“The witch of the Highlands,” Alistair repeated.
“How do you know that?”
“Because every Highlander knows that.” He ran his hand over his drenched hair and then wiped his face. “When ye were there, what did she tell you?”
“Only a bunch of nonsense,” Jane said, “Now, if you are done with the interrogatory, I would love to find shelter.” She started to walk ahead of him in a different direction from the cottage.
“Where are ye going?” Alistair asked.
Jane turned, and for some reason the way she looked appealed to him. She looked like she had been through a lot but was still strong despite it all, or perhaps because of it. “Your castle,” she returned, matter-of-factly. She cocked her head. “Or have you forgotten that I am your prisoner?” Her tone was proprietary and amusingly condescending, as though she was talking to a halfwit. She continued to walk away.
Alistair laughed. “It is in the opposite direction.”
Jane stopped and turned around. She was clearly embarrassed. Alistair resisted the urge to laugh again. “There is nae need tae be grumpy,” he said. “Like I said before, this is nothing personal.”
The look on her face was both annoyed and angry. “It feels very personal, Alistair, seeing as how your clan killed me uncle, killed innocent soldiers, and has now kidnapped me.”
Through the pelting wetness of the rain, he saw her tense up. Gone was any ounce of playfulness or receptiveness or wonder. Those had been replaced by a darkness that marred her features and, for some odd reason, disturbed him. “Why dae ye keep bringing yer uncle up again?” he asked.
“Because you killed him!” she screamed. “Your clan killed him, and you may just as well have done it yourself! And I have spoken with you as though… as though we were…” She trailed off. She then continued to walk away, and Alistair followed close behind.
The rain became even heavier, pounding upon the woods and their bodies. Quite unexpectedly, Jane descended to the ground and burst into tears. Alistair watched in sheer fascination and utter helplessness. “My uncle was the only person I had besides my sister! He was the only man that ever loved me. He taught me everything I know. Everything! His presence was a balm to me. He made me feel like a human being and not the waste of space my father made me think I was. Now he is gone, and my life is as good as ruined. Because of you. You took him away from me. You. Your clan.”
Alistair had no idea what to do, but the rain was pouring down now, and they had to find shelter, otherwise they might catch their death of cold. He communicated this to her, extending his hand, but it seemed that she did not hear, for she remained on the forest floor. But then her crying ceased, and she rose to her feet unaided. Her clothes, including his shirt, were soiled.
Alistair took her hand anyway and steered her in the direction of a deep cave half-closed by a huge rock. He herded her inside. From there, they watched the rain fall relentlessly on the earth. Alistair heard shivering sounds and turned. Jane was in fact shivering, her hands hugging her body, her teethe chattering, her hair plastered to her face. Alistair himself was freezing, only, he had learned the art of hiding distress. He walked closer to Jane, and she flinched. “What are you doing?” she asked in alarm.
“We need body heat to survive, Jane Marsh, or we will both freeze to death.”
“G–generate your own body heat, then!” she said around her clattering teeth. The sound made Alistair worry further. The girl really was cold.
“There are times tae be stubborn, Jane Marsh,” he said, his speech more coordinated but still affected by the cold. “Now is nae one of them. Come.”
He reached for her and enfolded her with his own body. She stood stiff, but then, slowly reluctantly, she put her head on his shoulder. He felt the tension seep out of her. The best way for this to work would be for her to discard her soiled clothes entirely, but he knew that a suggestion like that would scare her away, and so he persevered.
“Lass?” he said.
“What is it now?”
“’T’would be better if we lie down.”
“I will not lie on the floor of a cave, thank you very much. And definitely not with your paws around me.”
“Paws?’
“Your giant hands!” Jane said, and Alistair noted, with relief, that her voice sounded better. He chuckled.
“Ye mean fer us tae stay on our feet in this manner?”
“What is wrong with your feet?” she asked.
Alistair grinned. “Very well.” He wrapped himself a little more tightly around her, and she did not protest. But her body was taut, stiff with caution. This would not do at all. Alistair thought of a way to make his captive more comfortable around him so that they could survive the night. There was no way to placate her for the kidnapping, but perhaps he could address the other thing that she was angry about: her uncle. Perhaps, if he could prove to her that her fears concerning his clan killing her uncle were unfounded, she would loosen up a little more. Alistair had no idea how to go about things like subtlety, and so he decided that he would just take the direct approach.
“Jane?” Alistair said gently.
“Hmm?”
“Dae you ken how yer uncle died?”
