When Fate Dictates (4 page)

“Oh, aye?” he said in his deep husky voice,
cocking one eyebrow at me in amusement. The heat rose up my neck
and face as he watched me intently. “Tell me, lass, how old are
you?” he eventually asked.

“Eighteen, why do you ask?” I replied.

“No reason, only I was thinking you have much
to learn of life.”

“What of it?” I said defensively, “And don’t
look at me like that; I am not a child you know.”

“Oh, aye, wee Corran, I know that well
enough,” he said, sliding both hands into the pockets of his
trousers. The color burned once more in my cheeks and instinctively
I raised my hands to cover them. He moved toward me, kneeling in
front of me so close that I could smell the deep musky warmth of
his body. Tenderly cupping my wrists in his hands he moved them
gently away from my face. “I am a soldier lass, and not innocent in
matters of life. Corran, you cannot possibly know... I mean... ” He
had whispered my name so quietly I could hardly hear him, and then
he broke off, shaking his head and ruffling his hair with his large
hands.

“Know what Simon?”

“Oh, it doesn’t matter,” he sighed, tossing
the carcass of the hare into the flames of the fire. Looking away
uneasily, he pushed himself up with his knees and turned toward a
small stream.

Squatting on his haunches in front of the
stream, he peeled his shirt off his shoulders and dropped it to the
ground. Bending forwards, he plunged his large steely hands into
the cold water of the stream; seconds later he stood drenched. The
long black curls of his hair dripped heavy streams of icy water
onto the wide expanse of his chest. Small droplets that caught in
the dark curling hair in the bulk of his chest glistened in the
sunlight. I watched as the taut muscles of his broad shoulders and
arms flexed and rippled with each movement of his body. Blushing, I
turned away and started to clear our camp.

It was early afternoon and the mist and fog
still hung heavily in the air, trapped in the folds of the
mountains around us. Our journey had become more perilous with
every day that had passed. I found myself staggering along the icy
moor, longing to curl up against the side of a rock and go no
further. Chilled and aching, I battled through the snow-covered
ground and driving winds. Simon held out his hand to help me up an
icy slope but before I could take it, I lost my footing and felt
myself falling backwards. With a heavy thud, my head hit a mound of
rocks; my arm crushed beneath me as I crumpled painfully to the
ground. Dazed, I tried to move, putting my hand out to push myself
up, but my arm gave way with the weight of my body. My head
throbbed, and I could feel the warmth of blood from the wound as it
seeped through the tangled mass of my hair. The sky swirled above
me, my eyes fought to focus and I opened my mouth to cry out, but
no sound followed. Dimly, I realized that I was about to die. As
life drifted from my body and all conscious thought became dreams,
my mind instinctively wandered to the snow-covered mountains of my
home. Then in those final moments of life, the hazy memory of the
silver antlers of the great mountain stag became clearer and I
prayed to God that he might send it to me before darkness descended
upon my world forever.

******

Quietly, I heard a distant echo of his voice
whispering my name. It slowly drew nearer and louder, until I knew
for sure it was him. As the first shock of returning consciousness
left me, I became aware of his hands on my shoulders; his face so
close to mine that I could feel his breath on my cheeks and the
gentle husky rumble of his voice trembled in my ear. I blinked in
an effort to focus on his face. His eyes were staring fearfully
into mine; deep troubled lines furrowed his brow. I opened my mouth
to speak, but he raised a finger gently to my lips.

“Hush, don’t try to speak.” He sat watching
me for some time, gently stroking my hair. I was lying on my back,
fighting to clear the thumping agony in my head and the throb of my
arm. I put my arm out to push myself up. “No lass, I will help you
to sit up,” he said, sliding his arm behind my back and gently
drawing me to his chest. I felt the color drain from my face as a
wave of dizziness swayed me slightly against him. I felt the knot
of muscles in his arms as they tightened around me. My head relaxed
heavily against his chest and I could hear the beat of his racing
heart against my ear. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply, filling
my lungs with icy air. Slowly the nauseating dizziness left me and
I straightened myself.

“I’m alright now,” I said, as I cautiously
eased myself away from him.

