Page 62 of My Scarred Laird
The man finally dropped her to the ground, and she sat in a heap as he did.
He dropped to his haunches in front of her, grabbing her chin in a rough hold so he could look at her.
“It really is tae bad we canna touch ye. A woman like ye is something ta behold. Ye probably doona even have any diseases like most whores do.”
Islay felt her stomach drop and panic start to rise, but she held it back and just waited for him to leave her be.
When he let her chin go, she stayed still and he stood, “If ye need ta piss, now is the time.”
She nodded, “I do.”
He helped her stand and led her over to the banks of the stream, “Doona try ta get away. If I have ta chase ye, I will take ye. So, make yer choice.”
Islay gestured to her legs, “I can barely walk, I will no’ run.”
The man nodded, giving her his back and moving away a few steps.
Islay looked around, before dropping to her knees.
She felt hopeless at this moment, but as she looked at the bushes that surrounded her, she spotted one that was going to be her salvation.
A belladonna bush. It was full of ripe berries that most wouldn’t realize were deadly.
Not until they ate some that is. She crawled silently over to it, picking a handful of the berries, knowing it didn’t take much to drop a grown man with them, and then grabbed a few more.
She put them all in her pocket of her chemise, trying to keep it from looking like she had anything in there, keeping one eye on the man who was giving her some privacy at least.
She had to figure out a way to get the men to eat the berries or, for her to squeeze the juice into something.
She grabbed a few more of the berries, did her business and stood on shaking legs, “I’m finished.”
The man turned, “Good. We have ta get out of here. Yer presence is requested by our Laird.”
Islay bit her lip, pretending she had no clue that she knew exactly who she was being taken to. “And who exactly is yer laird?”
Her captor got in her face, “Laird McGavin needs a wife. Apparently, all his others have died tragically. He chose yer sister ta replace them. He is takin’ ye ta keep her in line. And if she falls ill, well, then he will have ye just in case.”
Islay felt a shiver run through her and she lifted her chin, and the man touched her face once more, “So fooking pretty.”
Islay wanted to take a step back, but she held her ground, and the other man came back, “Let’s get a move on.”
She was lifted onto the back of the horse this time, behind the same man she was riding in front of, and they started riding hard.
She noticed something banging her knee, and she looked down to see a canteen there.
When she opened it very slowly, she smelled ale coming from it.
And she knew, now was the time.
She crushed all of the berries between her fingers with the juice running into the canteen as she did. She kept an eye on the man in front of them so that he didn’t notice her doing it, and after each of the berries were crushed, she threw them away, not wanting to be caught.
After crushing at least thirty of the berries into the canteen, she shut the lid, swirled the juice inside it and put it back.
She wiped her fingers off on a plaid that the man had peeking out of a bag he had and Islay hoped and prayed that the men would both drink from the canteen sometime.
After another hour or two of riding the men stopped, “I’m starvin’. Do ye have anythin’ in yer bag ta eat?” The man on her horse said, and the other shook his head, “Nay. Let’s hunt something.”
They hunted down a rabbit and set up a small fire to cook it.
