Page 53 of Highlander's Sinless Nymph
Edward gulped. Just that slight bobbing of his Adam’s apple drew a bead of blood from where the dagger rested against his neck, so keen was the edge of the weapon.
“That would be about as far as I’d venture to move, if I was you, chum,” the man holding the dagger said to him in a quiet voice. He was squinting down with malicious delight at Edward. There was an unlit pipe stuck into the corner of his mouth and, now that Edward was awake, he was amazed that he had notsmelledthis man coming. He smelled like nothing so much as a walking twist of pipe tobacco.
Edward’s eyes flicked to his side. Charlotte lay, still asleep, curled snuggly under his warm woolen cloak.
“Now,” said the man with the blade held to Edward’s throat, “when we wake the Captain’s daughter here, we’re goin’ to want you to make sure she doesn’t do nothin’ rash. Savvy?”
Edward gave the smallest nod that he could.
“Good,” said the man. “I get nervous I do, when people start acting erratic, and my hand getseverso shaky, you wouldn’t bloody well credit it.”
The man pressed the wicked blade just a little tighter against Edward’s neck and he felt a bead of blood drip down towards his ear.
“We wouldn’t want you to end up with an injury now, would we?” the man asked, smiling a yellow-toothed smile.
“Not before we return him to Captain Bolton, Savage, that’s for certain,” another, deep and quite melodic, voice said.
Edward’s eyes swiveled to his left. Two other men were standing by the bank of the lake, regarding him thoughtfully. One of them––the man who had just spoken in the rich, rolling voice––was portly and had an elegant mustache. The other man was clean shaven and quite unremarkable.
Except fer his eyes. The man has the same eyes that a cat has when it has a mouse betwixt its paws and means to play with it.
“Wake her up, Mr. Savage,” the man with the calm and murderous eyes said.
“Right you are, Mr. Hirst,” said the foul Savage.
Savage looked at Edward and his sneering smile vanished. “Now, you remember, boy,” he said, “one false move and my hand goes all over the place. Who’s to say whether I slice you…or her.”
Edward nodded to show that he quite took Savage’s meaning. Then he watched as the man took his pipe from the corner of his mouth and poked Charlotte in the ribs with it. The girl stirred, but did not wake. On the second poke she opened her eyes and looked across blearily at Edward.
“Edward,” she said, “good morning. I’m sure there are more gentlemanly ways of waking a lady than digging at her with your finger.”
“Ah,” said the man with the deep, bass voice, taking a step forward, “but, unless I am much mistaken, it looks like dear Edward––that was the name was it?––has been digging at you with more than just that part of his anatomy, Miss Bolton.”
Charlotte’s eyes went wide, and in that instance she took in Edward’s curiously supine posture and the naked knife at his neck. She sat up with a soft scream, clutching at the cloak and pulling it tight around her. Edward was left––not that he really cared too much––totally exposed on the grass.
“Blimey, you’re a big lad, ain’t you?” Savage said. “I bet you’re a fearsome warrior, when you ‘ave all your clothes on and what not. It’s a good thing that you was able to catch this one with his trousers down, Mr. Hirst.”
The man who had said the least stepped forward then. His face was quite unreadable. He was picking daintily at his nails with a small knife. Despite this, Edward got the impression that he was the man that, if he got the chance, he should try and kill first. He had the feeling that Mr. Hirst could inflict more misery with that little dagger than either of the other two combined, even if they were wielding woodsman’s axes.
“I hate to correct you, Savage, but I believe it would be more accurate to say; caught with his kilt off,” Hirst said.
“Very astute observation, Mr. Hirst,” rumbled the other man.
“Thank you, Mr. Sheppard,” Hirst replied graciously.
“Miss Bolton,” Hirst said, directing his gaze at the young woman who was huddling under Edward’s cloak. “We are part of the company under your father’s command. Captain Bolton has sent us to deliver you from your,” and Edward saw him run a disdainful eye over both himself and Charlotte, “yourabductor.”
Edward shifted slightly. Savage, despite his obvious proficiency with his dagger, had been distracted by the exchange between Hirst and Charlotte. The pressure of the knife had lessened somewhat.
“And––and what does my father wish to do with this man?” Charlotte asked, and Edward was glad to hear her try and inject some of her old austerity into her tone.
“Well,” Hirst said, “I really could not go into such details about this Scottish heathen’s fate with a, ah,lady.”
It was clear by the way he said the word “lady,” that this Hirst would quite happily have substituted the word for “wench.” Edward had seen and met his sort before. He might be dressed and presented as well as any English soldier could be, but it was clear to Edward that the man had the heart of a wild beast beating under that crisp white shirt.
“Let us just say, Miss Bolton, that your vile captor here will be good for little more than fish bait by the time your father has finished conducting his interview with him,” Sheppard said.
Edward’s felt his pulse pick up at these words.
