‘I’m pointing a weapon at you, that’s what I’m doing.’
‘I thought you said I wasn’t a monster.’
‘Aye, I said you weren’t the same as the monsters who burnt this village. But you’re still English. I can’t trust you.’ She nodded her head. ‘Kick that rope and dagger to me. I’ll be using them again.’
Concentrating on his movements, rather than his thoughts on what she looked like, Robert slowly kicked the dagger and rope to her.
‘I’m awake this time and you’re all alone,’ he said. ‘Why would I hold still so I can’t protect myself?’
She didn’t take her eyes off him. ‘To prove you aren’t one of the monsters.’
He paused. He knew there was a woman and a boy. He didn’t know if there were any other survivors.
‘It didn’t hold me before,’ he pointed out.
‘I’ll not be making that same mistake twice.’
‘And my sword?’
‘I’ll be keeping it, as well as your dagger.’
He fought the instinct to fight back. She was Scottish, but a woman and she had Alec to protect. She was vulnerable enough without him adding to her fears. Still, too, he needed more answers and she wouldn’t be talking if he was a threat. But if she tied him more tightly, he would be defenceless.
He held his clasped hands in front.
She shook her head. ‘Behind you and turn around.’
‘I’ll need to relieve myself.’
He could feel her weighing his words before she nodded and placed the sword down.
‘For an Englishman, you’re right, you know.’ She slowly walked to him.
He didn’t feel right as he held still for her to bind him again. ‘About what?’
With more twists around his hands, she wrapped the rope around his wrists. She tied more securely this time, but he didn’t clasp his hands tightly and would still be able to loosen the rope. It was dark and she didn’t notice.
‘I’ve been burying the dead,’ she said, stepping away from him. ‘But only at night and my ankle slows me too much.’
He turned around and saw her picking up his sword and dagger. The angle wasn’t the same as before, but his memory was still too fresh and her legs were still too long...and shapely.
‘Why at night?’ He cleared his hoarse voice.
‘I’m trying to hide what I do,’ she answered.
He thought of the boy running past the gravesite. Even at such a tender age, he had to have known what she was doing. ‘You have more to bury.’
‘Aye. I’m afraid the smell is getting so bad I can hardly do it any more.’ Her eyes filled with tears. ‘But I won’t leave Doonhill till it’s done.’
He ignored the conviction in her voice. He had come only to get some answers and report to Edward. Not help her bury her kin.
She pointed towards the door and he turned to leave the hut. Keeping her distance and his sword, she followed afterwards. She held it over her shoulder to support the weight. Robert honed his blade so it could slice full-grown trees. Her neck was no barrier and her ankle made her clumsy.
‘Take my scabbard,’ he offered.
‘It won’t fit around my waist.’
He stopped. ‘Hold the sword like you are, just put it in my scabbard.’
She gave him a look he did not understand, but she did as he asked. After placing the sheathed sword back on her shoulder, they continued walking.
Why he wanted to save her neck, he did not know. ‘Your name’s Gaira?’ he asked instead.
She stiffened. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘I thought Gaira meant—’
‘Short,’ she interrupted. The tension in her shoulders eased. ‘It does. I think my ma had hopes I wouldn’t end up like my brothers.’
She had brothers. Were they the ones killed here or were they camped nearby? He had no intention of being strung up by some Scotsmen.
‘Is the boy safe where he is?’ he asked.
‘Aye, we have seen nae one for almost a week and the camp is somewhat hidden by the forest. He’ll stay there till I return. He has been too frightened to disobey.’ She stopped, shrugged her shoulders. ‘Or maybe too busy eating honeycomb. Do you have a camp?’
‘No, I just arrived.’
‘Will there be other Englishmen?’
‘Shouldn’t you have asked that question before you kidnapped me and walked me to your camp?’
She laughed, but it was the sound of panic and she quickly silenced it.
Not for the first time, he wondered at his acquiescence, but for the first time, he was apprehensive.
She had not revealed if there were others, but he was fairly sure there were not. It had been only her footsteps in the dirt. Still, he could not be certain.
He knew he could protect himself from one Scotswoman, albeit one mercurial in nature. But he could not control the consequences if there were others. He would not shed any more blood here. She might have tied him up and taken his sword, but he still knew how to fight. If there were more, he needed to leave. ‘Give pardon, but I fear—’
‘Ach, I won’t have you afeared. You’ll stay where I stay. And I’ll not be biting you. You’re too hairy for that.’
He blinked, not understanding the direction of her thoughts, until he remembered his overgrown beard and long hair. Hairy. Something rumbled inside him. Laughter. She had almost made him laugh.
Gaira kept glancing over her shoulder at the stranger who quietly followed her. No, not quiet. Contemplative. Dark. He was dark like the bottom of a turbulent river. This man, though seemingly tranquil, was as forceful and powerful under his surface as any Scottish river. It made her nervous that he hid it.
He hadn’t said a word since he’d retrieved his horse. Now he walked behind her with the huge horse in tow. She had his dagger and sword, but the horse was laden with a larger sword, blankets and two pouches, one she was sure jangled with coins. He was quiet, but she could almost feel his thoughts. She tried to stop biting her lip.
She had invited a stranger to the camp. An English soldier, who talked of peace but walked with his sword drawn and carried more weapons on his horse. But she had to invite him. What else could she do?
If he truly meant her harm, all he had to do was follow her to camp and catch her unawares. It was best to keep him tied and close. But close did not mean stupid and she had some talking to do first.
She whirled around to face him. He stopped just as suddenly and looked at her expectantly.
* * *
Robert watched the woman staring at him. In less than an hour she had displayed several emotions: bravery, fear, gentleness, affection and humour. Now a myriad of expressions were crossing her face, the dominant one being determination. She clearly wanted to tell him something, but didn’t know how to say it. He felt the heady rush of anticipation. It had been a long time since anyone had intrigued him.
But then he saw them.
Behind her was a crude camp. A fire blazed around a steaming cauldron. The fire was strong and the moon was full. Both provided enough illumination.