The Bruised Thistle (The Order of the Scottish Thistle) (9 page)

Seumas had known she was naïve, but now her ignorance threatened him. He could have been ambushed if the abductors had not done such a bad job of sneaking up on them. But
was
it ignorance? He stopped in his tracks. Could it be she did not want him to know? Perhaps because she did not trust him? Mayhap she believed he would turn them in for the ransom? He turned back to her. She was whispering with Calum as he helped her get to a secluded spot. Did she think he would do that?

“Do not go far,” Seumas called out to her. “I am not sure how far we are from the next village.”

She turned back with a smile. He growled under his breath. Nobility could not be trusted. They did not even think like the rest of the population. If he was right, she was playing him for her own purposes.

With narrow
ed eyes, he watched her return from the woods. “It appears the generous price on yer heads is hard to refuse. Last night, I stopped three men from sneaking in and snatching ye both up where ye slept.”

The look on her face was well worth the frontal attack—her eyes were wide and her jaw dropped in disbelief. She was shocked by the revelation.

He smiled at her response. “Ye do appear a bit pale, Iseabail. Are ye not well?”

“They were going to abduct us?” Not “there’s a price on our heads?” He was correct. She had not wanted him to know.

“That is what they said.”

“You talked to them?”

“Was that right before you knocked them out?” Calum chimed in, his enthusiasm barely contained.

“I overheard them talking. I do not know if they will follow us.” He searched the path they had come from. “Is it yer uncle who is offering the reward for yer return?”

“Yea.” Iseabail rubbed her hands together.

Despite his anger, he could feel his ire rising in her defense. He wanted to reassure her, even though she certainly did not deserve it.

“I have a friend two days’ ride from here. He retains his own council and might be willing to help ye. He is a good man.”

Why had he added that? She frowned at him, perhaps wondering the same thing.

He continued. “His lady wife is a well-known healer from Ireland.” Elisabeth’s face came to mind. She had helped heal Mark’s broken heart after the death of his own father. Perhaps she could assist Seumas, too. “If they cannot aid ye, they will know where ye can find what ye are looking for.”

“You will take us to them?” She stopped chafing her hands. Her gaze was intense.

A man could get lost in those eyes. He felt a stirring below his tartan. “I will bring ye and yer brother to them then I will continue on my way. Ye will have to fend for yerself after that.”

“Where will you be going?” Calum asked.

“I am returning home.” He swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. “I have not been there since my return from the Crusades.”

Calum’s eyebrows rose. “You were in the Crusad—?”

“Why does your friend need his own counsel?” Iseabail demanded.

Seumas paused. Iseabail’s question was less painful to answer. “He needs protection against people who would take advantage of him and his position. His father has worked for the English king.” Seumas sat down beside her. “How is yer leg feeling?”

Calum came over to them with the water skin, now near to bursting with fresh water.

“I am better, much stronger. Thank you.” She glanced at his legs and smiled at him.

Calum dropped in front of him and did the same thing.

“What are ye two looking at?” Seumas stood and adjusted his kilt. He found the small bag, his sporran, and placed it around his hips before he looked at both of them. “Well?”

Iseabail raised her eyebrows in surprise. Was it his surly manner? She shook her head. “You were not wearing a kilt the last time I saw you. Very becoming.” She blushed.

“I have not felt worthy to dress as a true Scotsman until now.” He adjusted the pin at his shoulder. “If ye are ready, we should be leaving.”

They followed the path, moving away from the river though they could still hear it in the distance. The sun shone through the trees, adding to the enjoyment of the warm fall day. The damp smell of the river eventually shifted to the smells of drying leaves and fall flowers. A few holly bushes with bright red berries lined the deer path as they headed north. The birds sang in the trees that surrounded them on all sides. Before long, they would backtrack to the east, to his friend.

Seumas had to admit he was walking on clouds. His bare legs felt tremendously stronger. no longer confined in the breeches the Lowlanders had taken such a liking to. The warm breeze on his nether parts was as sweet as the smell of the heather he hoped to see soon. All was right with the world.

Settled on top of Seumas’s horse, Iseabail watched him as he led them through the barren forest. His broad shoulders shook again with laughter. He and Calum were having a grand time with their jokes and stories. She scowled. So be it. They were men. They could set aside their concerns and make the most of it. She was the one who had to sit and brood over what to do.

A sudden movement in the woods set her heart to pounding. She whipped her head to the side and searched for the source. Then she realized Calum had tossed a stick into the trees.

Fear. She was sick of being afraid but it seemed never-ending. She had almost been abducted. Her breath quickened. If Seumas had not been there, they would now be on their way back to their uncle. His leering smile flashed in her mind. She shivered. How could she protect herself? She had no way other than to count on someone else. Iain had warned her not to trust anyone. Would her brother have wanted her to trust Seumas?

“Seumas?” She called down, interrupting their conversation. “You said you were in the Crusades?”

