Page 34 of Highlander's Sinless Nymph
“Rain,” he said.
They trotted along at an easy pace, a pace that Edward knew Cogar could keep up all day, even though she carried the Englishwoman as well as himself. Edward made sure to keep out of the gullies, despite the fact that they would afford the two of them better cover than the open plains. He did not want to get caught in a hemmed in river valley with the promise of heavy rain in the air.
“Why not?” Charlotte asked him, when he told her that he wanted to keep to the higher, surer footing of the heathland, rather than dip out of sight into one of the sheer-sided ravines.
“Because, even though it is nae rainin’ here, it might very well be pishin’ down out on the eastward hills,” he replied levelly. “Many o’ these wee icy streams run down out of those hills, and if we were to get caught in a sudden flood––a surge that came rippin’ down the valley we’re in faster than a horse can gallop––then we would be up to our eyebrows in shite.”
Edward paused, as he realized that he was talking to a lady.
“That is to say,” he said, “that we’d be in real trouble.”
Charlotte laughed delightedly. It seemed that it was not often that she had men use such salty language around her, despite living in the middle of an army encampment.
“My father has a very small tolerance for any man who used foul or uncouth language around me, you know,” she said. “Very,verysmall. Non-existent, in actual fact. His soldiers got the point after he had one persistent fellow flogged half to death for repeatedly forgetting this aversion.”
“Well, yer faither is nothin’ if nae consistent, I’ll give him that,” Edward replied brusquely. The talk died away, as it often did at the mention of Captain Bolton. Edward still found it hard to believe the evidence of his own eyes; that a man as rotten on the inside as Captain Bolton could have sired such a fine-looking woman as Charlotte.
“Well,” Charlotte said, in a voice that told Edward that she was trying to find a way in which she might be able to raise herself beyond the uselesssassenachthat she clearly thought he saw her as, “I can swim, you know. Quite well, in fact.”
Edward spared her half-glance over his brawny shoulder. The thought of the Englishwoman swimming through the clear waters of a Highland loch was a beguiling one to say the least. He clucked his tongue at his mare. “Oh, I’ve nay doubt ye can swim like a trout, Miss Bolton,” he said, in a placating tone.
His skepticism was not missed by the sharp woman behind him. To his consternation, she poked him in the ribs.
“Ican,” she insisted. “If the risk of flooding is only a slight one, then do not shirk the valley path on my account.”
Edward sighed through his nose.
Sometimes I think the lass has tongue enough fer ten more rows o’ teeth.
“I believe ye can swim, Sassenach,” he said. “But, how do ye think ye’d fair against the boulders and logs and other debris that get washed down with the water?”
A thoughtful silence greeted his words, and with it came the first spots of rain.
* * *
They camped that night under an overhanging bluff that screened them from the worst of the weather. They sat with their back to the rock wall, as close to the fire as they could without actually setting themselves alight. They had gotten fairly saturated just before deciding to call a halt to their journey.
Charlotte was very aware of the Highlander’s proximity to her; of the damp smell of his woolen garments, of his breathing, every time that he shifted his imposing frame and accidentally brushed up against her.
The rain was hissing down in a constant steady downpour that only the Highlands of Scotland ever sees. Sitting as they were, in the protection of the rocky lee, Charlotte almost felt as if they were inside a waterfall. Despite the roar of the rain and the occasional howl of the wind as it gusted through the jagged rocks, she could still make out the close churning rumble of one of the many rivers. She was mightily glad that Edward had squashed her boastful idea of riding through the valleys.
“Right, Sassenach,” Edward said, staring out into the gloaming, “I shall try and see if I cannae find somethin’ fer us to eat. Maybe this evenin’ it might be wise to craft us a few wee spits to hang our meatoverthe embers, rather than in them, eh?”
Charlotte pulled a face at the handsome Scotsman as he got to his feet and elicited one of his rare chuckles from him.
She had spotted some wild garlic and thyme growing nearby, as they had pulled into their camping spot, and she meant to pick some and rub their meat with it.
That will show the cocky hunter-gatherer that I am not entirely without use.
Looking out into the deluge that continued to fall outside of their insubstantial bit of shelter, the idea of impressing the Highlander did not seemquiteso important as it had before.
A grunt next to her jogged Charlotte out of these thoughts of impressing her traveling companion.
Oh my…
Edward had removed his cloak and was now unbuttoning his rough linen shirt. Even as Charlotte watched, the rugged Highlander pulled the shirt over his head, folded it a couple of times and covered it with the waxed cloth that usually wrapped his bow.
I am definitely going to have to reconsider my definition of men now.
