Page 41 of Highlander's Sinless Nymph
Edward swallowed and nodded again. “Aye,” he said slowly. In truth, he would have been able to make much more speed without the girl, but there was no point in saying so. He was not afraid to press forward as hard as he was able to go, but the difference in their levels of endurance would become obvious as the day wore on.
Charlotte nodded slowly to herself, and the scowl that Edward was becoming far too used to wearing on his own countenance reasserted itself.
“Why are ye askin’ these questions, Charlotte?” he asked.
Charlotte glanced up at him. Her pale sapphire eyes having the same effect on him as a snapping twig did on a grazing deer––he was all alertness, his mind going momentarily blank as he ceased to worry about anything but what she did next.
“Because I think I can guess who my father would have sent after us,” she said. “And if half the tales about them are to be believed, then it would be well for us to not let them catch us.”
Edward’s frown deepened at this ominous talk.
“Who are they?” he asked, swallowing the last of his venison with an effort.
“Their names are Sheppard, Hirst, and Savage,” Charlotte told him, “and they are the men that my father sends only on the most important, time-sensitive missions. I have only ever seen them briefly––my father would never permit me to talk to them.”
Edward rubbed distractedly at his stubbly jaw.
How long has it been since I’ve had a shave? How long since I’ve been without me own bed?
At the mention of those three names he had suddenly felt very tired. Very tired, and somehow further from home then he had ever been.
“What’s wrong?” Charlotte asked him. To his startled surprise, he found that she had gotten silently to her feet and had come to sit beside him.
How is it that, even after three days in the saddle, she can still smell like a meadow in the springtime?
“Have you heard of these men? Do you know something of them?” Charlotte asked, putting a small hand timidly on his forearm.
“Aye,” Edward said, trying to hide the shiver of pleasure that he felt at this simple touch. “Aye, I’ve heard o’ them right enough. Any man who spends as much time on the borderlands comes to hear o’ those three.”
“Oh, I see,” Charlotte said, her hand still resting on his arm. “More beasts than men, is that what you’re insinuating by your tone?”
Edward gave Charlotte an admiring sideways look. Her gold-plated words juxtaposed so sharply with her wild curly hair, bandaged arm, and muddy hands that it was all he could do to not shake his head in wonder and delight. He snorted.
“Ah, at least beasts only kill when need drives ‘em––to protect their young or fer food,” he said heavily. “Nay, those three are somethin’ else entirely, I think. Murderers would be the politest label I could think of.”
He felt Charlotte’s hand grip his arm tighter, whether out of fear for their safety or to reassure him, Edward could not tell. It was amazing how the pressure of that one small hand could make him freeze more effectively than any armed man running at him with sword drawn and teeth bared. He wanted to reach out and put his big hand over her small one, but by the time he had decided to do it she had taken her hand away and was fiddling with the hem of her dress.
“Well,” he said, giving himself a little mental shake and getting to his feet, “ye had best finish that food, lass, and then we shall get movin’. We had best be gettin’ well along today, and we’ll do better to start before it gets too hot.”
* * *
Edward had not been wrong. It was not too long before Charlotte found herself too warm for her cloak. When she asked Edward whether they could stop so that she could take it off, the Scotsman replied that she had best do it whilst they rode.
It was a tricky business, fumbling with the clasp to the finely woven garment whilst Cogar trotted along, but Edward reached behind and held on to her with one hand to steady her and she managed it in the end.
The fact that he does not want to stop even for a moment worries me more than anything he could have said.
This disquieting thought was mollified slightly by the feel of his firm hand clutching tight to her side. She found herself enjoying the sensation so much, in fact, that she pretended to fiddle with the cloak for a few moments after she had gotten it off so that he would hold onto her for a few heartbeats more.
Apart from the looming threat of the three men––Hirst, Savage, and Sheppard––that were, even now, potentially dogging their steps, she felt in quite a positive frame of mind.
She knew that it was not only the extremely clement weather that she had to thank for this fresh confidence that she felt this morning. The chief reason, she knew, was that she felt like a weight had been lifted from her after having talked to Edward about her father the night before.
“I did not thank you,” she said into Edward’s ear, as they rode across a stretch of high green grass that bordered one of the innumerable streams that snaked their way over these luscious heathlands.
“Thank me? Thank me fer what, Sassenach?” the Highlander grunted.
“For listening to me last night. For listening to my depressing tale of woe. I am sorry if it made you uncomfortable,” she said.