“I should think you will have a banging head
for a while,” he said, rising to stand in front of me. “How you
have come round from that bang I will never know,” he added, with a
slight tremble in his voice. Bending toward me, he put his hands
around my waist and gently lifted me to my feet. He led me
carefully across to the loch side. We knelt by the water’s edge
where I cupped my hand and filled it with the clear liquid, then
splashed it onto my face and shoulder. The cold water helped to
ease the throbbing in my head but my injured arm still hung limply
from my shoulder. Looking up into the distance of the moor, I
stared blankly at the endless miles we had yet to cover and
silently prayed for the strength to see the journey out.

I was jolted from my thoughts by the sudden
appearance on the horizon of a thin gray line of smoke. Grabbing
hold of Simon’s arm, my head turned toward his, and I whispered in
panic. “Fire.” The hairs on my arms rose and a shiver of terror ran
through me. My fingers tightened on his arm as I stood deathly
still, hardly daring to breathe. Taking firm hold of my hand he
started to run, pulling me behind him. I stumbled as my plaid
slipped from my injured shoulder; my feet tangling in its trailing
edge. I pulled my hand from Simon’s and grabbed at the woolen weave
with my good arm, hoisting it back up over my shoulder. My heart
pounded with terror as we dived into the cover of some heather
covered rocks. Gasping for breath I sank to the ground. My arm
burned and my head throbbed so much it felt as though it would
burst. Sitting with my back against a rock for support, I raised my
knees and lowered my head onto them. Tears welled in my eyes and I
sobbed silently.

“Don’t cry it’s not as bad as it looks. I
have a plan, Corran,” he said, gently resting his hand on my knee.
Slowly, I raised my head, wiping my eyes with my hand as I did.

“So what... what would... that be then?” I
choked through sobs.

“I reckon that smoke belongs to a camp of
military transport riders, headed to Blair Castle just over
yonder,” he said, pointing into the distance. He grinned broadly
and I wondered how he could find the idea of a military camp on our
trail a matter to smile about.

I raised my eyebrows. “You think this is a
good thing?”

He nodded, still smiling. “Oh aye, I reckon
it could be a very good thing,” he said. “Will you wait here a
while for me?”

“Why?” I asked.

“Don’t worry your mind with why. Just keep
your eyes open and stay still and quiet till I get back.”

“Where are you going Simon?”

“As I said, never you mind about what or why,
just wait here for me and make sure you are ready when I get
back.”

“Ready for what?” I asked.

“Just... ready,” he replied unhelpfully.

“I really wish you wouldn’t treat me like a
child,” I hissed.

“Then stop behaving like one and start
listening to me,” he said impatiently. “Here, take my plaid, it
will be cold and dark before I get back and you will have need of
it. Take this too. I don’t think you will have any use for it
though.” He reached into the leather bag and pulled out a dirk I
had never seen before. I trembled as I felt the weight of it in my
hand and the warmth of the smooth wooden handle against my skin.
Slowly, I lowered my hand to my lap, laying the knife cautiously on
the folds of my skirt. Sure, I knew how to use a dirk, but only for
the skinning of a meal. What if he didn’t come back? My stomach
cramped and a ghostly chill ran down my spine at the sudden
realization that my life depended completely on him. I forced my
mind away from these thoughts; knowing as I did that all I could do
was wait and pray for his return – from whatever it was he had gone
to do.

I must have fallen asleep because I awoke in
a panic, my hands darting clumsily in the folds of my skirt for the
dirk. I hadn’t had time to locate the knife when a hand gripped my
arm. I froze as the sound of fear pounded in my head.

“Didn’t I tell you to be ready?” a deep voice
whispered in my ear. I realized to my relief and surprise that
Simon had returned.

“And what do you mean sneaking up on me like
that?” I barked, jumping to my feet and swinging angrily round to
where I thought his face would be.

He clapped a hand hard over my mouth from
behind me. I fought angrily; shaking my head and clawing at his
hand, but it stuck firmly in place. Tears welled in my eyes with
the ache in my shoulder as I fought him.

“Stop fighting me,” he commanded in a
strained whisper. I paid him no heed, swinging my leg in an attempt
to kick him.

“Stop. Now!” he whispered his voice dangerous
and deep with warning.

