Page 8 of Falling for His Cousin’s Betrothed

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How could she leave him? Laila stood back, her hands clenched into fists, as she studied the man on his horse. He was huge, he had short brown hair with red shades covering his head and he had a scruff beard all over his jawline. He needed help, and it sat uneasily on her conscience to think that he would be left here, alone in the darkness of night. Adding to her feelings of discomfort and unease was the fact that the howling continued to grow closer in the foreground. Laila knew that the wolves of the Highland were a cantankerous and dangerous lot. She’d heard enough stories about the damages they ensued on innocent civilians, and she wanted nothing more, at that moment, than to be back in her bed, safe and sound within the warmth and predictability of the castle walls. Yet she knew she would never go back, not so long as Lyall was still the matriarch at the helm in its quarters. With no other choice than to carry on, she looked up and closed her eyes, prayerful for a savior.

“What’s that?” Laila spun around in her heels, the only light now a sliver from the moon. Who was it? She gulped and realized it must be the wolf, creeping still closer. What were the odds of her stumbling upon a maimed pony, a fallen man, and now a lurking wolf? She lowered her gaze and tapped into her mind’s eye. In the past, she’d simply called upon her ancient healing mentors and asked that she find the appropriate guidance. Now, though, it seemed the circumstances were more intense. What would happen if her healing gift failed at this moment? There was no time to doubt her powers, lest she fall prey to the whims of this prowling mammal.

“I ask for a symbol, a sign…” she whispered as she backed slowly into a clump of moss campion.

The wolf, however, cared not for her talents, for her innate abilities. He crept forward, his nose to the forest floor, his hackles raised. Laila trembled at the sight.

Stomp! Just as the wolf was about to circle her in the campion, the fallen steed stamped his hoof. Laila looked at him with surprise. How had he not passed? Had he not perished after the weight of the man had fallen on him? She was amazed to hear him stir and hoped he might be able to break free from the underpinnings that had him stifled in the brambles. The wolf, not impressed, lashed forward, its paw extended, its claws like daggers.

Laila ducked, but not before her hair was caught in the mass of brambles. “Oh!” she cried, struggling to free herself from the thick ensnarement. The wolf drew closer, growling and drooling with every step forward. “No!” Laila reached for a branch and snapped it off with a pop. She waved it at the wolf’s face, hoping to deter him from further advances.

“Agghhh!”

Laila froze. What was that? She looked at the pony who was still struggling to free himself from the vines that he was entangled in, and she noticed the man’s arm moving, not quickly, but still steadily up the pony’s mane.

“Are you alive?” Laila called out at once, the wolf still sniffing and growling at her feet. “If you are, please help.” She could barely eke out the words because her heart was beating wildly in her chest. Once again, she recalled her elders, her mentors, and her healers. What would they do or advise in such a quandary? She tried to find a still place within her soul, a library of wisdom that might give her the answers she sought, and it was then that she remembered to be quiet and ask for the guides to bring her to salvation. “I know I will survive,” she said. “Peace and light are within me,” she added, closing her eyes and hoping for the best. It was then, as if the universe had conspired in her favor, that the man pushed his elbows up on the pony, thrust his chest forward, and pushed his pelvis upward so that he was balanced upright on the steed.

“Here.” His words were strained, but Laila knew he was trying to survive and that any sound, any movement at all, was a positive sign. With the wolf still crouched in a threatening position, she wasn’t sure what to do, though. If she moved toward the man and his horse, she might startle the wolf and find herself in a more precarious situation than the one she was already in. She blinked her eyes and looked at the man as he struggled to get his balance. The moon, still the only light in the valley, illuminated his physique, and Laila wondered how he was even able to keep steady, being he was so large. The pony, now alarmed with the movements on his back, stomped his hoof again, which gave the wolf pause.

“Please.” The man outstretched his hand, then dropped it on the pony’s withers. “I’m…” He started to speak, then collapsed forward. The wolf paused and circled the brambles, his hackles still raised and his eyes still glowing. Laila looked at the ground and thought about bolting. With a jolt, maybe she could escape the threat of the wolf. But the chances of surviving his attack would be smaller. Besides, she still had the man and his horse to assist. What was she going to do? She asked herself as the air grew even cooler. There was no easy way to handle the situation, and she knew that time was growing close for her to act in some manner. She tried again to untangle her hair and eased forward just as the man, in one fell swoop, hoisted himself upright.

His face was crumpled, pained, and sullen. Laila could only imagine the pain he was in at that moment, having survived what appeared to be a massive crash on his horse. Where did he come from? she wondered, the wolf now quiet yet still circling the hedgerow. The man’s eyes, even in the moonlight, glowed with a sort of mystical purity that gave Laila immediate calm. Before she had a chance to study him further, however, the wolf lunged at her side. Laila screamed. “No!” she cried. The wolf’s teeth, bared and illuminated in the moonlight, reminded her of sharp knives, and she closed her eyes in an effort to shield herself from their potential damage.

“Off!” The man, shaky but determined, reached for a knife in his leather pocket. Laila watched, stunned, as he pulled it from the sheath and threw it at the wolf. It caught his hind leg, and he winced, but it was hardly a deterrent, and he circled the brambles once more, his eyes green and grisly under the light of the moon.

