chapter 11 - A MEANS OF ESCAPE
Days filled with the land opening up to forever. They skirted the mountain, rode at the base of foothills, across open stretches that dipped and fell. Rugged terrain at a rugged pace, on horseback when Maggie had never ridden as much as a morning before.
Many of their group walked. Talorc refused to let Maggie join them. She wouldn’t forgive him for the pain of it, riding, when she was not accustomed to such things.
Strong boned and buxom, Diedre, rode up and reached over, giving Maggie’s arm a comforting pat. “Don’t fret now lass, the time will fly.”
Diedre, a MacKay companion for Maggie. A woman who convinced the Bold that Maggie would need one for the ride. Female companionship in the likes of the MacBede’s Muireall, the widow. Proof the women at Glen Toric would not be so different to back home. Thoughtful of the Bold. Generous of Diedre, for they were in a troop of men. She rather suspected that was Diedre’s reason for joining the adventure.
As for Maggie? She was more than used to the company of men, especially warriors. Probably more comfortable with them than women.
Still, she appreciated the gesture especially as the woman did not hover but left Maggie to herself often enough.
Open and friendly one minute, too close another before Deidre would go off, flirting with the men as widows were wont to do, sneaking off with one or another. Plenty of men on this ride and only two women. Muireall would have liked those odds herself.
“The Bold may be a great man, but he’s also a man. Can’t be around one without some ill feeling festering,” Diedre claimed, an old mother hen even thought they were of an age. “Best to get bad thoughts out of a body or they sour the soul.”
Off with someone the night before, Maggie didn’t have to wonder about the smile the woman wore.
“Sore?” Diedre asked.
Maggie mumbled not as comfortable with complaining aloud as Diedre. “Aye. Don’t know why he won’t let me walk.”
“He’s the Laird. He’s used to telling others what to do.”
“And they all listen.”
Diedre nodded. “Of course. Like lambs and a shepherd.”
“Lambs are slaughtered.” Maggie countered and they both laughed. Only it wasn’t funny. She was being led as though she had no will of her own.
What had happened to her dignity, to her self-respect? Who was he to tell her she couldn’t walk, when riding for days was not natural. She may not be able to walk, if she didn’t get down off this beast soon.
Still, she kept the litany to herself, decided to deal with the issue her own way. She halted her horse on the downward slope, lifted her leg gingerly over its neck and slowly eased off.
“Are you needen’ to freshen up?” Diedre frowned. They had only just remounted from a short break. “It would be better if we wait until we reach the bottom of the hill. There’s a wee stream down there. See?” And she pointed.
Maggie had seen it, a thin thread winding through the valley floor. “Aye.” It took a few moments to straighten her legs against aches in places she didn’t know a body could ache.
William rode up. “Is there a problem?”
“No.” Maggie handed him her reins before he could refuse them. “I’d rather walk, if you don’t mind.”
“The Bold says you’re to ride.”
“He can do as he pleases. I will do as I please.”
She didn’t want to argue, she didn’t want to be persuaded, or treated like a recalcitrant child. She just wanted to walk, so she turned away and strode down the hillside taking a path with large boulders, difficult for a horse to follow.
“Wait!” Diedre called, but Maggie kept moving as sounds of the other woman closed in on her.
“You needn’t run from me.” Diedre huffed, out of breath. “If you ask me, he’s too high handed by half with you.”
“He is that.” Maggie snapped.
“The man just up and took you from your home.”
“He did that.” Maggie lifted her chin. “Just pulled me from my home, my people, what I wanted and then makes me ride that bloody . . .”
Diedre put a hand on her arm. “He has his reasons, I’m sure. And he’s a handsome man, no?”
“I’m not blind.”
“And you feel something for him?”
Maggie pulled away, looked at the mountains, honest enough to keep silent rather than admit the truth. Aye, she felt something for him but it was such a muddled mess there was no explaining it.
“You’re set on leaving him, are you?”
Was that an insult to his people? She didn’t mean it as such. “I didn’t want to leave my own.”
“No.” Diedre sat on a boulder. Maggie turned to see her motioning someone away. Another glance confirmed it was the Bold.
Diedre continued. “You didna’ want to leave your home, but you can go back. Just keep that in mind. You can have yourself a fine adventure and then go back. We’re not so bad, you see. You’ll like the folks of Glen Toric.”
“My brothers say the keep is built on caves.”
Diedre smiled and nodded. “Aye, scary if you ask me. But they’re down there, underneath us, dark and full of the echoes of whatever creatures are hiding in there.”
Maggie shivered, pulled her plaid closer around her. “I’ve never been in a cave, but I don’t much care for the dark.”
“Hmn,” the other woman considered that. “The men are waiting for us.”
“Then let’s move on down, so they can move as well.”
“I think the Bold is going to join us.”
Maggie looked, and sure enough, the man was finding his way between the rocks. Agile for such a big man. She would give him that much. He was just too good at everything. He was a fool if he thought they were a match. Foolish and impetuous was what she was, a far cry from good at everything.
