Page 8 of Highlander’s False Identity

The girl’s hands were still fastened tight behind her back, and she could not use them to brush the tears away.

Seeing her distress, Beathan felt a pang in his heart. He slowed Prince, bringing him to a halt and dismounted, before walking around to offer the girl a handkerchief.

“Here,” he said, wiping the tears from her cheeks.

“Thank you,” she said in a small voice, her blue-gray eyes watching his every move unwaveringly.

Beathan hesitated for a moment. She looked genuine enough, but did he trust her enough to loosen her bonds? For a minute, he looked unsure.

“I wouldnae blame ye if ye didnae,” she said quietly. “I’ve been naught but a wee bawbag ever since ye clapped eyes on me!”

Beathan finally unpicked the knots at the back of her hands. The girl smiled her thanks, but he could see that she still looked upset.

“I didnae mean him to suffer! I never kent ye were going to give the meat to a dog!” she wept, distraught. “It was only a joke between some of the lasses… to give one of the lads the runs for a day or two… it wasnae even my idea – I swear!” she carried on, her cheeks shining with tears.

“What, wait, ye mean ye did give us poison?” he asked, turning to face her.

“If I’d kent that a dog was gonnae eat it I never would…,” Edme protested, her eyes wide opened.

“Och, so it was alright to poison me then!” he glared accusingly.

“Nae, nae,” the girl said, her voice high with passion. “It wasnae a poison exactly, as much as a root…”

“A root?” Beathan said, interested. For the last seven years, he had wanted to know what the treacherous maid had slipped him!

He stared at the girl, trying to fathom the thoughts in her pretty head. How could a lass so bonny be so sly?

“Ye mean, like a love potion?” Beathan said, wryly. “I think yer brother might have said something about that. After all, I couldnae blame ye for wanting to enchant me!”

It was only said in jest, but to Beathan’s great surprise, a ripple passed through the girl’s features. Something had needled her.

“Och, ye think a lot of yersel’, Beathan Craig an’ ye always did!” she snapped, her high voice breaking a little.

“I could say the same to ye, lass! At least I didnae try to bewitch someone!” he retorted.

He gave her a pointed glance, before walking back towards the horse, mounting him with a single leap. Digging his hands in tight to the reins, he started them forward.

By the look on her face, Beathan could see he had spooked her, although he couldn’t work out for the life of him what he had said to elicit such a reaction.

The girl appeared to be struggling as if debating with herself about what to say next. Eventually, she burst out.

“Love potion! What a load of codswallop! It was only meant to make ye kek yersel’, Romeo!” she added, enlivened with rage.

“Och well, that’s totally alright then! Well, it did a wee bit more than that!” Beathan replied. He wouldn’t look at her fully, not yet. He wasn’t entirely done with her.

Now he stopped to look around behind at her, clutching on tight to the back of the horse. They were cantering through the crags and ditches of the hillside a little more speedily now, as the path took them through rougher terrain.

Every now and then, clutches of trees dipped in and offered their shade, the hazy winter sun seeping in through the bare branches. As they went by, Beathan pushed aside the branches of trees just beginning to go into bud for the season ahead. In a few short weeks, this hillside would be alive with a verdant shade of green, reenergizing the jaded glen side.

The girl seemed to have fallen quiet, as if in a reverie, on the back of the horse. Once or twice he had to glance back at her, to check she was still tied securely to the horse and that in loosening her hands, she had not succeeded in getting free. But it seemed as if she had abandoned all thoughts of escape.

“H’mm?” Beathan intoned, casting her a curious glance before continuing, in his best hurt voice. “An’ yer lucky it was only a dog an’ not me who ate it. Did ye nae think about what would happen if ye murdered a laird’s heir?”

“Och, I didnae want to murder anyone! I told ye! It was just a game! I never meant to hurt anyone, especially not an animal!” the girl said, still visibly distressed.

Seeing her face for the second time brought Beathan up cold. If he had previously thought she might have been faking this just to try and get away, now he was not so sure.

“How… did he die?” she asked, in a small voice, her face pale, all the color drawn from her skin.