Page 34 of Highlander’s False Identity

Edme turned to look at him, wearied.

“An’ ye shouldnae be riding like that,” she added, watching in half horror, half amazement at the unfurling bruising stretching across his face.

“Nae, I’m fine. It looks worse than it is!” said Beathan. He certainly looked as if he had recovered himself, although Edme wasn’t sure he would let it show even if it did hurt.

“It’s just that we cannae stay here, getting wet. Now that I’ve got my senses back, I remember there’s a hunting lodge just a little while west of here. We can walk an’ bed down for the night,” he said, beginning to lead her towards the horses.

“But Beathan, what if someone’s there?” Edme asked. In the last few days of hiding in the clanless, she had got used to surprise encounters with angry farmers.

“There’s nae,” said Beathan cheerfully. “There’s been no one there for years, trust me,” he smiled.

Against her better judgment, Edme found herself following him. It was much too late to argue, and the sound of the storm raging around the valley was making it impossible to speak for long.

“Alright,” she said, eventually, holding on tight to his arm as they made their way through the rising storm.

As well as giving him her hand, she was, at that moment, placing all her trust in him too. If this made her nervous, Edme tried her hardest not to show it, merely turning to the lad with a cheery grin;

“Alright, on yer head be it, Beathan!” she said. “Ye lead the way!”

Chapter Twelve

“Och, I’m nae sure about this place,” Edme said, as the tumbledown cottage came into view.

Hand in hand, they had made their way through the muddy landscape, their tired horses in tow, heading to the barn.

It had been a slow, laborious walk through the rain-sodden countryside. The wet and cold took their toll on Edme’s body. And now that her heart was no longer beating in triple time, she was freezing. The moon, which had previously guided them, had temporarily disappeared behind a thick cloud, and Edme shivered in the dark.

Beathan gave her hand a little squeeze, urging her on through the overgrown yard to the cottage. It appeared he knew the way intimately, even in darkness.

As they approached the front of the tiny dark house, Edme turned to Beathan.

“How can ye be so sure that there’s no one inside?” she gasped.

“Does it look like anyone’s inside?” he replied. She couldn’t make out his features just then, but from the tone of his voice, he was laughing at her.

Edme’s stomach tensed as Beathan unlatched the front door. It took a while to open it, and when he did, she could barely look, expecting to find an angry farmer, or worse, inside.

“It’s dark!” Edme said as Beathan pushed the creaking door open.

“Ye arenae scared, are ye?” he teased. “Just wait here while I tie the horses an’ I’ll fetch a candle,” Beathan promised, depositing Edme inside the dark croft.

Edme shivered beneath her damp shawl. The cold had pervaded her bones.

“Och, Beathan, I swear it’s colder inside this place than out!” she called, but Beathan couldn’t hear her, fetching their bags from outside and tending to the horses.

She stood inside the dark, damp room a moment, shivering. Her eyes adjusting to the lack of light. Within a moment, Beathan returned, holding a lighted candle, which he placed in the center of the room.

The flame crackled and burned as it cast an elongated shadow across the room.

“There,” said Beathan finally, drawing her in and putting his arm around her.

“I’m sorry there’s nae fire,” he said.

“How did ye ken about this place, an’ that it’d be empty?” she asked. “I’ve nae been here afore. It’s so out of the way?”

Beathan laughed. “Och, we used to play here as bairns!” he said. “Ye ne’er came wi’ us?”

Edme shook her head.