The Highlander

  She turned to Gunnolf. "Wait, you must take Charlie."

  Gunnolf grunted. Niall smiled, knowing the feeling. He much preferred riding with the lass. A squirming dog, no.

  "I will hand him up to you," the sheepherder said, attempting to hide a smile. "A good sheepherding dog is hard to find."

  But Charlie was more than that to Anora. He was her loving companion, and Niall wouldn't have had the heart to leave him behind, either. Even early this morn when Niall had left the cottage before Anora had awakened, Charlie had stuck close by him like a loyal friend.

  Once Gunnolf had mounted, Master Torridon lifted the dog up to the Viking with a pained groan.

  Surprised Charlie didn't seem to mind riding with Gunnolf, Niall and his friend rode off.

  Anora sniffled as she hugged Niall tight again. "Are you all right, Niall?"

  "Aye, lass. With your arms wrapped securely around me, I could do no better."

  Gunnolf shook his head and Niall smiled. "What about you, lass?" Niall asked, worried about her state of mind.

  "I am relieved to know Master Torridon will take care of my sheep, but saddened, of course. In one fell swoop, I have lost my home, my livelihood, and my way of living."

  "Aye, lass, but you will be safe. And you canna put a price on that." At least he prayed they could keep her safe.

  They didn't speak again for over an hour as he tried to focus on Gunnolf riding ahead of them—the dog having fallen asleep in his lap—and keeping upright in his saddle.

  Much later, they reached a foaming burn where they allowed the horses to drink and rest. It was gloaming by then, the sun sinking behind the mountains, leaving a band of bright yellow, pink, and orange to highlight their craggy tops, a light smattering of clouds clinging to the pale blue sky.

  "Come, lass," Niall said, spreading a blanket on the grass. "Lie with me." When he saw her wary expression, he let out an exasperated sigh. "I am frozen to the bone. Every time we separate, I lose your warmth and am chilled all over again. Whether 'tis the fever or no' I could use your warmth, lass."

  Frowning, she joined him then. "John never said a man would say such things to me so that I would concede to lying with him."

  Smiling, Niall wrapped her in his arms as they lay down on the blanket, trying to get comfortable. "Aye, lass, I wouldna imagine he would have thought it would come to this." Then he closed his eyes.

  The sound of the stream gurgling nearby, the lass's heartbeat, and her light breath fanning his neck faded away.

  "Riders," Gunnolf whispered, waking Niall and Anora from their sleep a short while later.

  Anora's heartbeat accelerated as she tried to move away from Niall without waking or hurting him.

  "Your dog," Gunnolf said, "hasna barked as I feared. I told him to be quiet and shushed him and he has been good."

  Anora said in a hushed voice, "He can be good if you say the right words." She realized now why Gunnolf hadn't wished to bring him. If the dog barked, he could alert the men. If they knew that Anora and her party traveled with a dog, 'twould be more trouble. Had she made a mistake in taking Charlie with them? But she could not have left him behind. He would have searched for her and if he couldn't have found her, died trying.

  She petted Charlie's head and whispered, "Good dog. Quiet." To Niall, now standing, looking a bit shaky, she said, "What do we do now?"

  "Wait them out. Rarely will men travel during gloaming, unless 'tis essential," Niall said. "I fear they are looking for us now, but they are headed downstream, searching for a place to cross."

  She reached out and squeezed Niall's hand. He didn't feel as feverish, and she quickly felt his forehead. "Thank the heavens," she whispered. "Your fever has broken." Being out in the cold night air without enough rest, he could still become feverish again.

  She had never ventured in any direction other than the loch near her cottage, the village, and Laird Callahan's keep and so had never been this far northwest. She was curious as to what the landscape looked like. But she loathed sitting upon the horse for any more time. She ached in places she'd never hurt before.

  "Is there any place that we can take refuge?" she asked, rubbing her arms, a cool mist cloaking them.

