Page 35 of Laird of Flint
It slipped and skidded on the sod, and its eyes still rolled in panic. But it finally stopped running.
“Easy,” he commanded breathlessly, slowing it to a saner pace. “Easy now.”
Once the first coo calmed, the others began to settle. Eventually he was able to circle the animal back in the direction of the woods. The rest of the fold gradually followed.
Still, by the time he swung around to seek out Lady Carenza, she’d gained a hundred yards. She was blithely continuing on her way with her spoils in tow, which both relieved and infuriated him.
Taking bold strides across the field toward her, he scooped up his axe and tossed it over his shoulder without missing a step.
“Wait!” he called out.
Her shoulders jerked in surprise, which gave him some satisfaction. She probably assumed the cattle had trampled him to death.
But when she wheeled around to confront him, he glimpsed a fearful plea in her eyes. A plea that caught at his heart. Dissipated his anger. And dissolved his conceit.
“Let me take the beast back, lass,” he murmured. “I won’t reveal your secret.”
She flinched once, hearing him call her lass. Then she tightened her grip on the rope around the animal’s neck.
“This one’s mine,” she whispered. “Ye can’t have him.”
It was as if her soft voice wrapped around the shell of his ear and breathed an enchantment into his soul. He lowered his axe, resting the blade on the ground. Suddenly he wanted nothing more than to grant her wish.
Of course, reason dictated otherwise. It was possible the lady was fleeing an unhappy home. It was possible she was giving her father’s coo away to a crofter in need. But if both the lady and the coo went missing on the same night, it wouldn’t take a scholar to figure out the connection. And Hew had no intention of subjecting the beautiful lass to a cateran’s punishment.
But before he could discuss options, the lady’s eyes abruptly widened at something behind him, and she pulled her head back into the shadows of her hood.
Hew heard the cooherds approaching from behind.
“Who the hell areye?”one of them demanded.
With a grim frown, Hew turned.
If there was one thing Hew hated, it was a bully. Now he confronted two of them. Worse, they appeared to be the sort of brutes whose bodies were too big for their brains.
The dunces were standing but a dozen yards from the lady, in full moonlight, yet they were too thickheaded to notice that shewasa lady.
He supposed that was a blessing in this instance. She obviously didn’t wish to be recognized.
He didn’t bother answering their question. Instead he warned them, “You should walk away.”
The one with the beard puffed up his chest. “And ye should stay out o’ this.”
Hew ignored the threat. “You don’t want me to even the odds.”
“What’s that mean, even the odds?” the beardless one said, leering in challenge.
In answer, Hew casually swung his axe up where they could see it, resting the blade on his shoulder.
The lad’s leer drooped. His companion let out a low whistle.
The once leering lad whined, “We’re not even armed.”
“This?” Hew said with a shrug. “I don’t need this.” He swung it around with a showy flourish and hurled it into the ground in their midst with a resounding thud. “But I won’t stand by while two swaggering brutes threaten a wee lad half their size.”
“That ‘wee lad’ is a God-cursed cateran,” the bearded one argued.
Hew smirked. “So neither ofyouhave ever reived a coo?”