Seumas stopped the animal and stood beside her, his large hand on the horse’s mane, a hair’s breadth from her leg.

She smiled tensely before continuing. “I am sorry. I did not mean to interrupt you and Calum.”

Seumas turned toward Calum, a furrow in his brow. “Ye were not interrupting us, lassie. Is there something ye needed?”

His bright blue eyes held her gaze. In her mind’s eye, she saw again the determined look in those eyes right before he had kissed her.

She coughed. “Thank you.” She adjusted herself, trying to regain her confidence and put thoughts of their kiss aside. His lips had been so warm. She squirmed in the saddle. “Um, well, I was wondering if you had trained many men on your pilgrimage to the Holy Land.” She held her breath. His answer was suddenly important to her.

He appeared perplexed, the crease deepening as he searched her face. He hesitated before answering. “Why?”

Damn. He could not possibly have made it easy and said, ‘Oh aye, I have trained many men. Why? Do ye know someone who needs training?’ She blew out a puff of air. He was waiting for an answer with a slight smirk on his face. Was he laughing at her?

“No. No reason. I wondered.” She looked straight ahead, hoping he would return to the lead and pretend she had not interrupted their fun. Her stupid ideas. Did she think she could just ask him to teach her how to defend herself?

Seumas was not going to accommodate her wishes. He stood unmoving, staring at her, though she refused to look back at him.

Calum strode over to stand behind Seumas. “
Is something amiss?” He glanced between the two of them.

“Can ye see to the horse, Calum?” Without any advance warning, Seumas pulled her from the saddle, quite firmly, and deposited her beside him. “I believe we need a rest.”

Finally glancing at his face, Iseabail recognized the anger that compressed his lips.

“Yea, m’lord.” Calum picked up the horse’s lead. “Come on, Sweet Pea.”

Seumas whipped his head toward the boy, his eyebrows shooting to his hairline. “The horse’s name is not Sweet Pea.”

Iseabail bit her lip to keep from laughing.

Calum looked at Seumas with wide, innocent eyes but did not say a word.

Stepping back from the horse, Seumas put his hands on his hips and grunted. “Calum, my horse is called Anselm.” His words were measured and calm.

Calum’s eyebrows rose at the name, but he shrugged. “Aye, then, come along…Anselm.” He pronounced the name with an added stress on the ‘m.’ He led the horse to the nearby meadow to let it crop the tall grass.

Iseabail giggled at Calum’s exaggerated pronunciation of the unfamiliar name.

Seumas folded his arms across his chest and watched until they walked out of sight. He faced her suddenly, his body stiff. “What are ye about, Iseabail?”

“I do not know what you mean.”

“Why are ye asking about the pilgrimage?”

Discomfited by his glare, she gazed at the grou
nd. “I am sorry if I offended you. I do not know much about the journey, but clearly it is not something you wish to discuss.”

There was a long silence. Her gaze remained fixed on her shoes. All she wanted to ask was if he could help her not be so damn vulnerable. Maybe she could learn to use the blade Iain had given her. It was not much good if she did not know how to use it.

Seumas shifted his feet, waiting for her to look at him, no doubt. He had a long wait in store. He could cut her to the quick with those eyes, not to mention seeing into her soul. So why did he not realize she wanted him to teach her how to defend herself?

She swallowed hard and opened her mouth before she lost what little nerve she had. “It is for our
safety. I wondered if you could help me.”

There. Now she had said it and, in fact, it did not seem so bad. Men did not take kindly to women believing they could do everything for themselves, But this man would surely not care. He was not her family. She was not his to protect. He might even be glad if she could defend herself. He could leave then. A wave of sadness swept through her. She did not want to see him go.

“Is that such a terrible thing to ask?” She knew it might be, even to Seumas. Iain would have been beside himself if she had asked such a thing. Did he take such pride in being able to defend her only because she was his sister? She thought not. Iain thought he should be the defender of all women.

Seumas exhaled slowly, apparently cooling his anger. He stared at her, assessing her, his head tilted to one side. “No, lass, it is not a terrible thing ye ask. Ye are in a bad way, from as much of yer story as I know. Fighting tactics are not something I would want to impart to a woman. No man would. Men are stronger, and if a woman thought she could fight a man, she would lose. If she angered him by trying to fight him, her loss would be even greater, if ye understand my meaning.”

She understood his meaning all too well. He offered his arm to lean on as he led her to a tree stump to settle upon. Then he paced, glancing at her every now and again though he remained utterly silent. She finally stopped looking to see if he would say something every time he paused. She picked at the mushrooms growing beside the tree, wondering which ones were safe to eat. A big black bug decided the one she had just decimated was the perfect one for him. She picked up a rock and squished him.

“A bit savage, are ye?” Of course Seumas had decided to pay attention to her at that moment.

“He was just an ugly bug.” She was losing her patience. “Are we ready to go on now?”

