Page 11 of Bound to a Highland Beast
She could focus on the food for the time being—or rather on sourcing it, as she didn’t know Tiernan’s plan. Where would they even find food in the middle of the woods? Or would they have to find a village first? But then how would they pay?
All the unknowns were causing her a headache. Usually, she went to the great hall and was served breakfast. There was no thought process behind it, nothing she had to solve.
Had it not been for Tiernan, she didn’t know how she would survive. Nor did she know how he had managed to survive on his own as a child.
CHAPTER SIX
An hour later, there still was no village in sight. Tiernan could not wrap his head around Beag’s decision to drag them so far into the woods. He had no real reason other than to simply inconvenience them, and if he were honest, that sounded like something Beag would do.
Tiernan was tired. Tired of having to fight all the time, of having to put out fire after fire just to survive. When Alaric had brought him to Castle MacGregor, he had thought that things would finally change for him, that he would finally have the chance to live a good life. But even now, the ghosts of his past were pursuing him relentlessly, never once giving him a moment to breathe.
He should have known better than to think he could have such good luck. All his life had been spent in misery. Why should it be any different now?
As they walked, he watched Isabeau carefully. Once again, she was having difficulty, surely sore after the hours they had spentwalking the previous day. He hoped that her slippers were more secure now at least, and that she didn’t have as much pain with those straps he had fashioned, but they both needed new clothes.
And neither of them had any gold.
Once again, he would be forced to steal, but what other choice did he have? He wouldn’t involve Isabeau in it. He would keep as much of it from her as he could, but it was impossible to completely shelter her from the crimes he would have to commit to do what Beag asked of him.
As they walked, the breeze whipping his cheeks as it blew through the trees, Isabeau came to an abrupt halt. Tiernan almost fell on her, not watching where he was going, but he stopped just short and frowned.
“Dae ye hear that?” she asked.
Tiernan strained to hear, but no sound came to his ears. He made to speak but before he could, Isabeau held up a hand, shushing him.
Then he heard it. It was the cry of a child, perhaps a boy, asking for help.
“Ach, I ken what this is,” he said, but before he could say anything else, Isabeau was already off, rushing towards thesource of the sound, running with such speed that it surprised Tiernan. “Isabeau! Wait!”
Ye fool! Ye’ll get yerself killed!
She was light on her feet. He was not. And no matter how much he called her name, begging her to stop, she wouldn’t listen.
There was another cry and he knew to whom it belonged. Reaching for his blade, Tiernan pushed himself to his limits, running as fast as he could until he pushed through the last line of trees and bushes into a tiny path. There, he saw Isabeau, a young boy, and two men who were circling her slowly, looking at her as though she were a prey.
He wasted no time before he attacked.
With a cry, he threw himself on the larger brigand, a man with broad shoulders and arms like the trunks of trees. The element of surprise worked in his favor—neither of them had seen him coming, too busy as they were with Isabeau, and so he plunged his blade into the man’s neck without him having the chance to fight back. Within moments, the man was bleeding out on the ground and the boy was hurrying away, running down the path to escape.
Then, Tiernan turned his sights on the other man. That one was slimmer, shorter, but also younger, and he was looking at Tiernan with so much rage behind his eyes that his blood ran cold.
“That was me braither ye killed,” the man said, voice dripping with venom.
“Ye’ll see him soon enough,” Tiernan said, just before the two of them clashed. Like him, the brigand had a short blade in his hand, which was a blessing, as he didn’t have to avoid an entire sword. On the other hand, though, it meant that he had to get very close to him and risk injury himself, so he watched him carefully to see how he moved.
Tiernan raised his knife and aimed for the brigand’s chest only for him to step back, avoiding the blow. In return, he lunged at Tiernan, his fist connecting painfully with his jaw and sending him stumbling back a few steps. Shaking the pain off, Tiernan adjusted his grip on his knife, and when the brigand came close, he ducked and then sprang up again, punching him in the nose.
He felt bone crunch under his knuckles. Within moments, blood fountained out of the man’s nose, and in the seconds it took him to recover, Tiernan took his chance, striking him in the gut.
It was a quick and brutal fight—the kind Tiernan did best. There was no honor among thieves, and a dirty tactic was no lesser than an honorable one as long as it was effective. He didn’t have the luxury to waste time on honor. In fights like this, one had to move fast and ruthlessly, taking down the opponent before they had a chance to retaliate.
As the man fell to the ground, Tiernan stood over him and watched as he bled out, panting to catch his breath. Sweat coated his brow and belatedly, he realized he was covered in blood—hishands, his clothes, even his face spattered with it, painting him a dark crimson.
Somewhere in the middle of the fight, he had been cut on the arm, but he only realized it now that the adrenaline was fading. It was a shallow wound, one that was barely anything compared to other injuries he had sustained in his life, and so he didn’t pay it any notice.
He only paid attention to Isabeau, who had retreated from the fight and was standing pressed against the trunk of a tree. Her eyes were wide, full of fear. Her face was pale, as if all the blood had been drained out of her.
And she was looking at Tiernan as though she was seeing a monster.