  "Aye, we are headed in the direction of the McEwan's Castle. There, we can rest up, and I am certain the laird or the Chattan brothers, who should be there, will provide an escort for us so we can reach Craigly Castle safely. We could even stay at the Clan Chattan's holdings at Rondover Castle, if need be," Niall said. "One of my cousins has married the laird's daughter."

  Her spirits lifted, she asked, "Aye, good, how long before we reach it?"

  "'Tis a three-day journey to McEwan's castle, lass," Niall warned.

  Disheartened, she said, "Oh."

  "We will make it," Gunnolf said, his voice adamant, though she thought he spoke in such a way as to convince himself as much as he wished to convince her.

  Before they could remount, Niall had to lift Charlie to Gunnolf this time.

  "You are truly better?" Gunnolf asked, sounding just as worried as she'd been.

  "Aye, my friend. Much better." Niall lifted Anora onto his horse next, and this time he sat behind her.

  It felt so much different this way, instead of her hugging his back with a grip meant to keep Niall from falling off—and herself also—to his arm wrapped snuggly around her, keeping her back close to his chest.

  It seemed more… intimate, though the other way had been just as scandalous. Considering her circumstances as they continued on their way, she thought about how her whole world had been turned upside down as soon as she had found the wounded Highlander sleeping in her bed.

  And now? She was riding a horse, no small feat in and of itself, in the arms of that same Highlander—something so strange she would never have imagined such a thing—with his good friend. The Viking was just as hardy, carrying Charlie in his lap—away from a danger that had never before existed. And she was seeing lands she'd never visited before. Well, by gloaming, everything was darkening further, so she couldn't really observe much. But she could just imagine viewing all kinds of new wonders once it was light out.

  If they managed to evade their pursuers.

  Four more times, they stopped, watered the horses, and rested them and themselves before mounting again. Each time, she snuggled with Niall either on the ground, or in his arms as they rode forth. Whenever they paused in their journey, she would feel Niall's forehead to see if he was hot and noticed each time, Gunnolf looked worried to hear the outcome. She was glad to report Niall's fever had not returned.

  Every time they mounted was getting harder than the last time, her body aching from riding the horse. She hadn't moved around much once she'd dismounted, barely able to, and she was afraid when she had to walk after riding the horse for so long, she'd have a time of it.

  Gunnolf suddenly stopped his horse in a stand of birch. It had not been all that long since the last time they had stopped, so she suspected they were in some kind of danger.

  No one said a word. She was dying to know the matter and wanted so to observe what Gunnolf could see ahead of them.

  Fog had settled thick in the woods and surrounding glen. The day was dawning, but dark clouds threatened rain. Niall could not be out in this weather, she feared.

  Then she heard men's voices in their direct path. Who were they? Was Gunnolf able to see them well enough to determine who they were?

  Charlie let out a little woof, nearly giving her a heart attack. Gunnolf said, "Shhh, Charlie, quiet," in a low voice.

  They sat like that forever, and she feared the horses would whinny or snort and give them away. What was Gunnolf waiting for? In the worst way, she wanted to get off Niall's horse and rest her weary bones.

  Niall leaned his head down and whispered in her ear, "Gunnolf is waiting to see if the men ahead of us are dangerous or not. If they are, we will change direction. For now, he is judging their actions."

  As soon as the words were out of N
iall's mouth, his warm breath against her ear, Gunnolf turned his horse and walked him in a more easterly direction. She feared that meant the men they heard speaking were the enemy.

  It was killing her not to ask. They had to be quiet. Still, she thought it ironic that she had lived alone for so long and didn't have anyone to speak with and here talking could mean a matter of life and death, and she was dying to ask questions.

  Besides talking to Charlie, the only one she really spoke with was Matthew, though she'd always liked talking to Charlie better. Matthew. Oh, heavens, he would be terribly shook up to learn she had vanished. She took a deep breath. She should have left him a message.

  But she couldn't have. Well, she didn't even know where she was going. Not that she would have told him where she was off to had she known, but she could have at least said she'd fallen madly in love with her distant relation and had run off with him. Or something.

