Ivor didn’t try to get her to talk more. He made sure she ate and went out of his way to make sure she was comfortable. He spoke a little of the path they would take, and he didn’t seem to mind her near-monotonous answers.
Eventually, after she’d eaten until her stomach ached and drank her fill, sleep beckoned. She’d been trying to hide her shivering as the night got colder, but he noticed. Without a word, Ivor removed his cloak and draped it over her shoulders.
It was still warm from his body and made of good fur, and for a while, it kept her from freezing. But the Highland nights are cold, and her shivers commenced in earnest while Ivor snored on the other side of the fire. When the flames died, her teeth began to chatter, so loudly she feared she might attract wild animals who would tear them both apart.
“Eithne?” Ivor whispered. “Is that ye making that racket?”
“I—I’m—f—fine—” she stuttered, pulling the cloak as tight around her as she could.
Ivor grunted and moved closer to her. Before she knew what was happening, he’d wrapped his bear-like arms around her, sharing his body heat, drawing her back to his chest. “Is this all right?” he asked, obviously still half-asleep.
I should pull away. I shouldnae encourage such things.
But she was freezing, and scared, and alone, and the touch of his body against her own was more than any person in her situation could resist. And so she wiggled closer, taking the warmth he offered, eagerly wrapping herself in him as he held her tight.
His hands moved on her skin and over her clothes, rubbing her warm again, and every spot he touched was setting her aflame. She had the mad urge to turn around and face him, to ask him to warm her lips with his, her neck, her breasts…
It was a troubled night, but eventually, exhaustion won, and she went to the land of dreams.
* * *
Eithne woke before Ivor as the cold light of day shone on her closed eyelids. For a moment, she didn’t know where she was. All she knew was she was safe and secure, wrapped in the arms of someone who would protect her, who’d keep her warm – where she was supposed to be.
For a moment, she was content.
And then it all came flooding back at once – her family, her clan, the cruelty of Rory MacDuff. She shivered, and in his sleep, Ivor tightened his embrace.
Ivor. The strange mercenary who came from naewhere to save me miserable life.
Part of her would have been perfectly content to lie here in the warmth of his arms forever, but the more sensible part of herself took over as sleep faded from her mind. Slowly, careful not to wake him, she wiggled out from the entanglement.
When she was free, she glanced around their makeshift camp. The fire had long since died, and both Ivor and the horse slept soundly. He’d indicated that he had spare clothing in one of his travel bags. It would be much too large for her, of course, but he’d suggested she could use one of his shirts as a makeshift dress.
Well, anything would be better than her torn, bloodstained outfit now. She found a dark brown oversized shirt made of sackcloth and carried it with her. It was easy to find the river; the sound of the water in the morning quiet led her right to its side.
It was beautiful, but the current was fast – too fast to bathe. The white waves of the water-horses would have pulled her under and ended her life before she could even take a breath. Before she could panic, though, she saw it – a little further down, the water pooled in a gloriously clear spring, perfect for the weary traveler. The glistening water shone invitingly, and Eithne could resist no longer.
She stripped her ruined clothes away, enjoying the sun-warmed air on her skin even as the coldness made her nipples harden and her skin break out in gooseflesh.
The water will be even colder, but I’ll relish it. Maybe it’ll finally start to wash away all that has happened to me.
The shirt and rope that she had taken from Ivor’s bag, she hung over a nearby tree branch, safe from creatures who might be curious enough to nibble at it while she bathed. She emptied her few belongings from her pockets, resting them at the foot of the tree.
Then, naked as the day she was born, she headed to the spring and stepped into the water. It was like ice against her skin, but she did not recoil. It caressed first her ankles, then her waists, and finally her breasts, taking all of her inside its cold embrace.
She waded for a moment, then touched her matted hair. After a moment, she took a deep breath and plunged so that every part of her was entirely submerged.
Perhaps, at last, I can be clean.
Chapter Five
The River
Ivor panicked slightly when he opened his eyes, and she wasn’t there, but it passed quickly. He saw his bag lying open and his spare shirt missing and knew immediately that Eithne must have gone to clean the filth from her hair and clothes.
Stretching, he sat up, looking at the filly who was still tied to the tree, patiently waiting for her morning feed. “Aye, aye, I’m coming,” he groaned, pulling himself to his feet. He found his feed bag amongst his belongings and took it to the creature, patting her neck.
The horse whinnied in appreciation, nudging against him affectionately before digging into her breakfast.