He squatted in front of her and took her hands. “Ye have lovely hands, Iseabail.”

His husky voice sent a shiver to the pit of her stomach. She smelled his musky odor and held his gaze, her tongue darting out to wet her dry lips. His gaze dropped to follow the movement. She pressed her lips together, and he inhaled sharply.

He cleared his throat. “So ye want to learn to defend yerself? Against whom?” He rubbed little circles into her wrists. “Do ye think ye might have been able to fight off the men who
came to abduct ye last night?” She started to nod, but he slowly shook his head. “Ye would not have been able to, lass. No matter who trained ye. They were determined to get ye and use ye anyway they could.”

Tears welled up in her eyes. “So I can have no protection at all? People can make up lies about me and come to take me to prison, but I have no recourse?”

His blue eyes rounded as if her words had hurt him.

She spoke more quietly. “Right now you are here…” She looked at his big hands surrounding hers. “What about when you are not?”

She watched, intrigued, as he took her hand to his mouth. Turning it over, he kissed her palm. Then he did the same to the other hand. Her breathing was shallow. She wanted his mouth on hers. She wet her lips then nibbled her bottom one.

“Ah, Iseabail, ye are a lovely lass. A treasure to be sought after and protected. Tell me why yer uncle wants ye back so badly that he would put such a high price on yer head?”

She closed her eyes in frustration. This was not what she wanted, to be reminded of her uncle and the lies being told about her. She wanted Seumas’s lips on hers. She wanted him to hold her and caress her. A moan of longing escaped her mouth, and her eyes flew open.

He stared at her wide-eyed. He had heard her.

Her hand flew to stifle her gasp. She leaped up, leaning on the tree for support, and turned her back to him. What a fool. Tears poured down her face. He touched her shoulder, but she pulled away.

“I shall give ye a few moments,” Seumas murmured before he walked away.

Iseabail collapsed against the tree, sobbing without a sound. This was sheer hell.

*****

After Seumas got them moving again, he could not help thinking about Iseabail’s request. Her sobs had broken his heart, but she’d taken him by surprise with her request. Just the mention of the pilgrimage had his defenses rearing up. Thoughts of his travels lay like a rock in his gut, and he did not want to relive them. He wanted happier memories from his childhood, when he knew nothing about the world firsthand. When he had still been excited about life.

The piercing cry of a hawk rent the quiet surroundings. When the large shadow passed over him, Seumas closed his eyes. He could again smell the incense drifting through the cold interior of the monastery where he had spent much of his youth. Many a lesson had been presented with a hawk as the central creature of Uncle Peter’s stories.

With bare walls and floors, the monastery was such an unwelcoming place. In his own home, his mother’s colorful tapestries hung in every room. It always seemed warm and pleasant. And yet every time he went to visit Uncle Peter and the other monks, they were always smiling.

The hawk swooped close to Seumas, catching its meal in long talons. Seumas glanced back. Iseabail was staring into the woods. She ignored him. Calum had been talking without a break since they had started walking again, clearly sensing the tension though he probably did not understand it. Seumas did not either.

He wished he had been able to see Uncle Peter before he had left for the pilgrimage. Perhaps Peter would have been able to make Seumas understand where his father had failed, even convincing him that going was not as noble a gesture as he had believed. Seumas might have listened to his uncle. He had certainly ignored his father, though he had tried hard enough to convince Seumas not to go.

“Ye do not need to show ye are a man by doing this.” He still heard his father’s brusque tone. “We need ye here, son.”

“The Lord needs me there, father. Why can ye not see that?”

“How do ye know He needs ye there? Has someone other than Giles told ye as much? Have ye felt it in yer own heart or are ye being led astray by yer friendship with Giles, who, by the way, is not half—no,” his father corrected himself, “is not a quarter the man ye are, Seumas.”

Seumas had stopped in his packing to smile at his father. “I thank ye for the compliment. I know ye have no love in yer heart for Giles, but I am glad he brought the news of this pilgrimage to me. Was yer own father not a participant in such a trek? Do ye not speak of him in glowing terms? Why can ye not see I want to do the same?”

“It is
not
the same.” His father had never raised his voice to him before. “It does not feel right to me. I question where this pilgrimage is going and what its true purpose will be.”

Seumas had ignored the warning that might have changed his life. “Methinks ye worry unnecessarily.” He had tied his sack shut and slung it over his shoulder. “But fear not, God will be with us and we will persevere.”

Seumas sighed, his heart heavy with the memory. What a fool he had been. It was the last time he had seen his father alive and he had been right. It was a foolish, ill-gotten scheme, not a holy war Seumas had found himself involved in.

Seumas felt Iseabail’s angry gaze on him from her perch atop the horse. He was exhausted but did not dare stop to rest. Not yet. They needed to put more distance between them and her abductors.

Perhaps he should have killed them.

No. He had had enough killing.