Page 22 of Highlander's Sinless Nymph
Captain Bolton’s frosty eyes bored down into his daughter’s for an uncomfortably long time.
“Please, Father,” Charlotte begged. “I did not mean to be gone so long. I thought you would be proud. Happy that I was trying to make myself useful by procuring some herbs that might help your men.”
Finally, she seemed to have said the right thing. Captain Bolton seemed to relax, his incandescent wrath ebbing away like the outgoing tide.
“Fine,” he said, his tone back to something like its usual brisk self. “Well, see to it that you don’t do this again, Charlotte. There are many ways to hurt a man, and I have enemies that would not think twice about stooping to kidnapping you. You understand?”
Charlotte nodded.
“Good.”
Captain Bolton turned on his heel. “An intelligent woman would have left a note,” he said, and left.
Charlotte had not needed to worry about her father checking the bandages, seeing if the wound was fine.
A caring man might have looked, perhaps, but luckily for me he is not one of those.
She sank back onto her bed, pulled the covers around her and slowly,slowly, let herself believe that she was safe for the nonce. She touched a hand to her face. It had already started to swell.
A pretty picture I shall look tomorrow.
Her hands were shaking uncontrollably. A giggle escaped her, but it was not long before the frantic tittering turned into wrenching sobs and she had to bury her face in her pillow to stifle the sound.
Only two questions remained in her mind:
Shall I risk going to meet the Highlander tomorrow, and what does he have in mind…?
8
Edward was, as he had planned, up before the first bird the following morning. It was a knack that he had, being able to rise whenever he wanted. He had always had it. Out here on the lonely and unfriendly moors, on the wrong side of the border, with the possibility of sneaking red coats closing in on him, it was a skill that he was glad to have.
He had passed a cold and cheerless night in the middle of a bramble thicket that he had managed to cut a way into with his sword. It had not been what he would have called a comfortable night’s sleep, what with bramble spines sticking into him every time he shifted the position of his big frame, but it had been safe.
Now, he walked through the silent woods, heading towards the appointed spot that he and Charlotte had agreed to meet, if she was able.
There are few places more noiseless than a forest in the hour before dawn. There was no wind, and only a few creatures of the night were still out doing their prowling rounds. Edward moved with infinite care through this quiet world, pausing every now and again so that he could listen for the sound of stealthily moving soldiers, for any hint of an English accent on the still air.
There was no sign of the fox cub when he arrived at the meeting place. No sign of the little animal, without whom he and his greatest enemy’s daughter might never have crossed paths.
What a strange and unpredictable place the world is. Of all the ways that me clansmen or I might have envisioned getting’ within strikin’ distance of our most hated enemy, surely nay one would have ever thought it’d be like this?
He sat for a good long while in a clump of bushes within sight of the clearing in which he had come across Charlotte. Neither his eyes or ears, nor his nose for that matter, gave him any indication that there were English troops anywhere near at hand. As he sat there in the impenetrable blackness, whilst the stars faded from the night sky one by one, he found himself imagining Charlotte’s face.
Edward blinked and started.
I was just dozin’ off…
He blinked again and looked eastward. The sky was most definitely paling over there.
How long was I daydreamin’ of that English lass for? Did I slip into sleep? Me faither would have me bloody guts fer garters if he heard about me noddin’ off in such a position!
He rubbed at his tired eyes and opened his collar to let a little of the chill night air caress his skin and wake him up a bit. He had no idea as to how long Charlotte would be, or even if she would be able to come at all.
Well, all I can do is wait and see what the mornin’ brings.
It was not much after the sun had shown her fiery golden head over the horizon, when Edward was alerted of the approach of someone else by a low nicker from his horse. He had raised the mare from a foal and he knew every sound that she made and what it meant.
He had climbed into a convenient old beech that had spread its thick limbs in such a manner that there was a cozy crook where the branches joined at the trunk. This created as well-hidden and comfortable a nook to keep watch from as Edward could have asked. He had tied his horse within running distance of this perch, and he could see the animal clearly in the growing light of the early morning. The mare’s ears were pricked up and her head pointing off to his right.
