Page 26 of The Shadow of a Laird
He felt as though he had been given a verbal slap in the face, but then, trying to change the subject quickly, he said something that made matters even worse.
“Will you be able to manage without me?” he asked. If he was expecting Maura to say that she could not, or beg him to come back, he was disappointed.
“We managed before ye came an’ we will manage after ye are gone,” she said tersely. “Can ye use a knife?”
Gavin frowned. “I presume you don’t mean for cutting bread?”
Maura gave him a mischievous smile as she pulled out a long, serrated knife from the leather pouch she wore around her waist. “I thought maybe it would be put tae better use cuttin’ meat.”
“Rabbit? Duck? Fish?” he asked, raising his eyebrows as he took the knife from her and turned it around in his hands.
“No,” Maura replied. “Men.”
Gavin’s mouth dropped open as he looked at the blade, his eyes widening as the impact of her words sank in. “Yes, I canuse a knife,” he replied. “But I would rather not do it unless I absolutely have to.”
He examined the knife as he held it by its rough wooden handle. The light from the lamp glinted off its grooved blade, revealing it for what it was: a lethal weapon. It might only have been used for cutting meat in the kitchen, but it was perfectly capable of killing a man without much effort, even in relatively unskilled hands.
Maura took it away from him and put it back in her pouch. “Then I will do it,” she said, tucking into her food again as though the subject were of no importance.
“I’m not afraid,” Gavin said grimly. “I have used one before, although I have never killed anyone. But Maura, I would not hesitate to use that knife on anyone who threatened you. That is how much your friendship means to me. Give it back to me, please.”
Maura took the weapon out of her pouch slowly, holding it by its handle, and looked at it for a moment as though considering what to do next. Then she turned it around and passed it back to him, handle first.
“I hope we never have to use it,” he said grimly as he tucked it into his own pouch.
“So dae I,” Maura replied. “But better safe than sorry.”
They finished their meal in silence, and Maura went to fetch her own belongings. When she returned, she put on her cloak and looked around. “Sure, ye have packed everything ye need?” she asked. She noticed that the cushion she had sewn was not on his bed, and was ridiculously pleased to think that it was in his baggage.
“I do,” he replied. He looked at the size of her pack, which was almost as big as his own. “Can you carry that?” he asked doubtfully.
Once again, Maura laughed. “I am no’ one o’ your delicate ladies in silk an’ lace,” she replied. “I have been liftin’ sacks o’ flour an’ barley since I was a wee bairn. Come on—hurry up. We dinnae want tae be seen.”
They ventured out into the darkness. Maura was holding a shaded lamp, and she led them onto the road, guiding them with its faint light. Dawn was breaking, but it was still faint and distant, and the looming clouds over the hills were not helping, sucking the sun’s rays into a grey fog as they struggled to break through.
It was only the effort of moving that was keeping them both warm, and Gavin would have given his eye teeth to be inside a warm carriage, wrapped in blankets with hot stones at his feet.
Maura had never experienced such luxury. She would have settled for a donkey or a farmer’s cart—anything that kept her feet out of the clinging, sucking mud, which was so slippery that she had almost fallen over three times already.
Gavin had offered her his arm to hold on to, but she had refused, saying that she was quite capable of holding herself up. That was when Gavin realised that he was walking beside the most stubborn woman he had ever met.
At last, dawn broadened into daylight, and they were able to make much quicker time. However, they were still moving much more slowly than Maura would have liked. She tried to pick up the pace, but the mud under her feet would not allow it.
Gavin, seeing her frustration, asked, “Should we stop for something to eat? Maybe it will give us a bit more energy.”
Maura saw the sense in this, although she hated to admit that Gavin was right about anything. She nodded, and they found the driest patch of ground they could, then put down their packs, intending to sit on them.
“Make a fire,” Maura ordered. “There are plenty o’ dead branches lyin’ around.”
Gavin went to do as he was told, although he knew he would have to make a confession to Maura that would either amuse her or cause her to treat him with utter scorn. He picked up as much wood as he could, gathered it into his arms, then dropped it beside Maura, who had unwrapped all the food. He built it into a cone shape as he had seen others do, but he had no idea how to light it.
“Light it, then!” Maura said impatiently. “I am freezin’!”
“Show me how,” Gavin said sheepishly.
Maura looked at him in disbelief. She was about to say something scathing, but decided it was not worth the effort. She selected two of the driest twigs, then cut a groove in one of them and rubbed the other up and down it until a tiny spark and a curl of smoke appeared. Then she took a few blades of grass and held them against it until they caught light. When she had done this, she put the tiny fire nest into the pile of wood, which immediately began to burn with a bright flame.
“Now ye will know next time,” Maura said, as she held her hands out to the fire.
