Page 4 of The Story of his Highland Bride
Slowly, she turned. A ball of orange light flickered in the near distance, weaving from side to side like a Will-O-the-Wisp. Her heart lurched into her throat—just when she thought things couldn’t get any weirder, creatures from fairy stories had decided to make her evermore certain that she was losing her mind.
However, as the orange light drew nearer, she realized that it didn’t belong to any mystical being that wanted to coax her off the beaten path toward her doom; it belonged to a lantern, held out in the hand of a horse-back rider. Two riders, in fact, though the other was relying on the first for light.
Without thinking, Eloise stepped out into the road, forgetting everything she’d ever been taught—and had learned the hard way—about the trustworthiness of creeps and strangers.
The horse reared in fright, hooves flying out at Eloise’s face. Her arms shot up to protect her head, terrified of the startled whinnying that filled the air.
“Are ye mad?” a gruff voice bellowed, scaring her even more.
“Have ye lads in the trees, eh? Ye thinkin’ to rob us blind?” a second, more menacing voice accused, pursued by a strange grating sound.
Peeking through her clamped forearms, Eloise choked on a gasp as she saw the tip of a sword, pointed right at her. “I’m not a mugger!” she cried out. “I’m lost, and I… saw you and… I thought you might be able to help me.”
What are they doing, waving swords around? It’s a bit late in the evening for historical re-enactments, isn’t it?She wouldn’t have dared to say such a thing to either of the riders, though she doubted the sword was sharp. It was probably a prop for whatever late-night hobby the men were up to.
“Are ye daft in the head, runnin’ out in front of horses like that?” the gruffer, sword-wielding voice barked, drawing Eloise’s attention to the speaker.
Dark eyes glared down at her: two black pools of fury in the midst of the most handsome face she’d ever seen. Everything about him screamed power and raw masculinity, from the square set of his stubbled jaw and the dimple in his chin, to the almost leonine nose and carved cheekbones that could’ve slicedskin. His strong brow bore a silvery scar that cut through his left eyebrow, adding to the ruggedness of him.
Letting her eyes drink in more of him, below his chin, she noted a corded neck, and a defined collarbone that led down to a broad and muscular chest; the silhouette of it visible beneath the thin, saffron-colored fabric of an… unusual shirt. It had billowing sleeves, though she could make out the bulge of his arms; the entire garment draping in a way that flattered his impressive upper physique.
Lower still, a coarse-looking kilt that exposed the most muscular calves she’d ever beheld, and the tiniest glimpse of thighs to match.
All of a sudden, the pieces slotted into place. They weren’t re-enactors; they were just actors, likely heading to some set or other, and she was holding them up. After all, both men looked like movie stars, and as she wasn’t up to speed with popular culture, they could’ve been the most famous men in the world, and she wouldn’t have recognized them.
“I’m sorry that I startled your horses,” she said, calming herself with some steadying breaths, though even a glance at the sword-wielder’s thighs stole her breath away again. “As I said, I’m lost, and when I heard someone approaching… I didn’t think. I just knew that I had to stop you and ask for directions.”
The devastatingly handsome man withdrew his sword, sliding it back into a long, leather sheath. “Ye speak queerly. Where do ye hail from?”
He must be one of those method actors,she mused.
“I’m trying to get back to the Cairn Bed & Breakfast. I’ve been walking for hours, so it’s probably not anywhere nearby, but… it’s just outside Castleton, if you know it?”
The man holding the lantern leaned closer, shining the light in Eloise’s face. “Are ye a Sassenach?”
“A what?” Eloise replied, frowning.
The man frowned. “English. Are ye English?”
“I don’t know what that has to do with anything,” she shot back, folding her arms across her chest. “Look, all I want is to find somewhere with a phone. A hotel or a restaurant or a police station or just a bloody phone-box, if those things still exist.”
The two men exchanged a confused look, but it was the man with the almighty thighs who answered, in a terse tone. “I daenae ken what ye’re sayin’, Lass. What is it ye need?”
“Somewhere or someone with a phone. I bet one of you has one in your trailer, or whatever it is you actors have on set,” she said, taking out her phone and showing it to them before adding, sarcastically, “You know, one of these new-fangled things?”
The man drew his sword again, faster than Eloise could draw a frightened breath. “What’s that, eh?” His glare intensified. “Are ye a witch, Lass? Are ye cursin’ us in tongues, charmin’ us withthat wicked stone of yers? If ye are, I’ll cut yer tongue out meself.”
Eloise dropped the phone, her gloved hands too shaky to keep hold of it. As she stooped to pick it up, praying it wasn’t smashed, she froze as she felt the kiss of metal against her neck.
Slowly, she stood back up to her full height, putting her hands up in surrender. “There are people looking for me,” she insisted, struggling to hide the tremor in her voice. “If you hurt me, you’ll never make another movie again. Come on, there’s method and then there’s madness, so just drop the act, would you?”
“What are ye sayin’, Lass? I cannae fathom a word of it, so speak plain or ye’ll regret nae takin’ me generosity while I still have a sliver of it,” the gruff, handsome man growled. “Who’s lookin’ for ye? Are ye runnin’ from someone?”
Frustrated, and close to tears with the sword’s blade nicking her neck, feeling less like a prop with every pressing second, Eloise clasped her hands together. “I’m trying to be found. I went to visit Clava Cairns, I hit my head, I got lost, and now… you’re scaring me, and I don’t understand who you are, or why you’ve got what feels like a very real sword against my throat.” Her teeth chattered with nerves. “I just want to go home.”
“And where’s home?” the man pressed.
“I… don’t know.” The first tears stung her eyes, and no amount of furious blinking could hold them back. “I don’t know where I am, and I thought you were actors, but now I’m not so sure,and I… feel sick. Please, just tell me where I can find help, if you won’t give it.”