Startled by his tone, I froze, afraid.

“Corran, we need to go, but we need to do it
quietly, do you understand me?” I nodded my head fiercely. He
grabbed hold of my arm and gave an impatient tug. “This way,” he
said, pulling me along beside him.

“Where are we going?” I whispered, as he
unexpectedly stopped and let go of my arm. Squinting, my eyes
adjusted to the darkness to reveal the shadowy silhouette of a
horse. Simon joined his hands at the side of the horse.

“Put your foot on here and get on the horse,”
I raised my left foot, resting it in his hand. I pushed myself off
the ground with my right foot, allowing him to hoist me onto the
horse. Within seconds he was behind me, his thighs pressing tightly
against my hips. He leaned forward, and with a click of his tongue
and slight flick of the reins, the horse moved. I took hold of the
front of the saddle, and tensed my knees against the animal as it
rocked us forward. Moving quickly into a gentle trot it gathered
speed, breaking its gait evenly from a canter to fearsome gallop.
After a few minutes, Simon slowed the horse, pulling hard on the
reins. He turned it sharply toward a stream, expertly using his
heels and reins to encourage the animal forward. We plunged down a
bank and into the stream. I gasped as the cold water leapt around
my ankles, soaking my boots and skirt as the horse lumbered its way
upstream. Finally, Simon turned the animal and headed for the bank
on the far side of the river, guiding the horse upwards. At the top
of the bank, he flicked the reins, dug his heels hard into its ribs
and clenched his thighs, as we broke once more into a gallop.

We rode hard through the night air, and I
quickly lost all sense of direction. Eventually, as the first
glimmers of day began to break in the night sky, Simon pulled on
the reins and the creature began to slow its pace. My body relaxed
against Simon as the frantic jostling of the ride slowed to a
gentle rolling trot. The ground beneath us came into focus and I
wondered dimly how far we had traveled.

“Where are we?” I asked.

I felt his body shake and eventually he
laughed out loud. “I have no idea, but I reckon we are far enough
out of the way now.”

“Far enough out of the way of what?” I asked
impatiently.

“You remember that fire we saw? It did belong
to the military.”

“Oh well then, that explains it,” I said
sarcastically, feeling too tired and sore to play games.

He took the reins with his left hand and
unhitched a leather saddlebag on the side of the horse. “You see
lass, as I expected, they had this in their possession.”

“What is it?” I asked, my curiosity now fully
roused.

“It’s my wages,” he said simply, “and a few
more wages besides, intended for the men I was with. They were
expected three weeks ago but we were told the damn riders got
themselves lost.”

“And this horse?” I questioned.

“Aye, he was theirs too,” he boasted.

“How did you get the money off them
then?”

“It wasn’t that difficult. The guard was too
drunk to keep his eyes on the money, so whilst he was snoring, I
snuck in and took what I wanted. I expect they will have noticed by
now though,” Simon replied, obviously pleased with himself. He
brought the horse to a gentle halt on the edge of a loch,
dismounting swiftly. “I think we should let the creature rest a
while.”

Following his lead, I slid cautiously off the
horse and landed hard on my feet, crying out with pain as the jolt
tore at my injured shoulder. The thudding in my head had also
returned and I raised my good arm to rest my hand soothingly over
my forehead. My clothes hung limply on me, soaked from the river
crossing, and my boots squelched as I took my first tentative steps
in hours on solid ground. Thoroughly exhausted and trembling with
pain, I bent down and removed the sodden boots from my feet;
balancing them carefully on top of a rock to dry, in what I hoped
would prove to be a warm, morning sun.

Meanwhile, Simon was rooting fervently
through the saddlebags, sporting a look of triumphant delight as he
did so. Curiously, I moved over to see what was in the bags. He
handed me a flask and I opened it, sniffing at its content
dubiously.

“You don’t trust it?” he laughed, raising his
eyebrows.

“Mmm, I’m not sure what it is.”

“I should think it's whisky,” he broke off,
taking the flask from me and waving it under his nose. “Probably
not as good as what we had before.” Tipping the flask, he filled
his mouth and swallowed hard. “But it is whisky nonetheless.”