Beside them stood a tall man, dressed in trews, shirt, waistcoat, and a dark jacket. He towered over the man holding onto her. In his hand was a flintlock pistol, with the silver barrel gleaming in the moonlight trained on the man behind her.
“I wouldnae be so certain about that,” the man smiled full of threat with a thick Scottish accent. He lowered the pistol and shot at the ground by their feet.
The man jumped, releasing her enough to stumble away. She staggered on her feet, barely aware as she felt the Scottish stranger take her arm and heave her behind him. Then, he reared forward, with one hard strike, he thumped the man in the nose. The thief reeled backward for a second, then fell to the ground, trying to scramble away on his back.
Laura lifted her eyes to see there were other Scottish travelers around her, four other men who were now joining the fray. They each set upon one of the thieves, scaring them enough to make the ruffians retreat down the road.
“Bloody Scots!” The man who had held the blade at Laura’s throat threw the insult in the air. At the words, the Scottish man who had torn her away from his grasp strode forward threateningly, as though he would deliver another blow, but it seemed to do enough.
The thief ran back down the street, on the coattails of his friends.
“What was that about?” One of the Scottish travelers turned to the one that had pulled her free.
“I told ye, Dearg,” he shook his head. “This is nae a safe place to be.”
“Aye, aye, very well,” Dearg admitted, holding his hands up in surrender. Whereas Dearg had an amiable countenance with bright red hair and blue eyes, the man he was talking to had dark red hair and a much sterner manner. “I was hardly expectin’ this though, was I?”
“Thieves descendin’ on a young boy? Why would ye? Any decent human bein’ wouldnae think of it, but we are nae in a decent place now,” the man turned, and his eyes found Laura as he replaced the flintlock pistol in his belt. She was startled by the strength of his green gaze. He stepped toward her, with those green eyes darting up and down her for a second. “Ye all right there, laddie?”
Laura swallowed as she considered the question. Her clothes were ruffled by the encounter, and her body was shaken, but she was not injured. One of her hands went from the strap of her satchel bag to the place on her neck where the blade had been held at her throat, but she had suffered only a graze.
“I am fine, thank you for…” she trailed off and gestured at the road where the thieves had disappeared.
“Ye shouldnae be out here by yerself,” the Scottish traveler walked toward her.
Laura knew that at such close distance, she should be pulling her hat lower, trying to hide her eyes for fear of discovery that she was a girl, but she found she could not. She could not help looking out boldly from the hat brim to stare at the stranger’s face.
I have never seen anyone like him before.
With a square and angular jaw, he had sharp features that could make his anger plain as day, though they had softened now, and Laura was dazed by the handsomeness in those features, in particular the green eyes that were still looking over her.
“Aye, easy target,” another one of the Scottish travelers moved to her side. This one was shorter than the others, with fair hair tied into a ponytail at the back of his head. “Placed yerself in danger.”
Laura flinched at the words, hating the insinuation she could not look after herself, despite what had happened moments before.
“I was heading for the coaching inn,” she gestured to the building behind them, speaking with a harsh tone. “I hardly expected such a thing to happen, did I?”
“A little foolish,” the handsome Scot remarked though a smirk teased his lips as he said it. She flicked her eyes back toward him, disarmed momentarily from finding an immediate retort as she gazed at his features again.
“Perhaps, but I would rather live my life believing in the good of strangers rather than the bad.”
“Still sounds foolish to me,” his smile was growing greater now.
“And what of yourselves?” She pointed to them. “You are strangers to me too, yet you would do me the kindness of helping me out.”
“Aye, very well, I take yer point,” the handsome Scot admitted. “Ye best get inside, laddie before any more thieves come this way.”
“You are staying here too?” she asked in surprise as the Scot took hold of her shoulder and turned her toward the building.
“Aye.”
The group filtered in through the door, with Laura and the handsome Scot trailing at the back.
“Will you tell me your name?” She could see her words were met with surprise as he hovered in the doorway. “I wish to know who I am indebted to.”
“Erskine,” he replied. “And yers?”
“Billie,” the word came out quickly. It was the name of one of the servants in her father’s employment and the first name that came to mind.
