It was both better and worse than she had thought it would be. It was worse because she hadn't realized how very exposed she was going to be to the men who had attacked her yesterday. It was better because Reade was there, smiling at her, chatting with her about where they were going to go today, and that he hoped she was well-rested.
He was, she realized, acting as if they were just a couple on the road, traveling somewhere to find work perhaps, or to be with family. He was so convincing that she almost fell into it herself, convincing herself that there was nothing to worry about at all. When she managed a slight and wan smile, Reade beamed at her as if the sun had come out.
“And there's my pretty girl. Don't worry, we'll be there soon...”
She thought they had gotten away with it, but just as they were going close to the door, a shout went up from the corner. The man with the claw marks on his face came up with a startled shout, and when she glanced back at him in a panic, they locked eyes. There was now no doubt at all that he had recognized her, and with a muffled curse, Reade gave her a shove toward the door.
“Reade!”
“Go! I told you what to do, didn't I?”
Somehow, despite the danger of the situation, despite the fear that was even now coursing through her veins and leaving her quivering like jelly, she wanted to answer him tartly, because a simple blank-shield soldier wasn't going to tell her what to do.
Then common sense asserted itself, and she ran blindly out of the inn, only slowing when she realized that Reade wasn't directly behind her. Instead, he stood in the doorway of the inn, sword drawn and with his back to her. She could see for just a moment a dazzling arc of silver in the air as he swung his sword, halting the first men who were coming at him.
“Do you fancy your chances, then? Come on if you have the guts for it...”
With a feeling like vertigo in her head, Elizabeth realized that Reade was holding them off, making sure that she was going to get to the horse without stumbling or getting caught.
Oh, fool, complete and utter fool...!
She hesitated for a moment, and then she realized that she needed to run. There was nothing she could do to help him in that tight space, and in fact, she might actually harm his chances if she got in his way. For some reason, turning her back on him felt like the worst thing in the world, a terrible moment where her heart rebelled so strongly she almost ran back toward him.
Then common sense asserted itself, and she raced out to the courtyard, where thankfully, there was a young boy holding a horse and looking positively bored, as if this was just another fight on another day.
She had never been a good rider, but now she scrambled up on the saddle as if the very devil was chasing after her. Elizabeth found herself astride, her shabby skirts lifted up to her knees and showing off her bare legs beneath, but she didn't let it trouble her before she put her fingers to her lips and whistled hard. Underneath her, the black gelding laid his ears back and shifted threateningly, but she dug her hands into the saddle to hold herself steady.
“Reade! Reade, come, please come!”
Before the words were quite out of her mouth, Reade came out from the doorway, or rather to her horrified glance, it looked as if he was nearly thrown. He came out stumbling backward, a large man with a short and savage-looking sword bearing down on him. For a moment, it looked like it was over, that Reade would end up on his back and overwhelmed by the men who were boiling out behind them.
Then, with what looked like a titanic effort, Reade thrust the man back, shoving away to land on his feet as gracefully as a cat. Elizabeth saw with some confusion that instead of looking afraid or enraged, there was a mad grin on his face, as if he were a man having the best time he could imagine. Something wild in his expression sent a twin shiver of fear and something else, something she could not in that heated and panicked moment put a name to.
He turned with a grace that reminded her of the finest dancers in London, and in the next moment, he was behind her in the saddle, vaulting up and making the gelding whinny with displeasure.
“Ah, Finnian, lay off your noise. We're in the wind now...”
Elizabeth saw the men coming out of the inn reach for the horse, reach for the reins, for the saddle straps, anything to impede their progress, but then the gelding leaped away, racing down the street, narrowly missing a man who was hauling a load of turnips across the road, and then they were away.
Elizabeth felt herself go limp as they fled down the streets, the men a shouting and terrible memory that grew fainter and fainter before they disappeared entirely. It was only when the voices were gone, and she and Reade were lost to the twisting streets of Glasgow that she realized how closely he sat behind her, and how he kept one hand curled close around her waist while the other held the reins with a sure grip. He was warm but as solid as stone, and for a moment, she simply leaned against him, wordlessly grateful, feeling the relief flood through her like cool water.
“Are you all right? Don't get an attack of the vapors now, lass, we're not out of Glasgow yet.”
“I'm fine! I'm not having an attack of the vapors! That was just... rather terrifying.”
“What a fine house you must have come from, then, if you can't take a bit of shouting.”
Elizabeth stiffened a little, shifting against him. In the heat of the moment, she had forgotten her story entirely. She had forgotten that she was lying to this man to get her north to safety, and that he didn't know her past at all. Didn't know her. That was the way it had to be, and she cursed herself for forgetting, even for a moment.
“That wasn't just shouting, you know. I'm used to some of my master's parties getting rowdy and fights breaking out. That never involved swords, however.”
“Oh, aye? I think you're just as soft as a rabbit, half getting ready to keel over from fright if I had gotten even the least little cut.”
“And I think you are being a terrible boor, teasing me like this when you were fighting a half dozen men who wanted you dead!”
“Poor little bunny...”
“Don't call me that!”
She stilled when she felt him brush his lips over the crown of her head. The gesture was shockingly sweet and lovely for a man who had just fought his way free of a bar fight turned nasty.
Elizabeth took a deep breath.
“I'm really fine, you know. You don't have to distract me from my panic.”
“Is that what I was doing? Seems a little too kind for me.”
Elizabeth smiled and nudged him in the ribs with her elbow. He made a soft noise, and then laughed. If she wasn't sure before, now she was. He wasn't teasing her because he wanted to make fun. He was distracting her from the chance that she might faint again. Given what she had done after their first meeting, she could even see why he thought that.
“I'm fine. I'm made of sterner stuff than you might think. I am not going to faint and make you carry me off to another inn to care for me.”
“Good, because if that lot belonged to one of the larger gangs, we're better off out than in. I hope your cousin is ready to see us, lass, because we're on our way now.”
><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><
chapter 7
><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><
Reade was glad to be clear of Glasgow by noon, leaving the stink and the hustle of the town behind him. It was one of the largest cities in his part of the world, but there was something about it that always felt small to him, as if there were too many people tumbled into a box and made to fight for their suppers.
When the last spires of the city dropped behind them, and they were on the road leading north, he heaved a sigh of relief at almost the exact same time that Elizabeth, still sitting astride in front of him, shivered.
“Are you cold already? That's not a good sign if you're going to be living in the North.”
“You can't scold me for being cold, I can't help it. And no. I'm not that cold. It's just that… well. I've never spent much time out of the cities, where there was always someone about. Even this feels desolate to me.”
Reade couldn't hold back a laugh, pointing at the crofter's cottages on either side of the road.
“We're hardly in the mountains, lass.”
“Yes, but... Oh, you don't understand at all, do you?”
“No, I cannot say that I do, but then I never spent much time in the city at all until...”
Reade hesitated, slightly appalled at himself. For the last few months, he had been working and living as a blank-shield soldier, comfortable with it and lying to anyone who asked. Over ale and card games, he tossed out facts about where he came as if they were grains of rice. He was from a no-name town in the North destroyed by the fighting, he was from Aberdeen, Ayr, Belfast. It didn't matter, and even when he was having a good time or deep in his cups, he never forgot himself.
Claimed By The Highlander (The Highlands Warring Clan Mactaggarts Book 1) Page 4