“Umph!” The man threw a leg over the hindquarters of his horse and stood now in the thicket. Laila was taken aback by his stature. His thighs were thick and like logs, sturdy and unmoving. His arms were ropy and like vines, twisted and gnarled.The color of his eyes was rare, they were amber, just like the leaves from the trees in the early autumn. Laila caught her breath and eyed the wolf, then looked up at the man. Does he have any other tactics? she hoped as the pony stomped and an owl hooted overhead. The night air was now chilling her through to the bone, and she wanted nothing more, again, than to be curled up inside the warmth of her woolen blankets, at the castle and in her bed. Yet she knew this wasn’t possible.

Just when it seemed as if the man might have fallen short on ideas, he reached in his pocket and produced a sgian-dubh, its handles coated in thick resin and adorned with a line of shimmering rubies. He clutched it for a moment, eyed up the wolf, and then lurched forward. The wolf backed up into the thicket but was still determined. The pony whinnied and stomped just as a light rain began to fall. Laila was cold. “Off!” the man cried out once more, and the wolf lowered its head but growled. Laila, despite her best efforts to call upon her mentors, healers, and guides, worried that the worst was about to transpire. She had been out in the darkness for hours now, and her body shivered with cold. She ran her hands up her arms in an attempt to warm herself, which got the blood flowing, but sadly did little to stop the trembling inside.

“Help!” She covered her face with her hands which were now covered in mud. The wolf lunged for her woolen coat and succeeded in tearing off a corner from her pocket. Laila fell down on the thick duff pile that had grown quickly sodden with rain. The pony whinnied again, and the owl hooted from its new perch in the yew tree to the right. The sky opened up and decided to let loose a deluge. Trees bent in the wind that had swept through, and rain proceeded to come down in heavy sheets.

Laila was in tears. “No!” She shook her head as the wolf lunged for her one more time. Yet just as his teeth, bared and ready to chomp, closed down on her coat, the man raised the sgian-dubh above his head, thrust his body away from his steed, and stabbed the weapon deep into the wolf’s back. The wolf collapsed.

“You’re okay,” he managed to say before losing his balance and taking a knee on the duff.

Laila rushed to his side. “But you…” she began. “Are you okay? No. Of course you aren’t.” She felt immediately childish for even asking such a question. He was clearly in pain, still suffering from whatever his injuries were that had landed him in the thicket of Scotland to begin with. If only I can get him to tell me his story, she thought. But he seemed in no shape to do so. With a modicum of hesitation, Laila took his hand in hers and held it tight. “I need you to listen,” she spoke. “You’re going to survive. You saved me.” She gulped hard, realizing that this man, this giant stranger from the hills had, in one fell swoop, preserved her existence. For that, she couldn’t even begin to express her gratitude.

“I’m…” He started to speak but could only manage to get a few words out. His body ached. His mind raced. What would he do to get out of his forest? His horse was injured, the sky was dark, and only a sliver of the moon lit his way forward. He closed his eyes for a moment, and Laila ran a hand up his arm.

“It’s okay, sir. You needn’t speak. I can help you with some of this salve.” She remembered that, in a moment of haste, she had with her some important healing elements. “I know it’ll do the trick once we get your arm cleaned—” She was not able to finish her sentence before the man had retracted his arm and grimaced.

“No.” He shook his head, and the pony snorted. “I’m going to tend to this myself once I get out of these woods.” It was the first full sentence he’d spoken since their eyes had met, and Laila, while taken aback, was also delighted that he was conscious enough to speak. Maybe he’d be able to get on his feet and show them both the way to the yonder hillside.

“But your head,” said Laila, pointing to his brow. “You have a gash.”

“No.” Again, he resisted her help. “I’m going to see my way out.” He turned, as if to exit the wooded alcove, but was thwarted by Laila’s gaze. “You must come, too,” he added. “Night has fallen, and the temperature is dropping.” He reached limply for the reins of his horse’s bridle but stumbled in the process.

“You are much too weak,” scolded Laila. “Your head is bleeding, and your foot looks swollen. You need help.” Her words, honest and gentle, were not what the man wanted to hear.

“I know these woods well, and I’ll see to it that we all find the way out together.” Laila lowered her stare. Clearly, he wanted to be the one in charge. She politely acquiesced, not wanting to insult his pride or his character. “Come,” he said, trying once more to gather enough strength to hold on to the reins. His horse snorted again, and Laila watched as his tousled mane shook to and fro in the moonlight.

“If you insist.” Laila turned to face the valley and rolled her eyes. Why was this man, clearly injured and barely conscious, trying with every ounce of his strength to make the journey out of the woods so difficult? He was stubborn, she decided, and there was nothing she could do to change that. “I do hope that your head stops bleeding soon, though,” added Laila.

The man grumbled and patted his brow, then wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. Blood and dirt, smeared and obvious, resembled ancient war paint on his visage. She sighed and looked down at the wolf, its body dark and matted in the chill, forest night. All she wanted to do was get some rest, but it seemed that might be asking too much, at least in this particular, contentious moment. The man hoisted himself against the pony’s withers and then locked eyes with Laila. This, she decided, was going to be a long and arduous night.