Page 1 of The Highlander's Fake Wife
1
“Ye cannae get away from us, lassie!”
Olivia snorted through her nose, wanting nothing more than to spit a retort back. A ragged gasp clawed cold air against her chest, and she bit back her temper to focus on navigating the overgrown path ahead. Weaving between the trees was hard enough; she didn’t need to distract herself further with formulating witty barbs to hurl at her pursuers.
Everything she had was dedicated to avoiding the skeletal grasp of low-hanging branches, of twisted and gnarled roots determined to snag her feet and bring their chase to a grinding halt. And then, of course, there was her mother to worry about.
She felt her arm jerk backwards and Olivia bit back a curse, forcefully spun around to watch her mother stumble once more to the ground. It was like being chained to a fallen oak, the once-proud wife of Laird MacCulloh now deadweight as she knelt over on the ground, gasping wildly.
“Nay, Maither–!” Olivia dropped to her knees as well, grasping her mother’s hands as she begged desperately. “Please, we cannae stop yet!”
Her mother squeezed her hand weakly, still unable to speak between greedy gulps of air. For a moment, Olivia couldn’t help but stare at her, taking in the heavy lines of her face, the strands of familiar, fiery hair, streaked with white and falling free from its updo. It was like looking into a mirror, staring at a future with eyes a far more crystalline blue than her own. For a moment, all Olivia could see was her own fatigue, reflected in her mother’s age.
The flickering heads of torchlight broke through the veil of night, and Olivia shook free from her stupor. She allowed herself a proper swear this time and began to tug on her mother’s arm, desperate to get her back upright.
“Ye have to leave me,a sheòid,”her mother finally managed to hiss out. “Yer quicker than me; ye can outrun ‘em.”
“Dinnae make me choose that, Maither. We can do this, just–just hold on a little longer.” Olivia urged whatever strength she had to well forth and fill her mother’s being. Miraculously, the pair managed to get back onto their feet, and she turned to try and break into a run once more. Only, this time, her mother’s grasp didn’t hold her back, but caught her from crashing to the ground.
Again, Olivia swore, her legs trembling beneath her and heavier than lead. Again, the thought entered her mind–of surrender, ofsimply stopping and letting fate run its course–and her fatigue crept up the length of her spine, pressing against her in a nefarious bid to keep her sprawled out across the ground.
“Olivia,” Her mother helped her back up this time, pulling the pair deeper into the dense brush. “My brave bairn,mo laochain–they’re nae lookin’ for an old woman to take back with them.”
Olivia shook her head furiously. “Dinnae start with me. I willnae leave ye–!” Her voice caught in the back of her throat at the sound of crashing leaves, and she pulled her mother farther into the overgrowth. Torchlight quickly broke through into their grove, the shouts of their pursuers deafening now as they drew close.
“Listen to me, Olivia” her mother’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Run far, far ahead, then meet me at the convent in two days’ time.”
“M-Maither…”
“Dinnae argue with me,” Her mother hissed, desperately fighting to keep her voice low. “I–I cannae go on if I dinnae ken ye’re safe. Now, ye remember the way? From yer rides with yer faither?”
Olivia hesitated, unable to speak past the growing lump in her throat.
“I ken it looks different atop horseback, but–but ye must be safe.” Her mother’s tone was on the edge of begging. “Please, love, I need you to listen–”
“–Get out here, ye wee MacCulloh!” One of their pursuers called out. “Yer faither’s sins still have to be paid fer!”
“How ye like being hunted, lass?” Another cackled. “Nae any fun, aye?”
“Least it’s nae a Laird,” someone growled close by. “Ol’ MacDonnell’s ruthless in a fight.”
Olivia’s hands trembled in her mother’s grasp, biting her lip furiously as the torches drew closer. It was all a nightmare, some terrible figment of her overreactive imagination.
“Well, we can be just as frightening, cannae we?” The first man sneered. “After all, MacDonnell only kills ye; we’re nae lettin’ that pretty wee thing off so easily.”
“Lot to pay fer, after all,” the second agreed.
“An’ pay fer, an’ pay fer, till our beds split in two!” the third howled with laughter.
Yes, a nightmare; Olivia would soon wake up back in her own bed, back behind the thick, sturdy walls of MacCulloh’s keep. She’d hear her father and brother’s spirited debating from downstairs, their laughter followed by the mouthwatering smellof square sausages cooking over the hearth. Instead, the acrid burn of animal fat stuck to the back of her throat, and it took all she had not to scream as a torch waved above the women' s heads.
Her mother suddenly lunged forward, tackling into the closest man. They both hit the ground with a hard thud, a crunch of bone chorusing with the thickplopof the now-snuffed torch sinking into mud. Darkness briefly obscured the area, and instinct quickly overtook Olivia.
She scrambled beneath the brush and slipped behind the wide base of a tree, using its trunk to pull back upright before taking off into the forest once more. Behind her, an orange glow filled the grove she once stood at, the air filled with shouts of outrage.
“We’ll meet again,” Olivia promised, though it was less for her mother’s sake and more for her own. She had to believe they’d reunite in two days’ time; for now, all her efforts had to be on putting as much distance as possible between herself and her pursuers.
While it was a relief to no longer see an orange glow trailing behind her, Olivia had to admit that such a light source would be incredibly handy right now. The night only grew darker with each passing minute, the moon obscured by the forest’s canopy.