  Oh, aye, he would have believed that in a heartbeat.

  They had walked forever it seemed before Gunnolf kicked his horse, and they began to dash off across the glen at breakneck speed, her hair flying, her body bouncing up and down on the bony hard back of that massive beast Niall called Spiorad—Gaelic for spirit, he'd informed her.

  And he was a spirited horse. If it hadn't been for Niall's arm tightening around her body, holding her hard against his own, she would have bounced right off miles ago. Worse, her arse would be permanently bruised from the experience.

  Then Gunnolf eased his horse to a canter, and the rains began to pour down from the heavens. She knew the worst was yet to come.

  Chapter 12

  So far, their luck had held out, but when Gunnolf spied men ahead of them in the exact location they were going, Niall knew things could only get worse. Particularly with the rains threatening to spill. Then they came down with a vengeance. Niall tried his damnedest to wrap his plaid over Anora and himself, attempting to keep them dry. He knew Gunnolf would head again northwest for McEwan's castle in a short while, though the current route they were on was taking them out of their way. They still had a hard two days' ride ahead of them, and they weren't making progress like they needed to.

  The horses were tired and so were the riders. The only one getting any rest was Charlie.

  Despite all that she'd been through and not being used to riding a horse and being fearful of them, dealing with the cold, and losing everything she'd ever known, Anora was holding up well. She had remained silent when she needed to, and without complaint, had done all that they had asked of her. She'd only given her dog hell once, when she'd been alone in the woods relieving herself and Charlie had startled a squeak out of her. And then got a low harsh scolding from her. He and Gunnolf had shared smiles.

  Niall wasn't used to traveling with a lass and her dog. He was proud of her for being such a good traveler despite everything.

  She hadn't said a word about his comment concerning marrying her. If she was of the French nobility, she might not wish to marry him. But still, he was of the mind he would change her thoughts concerning the matter—despite that he had no title or lands to call his own. What Highlander could say that he had a wife who would fight a Highland warrior, wielding only a pitchfork, or that she would raise a Highlander's sword to fight a Viking warrior to protect him?

  Her stories fascinated him, and he was thinking that if he had a bairn with her, how she would tell the child her delightful tales. And he would settle down with them to listen, too. Most of all, he loved the way she worried about his health, snuggled with him as if it was for more than warmth, and even kissed him back when he weakly attempted to kiss her earlier.

  "I see a place up ahead to rest," Gunnolf called out to them in the now gale force rains and wind.

  Niall was hoping for an abandoned cottage, but instead he saw a protective rock overhang. It would have to do.

  When they approached, he realized—with great relief—the shelter was big enough for their horses, too.

  After they rode under the rock overhang, he dismounted and helped Anora down, but she was barely able to stand. He quickly made up a blanket bed for her on the stone floor beneath the overhang. "Rest, Anora. We should be safe here for a while." He glanced at Gunnolf, who spread out a blanket of his own against the opposite wall.

  Charlie stared out at the waterfall flowing over the edge of the slab of rock protecting them, the water hitting the rocks and splattering.

  "I have come to believe there is nothing worse than having a dog riding in your lap," Gunnolf said, though he sounded serious, Niall noted his eyes glinted with humor. "I smell like wet dog now." He pulled off his belted plaid and shook it off.

  Niall smiled, doing the same with his plaid. "I smell like a shepherdess's sweet lavender."

  "Then we shall have to trade riders on the next part of our journey," Gunnolf said, winking at Anora as she reclined on the makeshift blanket bed. "Do you know the dog kicks in his sleep? I thought he would wear a hole in my leg from all the scratching he was doing."

  Anora and Niall chuckled.

  "So, what did you see ahead of us back there," Niall asked, "when we heard men's voices and had to stop for so long?"

  "Half a dozen men wearing dark gray cloaks were speaking to a man at his shieling. He was shaking his head, indicating he hadna seen whoever they were looking for. They searched his shieling and byre and continued to talk to him. I thought we might wait them out and settle there after they left. But decided against it. 'Twould be better if no one saw us during our travels, if we can avoid it, and no one could be forced to tell them what they wished to know."

