Page 9 of Bound to a Highland Beast
It’s only fer a short while. An’ on the morrow, I’ll fix it all.
CHAPTER FIVE
Isabeau woke to the smell of smoke. She didn’t know when she had managed to fall asleep, but it felt as though she had hardly gotten any rest. Her head was pounding, a headache nestling deep into her bones, and her entire body ached from the exertion and the cold. The worst were her legs and her feet—never before had she experienced such excruciating pain, and she didn’t know how she could possibly keep moving.
When she pushed herself up to her elbows, she found out just how stiff she was, her limbs refusing to cooperate with her. All she wanted was some more rest, but now that she had opened her eyes, she knew she wouldn’t get any. Besides, light streamed into the hut from all directions, the crumbling walls letting in the sunlight, and it seemed to her that it was already quite late in the day. Sooner or later, they would have to get moving.
Her gaze took in her surroundings properly for the first time. She looked around the hut in the morning light, noticing the dying embers of the fire Tiernan had lit, the large, loomingcracks in the walls, the debris that had gathered on the floor. In the far corner, in a spot of shadow, she could have sworn there was a mouse and she recoiled, hoping it was simply the light playing tricks on her.
Reluctantly, she dragged her gaze over to Tiernan, who was sitting by the fire once again, even though it couldn’t possibly be offering him any warmth. His back was to her and though he didn’t acknowledge her, she knew he was aware of her. He seemed to have a sense for this kind of thing.
He seemed weary, more so than she had ever seen him. His shoulders were curving in, his spine collapsing into itself. His head was bowed and he was staring straight ahead, into the little flames that still burned, his entire body in absolute stillness.
“I cannae be travellin’ with someone who is afraid o’ me,” he said in lieu of a greeting. “If we are tae spend all this time together, I need ye tae trust me.”
Isabeau didn’t speak. She didn’t know what she could possibly say to this. How could she trust him when she knew about his past? How could she get over her fear when she knew he had hurt people?
But Lucia had hurt people, too, an’ she’s nae a bad person. She only did what she had tae dae tae survive.
Perhaps the same was true for Tiernan. After all, he had had the chance that night to attack her if he so pleased, and yet Isabeauhad woken up entirely unharmed. He had no reason to try and gain her trust if he planned on hurting her.
Unless he thinks gainin’ me trust will only make it easier fer him tae harm me.
Her mind was torn between the two extremes, neither side of her willing to see reason. She was caught in the middle of all this and her panic had long since taken over. Her heart had not stopped racing ever since she and Tiernan had been taken from the forge, and she didn’t know how to calm herself. She had simply surrendered to the fact that she would have to spend the near future in constant, unceasing panic.
Tiernan turned then to look at her, pinning her with his piercing eyes. In the light of the morning, they seemed more blue than grey, giving him a softer look, though Isabeau was still intimidated by his glance.
“Ask what ye wish tae ken,” he said. “I will answer tae the best o’ me ability.”
Tiernan sounded honest enough. Perhaps all of his responses would be lies, things to make her feel better about their situation, but Isabeau wanted to believe he wouldn’t try to deceive her, even if in the end, it might have been for her own good. She had so many questions to ask him, so many things she needed to know. She didn’t even know where to start.
There had been one thought in her mind, though, which had been bothering her ever since she had first met Tiernan andAlaric had told her he would be working in the castle as a blacksmith.
“How many people have ye killed?”
Tiernan sighed, a hand coming up to run through his dark hair. It was disheveled that morning, strands flying in all directions, though Isabeau had never imagined that his usual level of dishevelment could get even worse.
She supposed she didn’t look much better. After a restless night and a trek through the woods for hours, she was certainly not looking her best. Though the cold had helped her remain dry, no sweat dripping down her skin as she walked, she was still caked in mud and in desperate need of a bath.
“I didnae keep count,” he said.
It sounded like a lie.
“But ye’ve killed people.”
“Och aye.”
Isabeau didn’t know what she had expected to hear. Naturally, a brigand would have killed people and the mere fact that Tiernan was reluctant to name a number meant there were plenty of victims in his past. His admission didn’t quite put her at ease, but at least now she knew for certain.
“Why did ye become a brigand?”
Perhaps it was a bit of a silly question. Isabeau didn’t know if there was anyone out there who wanted to be a brigand. Surely if there was, then that person was vile, but she wanted to believe most of them were thrust into circumstances beyond their control, and she imagined that was true for Tiernan as well. She wanted to know his story, though. She wanted to know what could have possibly happened to him that had left him no other choice.
“I was an orphan,” he said, his voice carrying just the barest hint of strain. “Me parents died when I was a wee bairn an’ I hardly kent them. I dinnae really remember either o’ them. I went tae live with me grandmaither an’ fer a while, everythin’ was fine. We werenae rich, but we had few struggles.”
Isabeau could imagine him as a young boy. She could imagine him playing in his grandmother’s garden, innocent, without a care in the world. She could imagine him grieving the parents he had never known, always living with that void inside him.
Her chest constricted as though a giant beast’s hand wrapped around her torso and squeezed with no mercy. She wished there was something she could say to comfort him, but what words could possibly help?
