Page 23 of Kidnapped By a Highland Shadow

Rabbit Meat

I’m going to vomit, was Pippia’s first conscious thought. Her next conscious thought was, There’s nothing in my belly to throw up. Oddly, that made her feel even more queasy.

Then a tremendous headache fell on her as if from a great height, rattling her skull and pulsing at her temples. Pippia did not usually fall victim to headaches, and this one was especially bad.

Her stomach and chest felt bruised, the kind of soreness she associated with horse riding, but in the wrong places. With a rush, Pippia remembered what had happened.

It had been that wretched stranger, the one who’d snatched her knife out of the air with such an impressive flourish. He’d struck her on the head with something, with no warning, and that was all Pippia remembered.

Focus. Calm down. Try to collect as much information as you can before you let him know you’re awake, Pippia told herself, choking down her panic. Surely, if the man wanted to kill her, he’d have done it by now.

Wouldn’t he? Pippia didn’t feel that she had enough experience with murderous strangers to say either way.

Judging by the chill in the air and the distant hooting of owls, it was nighttime, or at least well into the twilight. Pippia could hear the crackling of a fire, and she could feel the heat of the flames flickering across her face. She could hear a large animal moving slowly and leisurely nearby, and it sounded like a horse of some kind.

Well, if she’d been slung across a horse’s back, that would explain the mysterious bruises and soreness. Pippia strained her ears for any signs of a person nearby, but she could hear nothing. No breathing, no footsteps, no muttering. Perhaps she was alone? Perhaps he’d intended to rob her and had now gone and left her to recover alone?

Yes, and he built a fire before he went and left his horse here, too, Pippia told herself bitterly. Unlikely.

“I know you’re awake.”

Pippia flinched despite herself. The deep, rumbling voice seemed to come from across the fire and sounded almost amused. Since the game was up, Pippia opened her eyes.

There was indeed a fire, a roaring, cheerful blaze that staved off the night’s chill. A couple of rabbits, skinned and gutted, and what looked like a pigeon were skewered over the fire. Now that Pippia’s head was beginning to clear, she could smell the roasting meat. Her mouth watered. When was the last time she’d eaten? She’d barely picked at her midday meal. She had missed the evening meal, that was for sure.

Taking a breath, Pippia forced herself into a sitting position, wincing as she jostled the sore parts of the body.

The stranger winced. “Sorry about that.” He gestured vaguely to Pippia’s whole being. “We had to ride fast, and I had to sling you across the front of the saddle like a sack of grain. I apologize; it wasn’t very dignified. Fortunately, nobody noticed.”

“Fortunately,” Pippia echoed. “Fortunately for who, exactly?”

He smiled wryly. “Me, I suppose. How are you feeling? Hungry?”

“Stupid,” Pippia spat. “I feel stupid for trusting a complete stranger. It was nice of you to wait until I’d bandaged and salved your hand before you knocked me on the head and kidnapped me.”

The stranger’s eyes immediately went down to his bandaged palm, and he curled his hand into a fist. Pippia was surprised to notice that he flushed. Was that guilt? Well, he should be guilty.

“I’m sorry,” the stranger answered. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Well, you did hurt me,” Pippia retorted. She began to stretch out her aching limbs. Whatever his intentions were, the man didn’t seem to want to ravish or murder her at the moment. He was sitting calmly across from her, keeping an eye on the roasting meat.

“I know,” he answered. “And I’m sorry. The food is almost ready, by the way. I collected some herbs, mushrooms, and berries to go along with the meat.”

Pippia snorted. “They’re probably poisonous.”

He only smiled. “They’re not. You aren’t obliged to eat them, of course, but I’m a keen outdoorsman, and I know what’s poisonous and what’s not. I’ll eat first if you don’t trust me.”

“Don’t trust you? Of course I don’t trust you!” Pippia snapped. “Who are you?”

He hesitated for a moment. “My name is Arran.”

Pippia racked her brains. She didn’t know anyone by the name of Arran. It wasn’t an uncommon name, and there were probably a couple of Arrans in McTavie territory. Still, Pippia was no closer to discovering who the mysterious stranger was or what he wanted with her.

“Yes, but who are you?” Pippia persisted. “A name means nothing. Where are you from, and why in God’s name have you kidnapped me?”

“Kidnap is a big word. I mean you no harm.”

“Then let me go home!” Pippia had meant to sound threatening and unafraid, but her words came out pleading and plaintive. She sounded like a frightened child asking a full-grown person for a favor.