Her biggest fear was that she would be foolish and impetuous with him.
“He’s a fine warrior, Maggie. I know you’re afraid he will be killed, but he’s lived to now.”
“Aye, until now.”
“My husband, bless his soul, was a warrior.”
Talorc gained on them. Hoping for a few more moments on foot, Maggie grabbed Diedre’s arm and aimed them both further down the hillside.
They were of an age, yet Diedre had already been married, birthed a child and been abandoned as a widow. That was the problem with warriors, they did things like that. Maggie kept silent. The woman didn’t need reminding of what was.
“You may have the right of things. I don’t think I would marry another warrior. It’s too much of a worry. Waiting for days, weeks when they go out for the fight. It eats at a body.”
“Aye.” Maggie nodded, glad she had Diedre, that the Bold had thought to bring her.
Diedre stopped, pulled Maggie around so they spoke face to face, eye to eye. “Just don’t let him near. Stick with the women folk and don’t let him near. Then you can have a high time with us, and return home to anyone you want.”
Wise words, only she didn’t know if she wanted to hear them. Contrary, that’s what she was. One minute enjoying the man’s company, the next, angry that he took all her choices away from her.
“You would help me?”
“Aye.” Diedre nodded, but didn’t have a chance to say more, for the Bold had reached them.
Maggie fought to hold to Diedre’s idea through days of travel, despite the aches of the forced ride she was drawn to the Bold. Though she kept her tongue sharp, whenever he was near, she hungered for those moments. Feared he would acknowledge her hardness and leave her be.
“Are you enjoying Diedre’s company, lass?’ A shiver of awareness shot through her as the Bold pulled alongside of her.
“Aye, I believe we will get on.”
“Good.” He nodded.
Her people were not ones for aimless chat. She had been relieved to see that neither were Talorc or his men.
After a time he took her arm, signaled to stop and be quiet.
They had just breached a small rise that looked over a narrow valley. Below, a herd of deer grazed along a stream that cut through one side of the flat land.
“See them.” The warmth of his hand intoxicated. She pulled free only to have him lean in, one hand braced behind her on the horse’s rump, the other pointing. Diverted by the strength of his hand, the sinewy strength in his arm, she failed to see what he was showing her.
“See him?” He jolted her to look where he pointed. “That’s Bruce, moving in.”
She sucked in her breath, surprised. Below them, blending in with the heather and the rock, a hunter crouched, edging ever closer to the herd, so much a part of the land that it was hard to place him.
She held her breath, as though even that small sound could be heard, and watched, waited, wondering how the Bold could tell, from this distance, who was who.
“He’s down wind, so the deer can’t smell him.” His explanation brushed her ear.
She focused, hard, on the man, Bruce, down on his belly creeping closer still. One of the creatures lifted its head, ears twitching, nose to the wind. The hunter stilled.
“He’s close enough now.”
Aye, Bruce was close to the deer but so was the Bold to her. The heat of his body, the brush of his breath drew her away from the action below. She looked at him, her handfasted.
He didn’t acknowledge her gaze, kept his on the action below so she took her time, considered just what it was that pulled at her senses. Why was he so different from the other men she knew?
The compulsion to trace the scar that ran along his cheek, to touch the crinkles that radiated from his eyes had her hand poised between the two of them, as though some magic controlled her better judgment. The dark tan of his skin, common enough among any who spent their days out of doors, fascinated.
“You’re going to miss it if you keep looking at me.” He said without once shifting his gaze away from Bruce.
Maggie snapped back just in time to see Bruce’s fluid adjustment from crouching to standing, aiming and shooting. He downed the animal in one shot as all the other game fled.
“No need for more. That will keep us for the journey.” Talorc told her and heeled his mount forward.
She urged her ride to catch up, confused by her compulsion yet not ready to fight it. “How did you know who that was down there?”
“I can recognize my men, how each moves.” He looked to her. “As I do with you.”
She snorted, “A stiff and bowlegged lass. Enchanting.”
“Oh girl, what I see you can be verrrry proud of.” He teased.
With her best glare she changed the subject. “You knew the deer were there but didn’t go to hunt.”
“Couldn’t have shown you if I was down there.”
His thoughtfulness defeated her. “You knew I would want to see it.”
“Aye.”
“I’ve never hunted.”
“And you’ve always wanted to, no doubt. I’ll be teaching you then.” Finally he stopped, turned and looked at her. She refused to look away, put her chin up defiant against her own reluctance.
“I would like that.”
He was studying her as closely as she had studied him. She fought the urge to squirm.
“No doubt, you’ll be good at it.” He stated.
He couldn’t know that but in her defense she admitted, “I can tickle fish better than my brothers.”
His chuckle echoed through her, rattling the foundation of her resistance. Over and over she tried to remember Diedre’s words.
Just don’t let him near. Stick with the women folk and don’t let him near. Then you can have a high time with us, and return home to anyone you want
By the next day her resistance was firmly back in place.