  "Were they Laird Callahan's men mayhap?" Niall asked.

  "Nay."

  "You would have said if they had been Cian's men," Niall said, which left only one other possibility.

  "They were not dressed as we are. So nay," Gunnolf said, settling down on his blanket.

  "The Frenchmen I saw in the village," Anora said wearily from her blanket bed.

  "Ja," Gunnolf said. "I suspect as much."

  Niall glanced down at Anora, her eyes closed, but she was shivering. "May I rest with you, lass?"

  "Are you feverish again?" She sat up at once as if she had neglected to ascertain his health first before she tried to rest.

  "Nay, lass. I am well, but you appear to be shivering."

  She glanced at Gunnolf, who quickly hid his grin and closed his eyes.

  "Aye, you may," she said, and Niall tried not to show how eager he was to hold her close again.

  Before she snuggled against his chest, she felt his forehead, just in case, and he took her hand and kissed it. "No fever, aye?"

  "You are fine, thank the Lord." And then she cuddled against his chest, and he believed, despite their circumstances, he had found a bit of heaven.

  Nearly drifting off to sleep, he listened to the sound of the rain pouring down off the hillside and their rock shelter like a waterfall, splashing hard on the rocks. The wind howled, the air filled with the fresh scent of a cleansing rain.

  Gunnolf suddenly exclaimed, "God's…" Then he bit off the curse and said, "I didna invite you here to join me, dog. 'Tis bad enough I have to ride with you. You… are… wet. And… smelly."

  Anora and Niall chuckled.

  Everyone was quiet for a few minutes, then Gunnolf said, "Dog, can you breathe the other way. Your breath smells as foul as fish rotting on the shore on a hot summer's day."

  Niall smiled. He was glad for the sweet smelling lassie tucked in his embrace.

  Several hours later when the sun began to rise, the rain let up and Anora rose to pull something from one of the packs. "Bread and cheese," she said, then fetched mead for them.

  "Why do you fear horses so much?" Niall asked Anora, as she sat down on the blanket next to him to eat her meal.

  “Well, you see, once there was a page…”

  “Not Pierre, perchance,” he said frowning.

  “The one and the same. He liked to play tricks on whosoever he co
uld. But one day he made the mistake of loosening the straps on my horse’s saddle…”

  “You mean at the time you were unafraid of horses? You have ridden horses before?” Niall couldn't believe it.

  “'Tis only a story.”

  “Aye, of course, continue. I learn so much from your stories.” And now he believed they were not made up in the least.

  “As soon as we galloped out of the courtyard, the saddle came off, and I fell. I struck my head on the stone pavement and was knocked unconscious for two whole days. Of course, I do not remember much about that, and my memories of earlier times suffered for it, but poor Pierre…”

  “Poor? I would have killed the lad. I would think he deserved whatever was coming to him,” Niall growled.

  "Ja," Gunnolf said. "I would agree."

  “True, but actually he was quite smitten with me and since my horse was found to be suffering from some malady that morn—though I know not what, the stable hand had traded mine for one of the other page’s horses. Pierre, thinking it was one of the other boy's horses…”

  “I see. So he hadna meant to injure you. Just the same…” Niall ground his teeth.

  “Aye, just the same, the fall could have killed me or anyone else who might have taken the spill. He was whipped, though things like that normally did not happen to lords. Even so 'twas not a good practice to knock the lord’s daughter senseless for two days just to play a prank on someone else.”

  “I should say no'. Who was your father?” Niall asked.

  She chewed on her bottom lip. "Julian Frederick Ponsot."

  "Brother to Count Jacques Ponsot?"

  "Aye. Is there naught that you are afraid of?" she asked Niall.

  "A lass wielding a pitchfork, mayhap," Niall said very seriously. For a moment, in his weary and wounded state, he hadn't known who was poking him with the prongs of the fork that day. It could have been a hulking brute of a man.