Page 4 of Highlander’s False Identity

The question hung in the air, hauntingly, needling the girl visibly as she pretended to look away. Inside, her heart beat fast. She did not know what to say. She did not have an answer to give him for the question he asked. She pouted and turned away, much to the scorn of the lad watching her.

Beathan folded his arms and waited, with a smug expression on his face.

“Well, if ye will nae tell me, maybe the Laird can drag it out of ye,” he announced, a determination coming into his bright green eyes. “Or maybe even one of the guards! I daresay the Sheriff will take an interest too!”

At the mention of this, the girl’s eyes widened. Watching her reaction carefully, the lad continued.

“An’ wi’ all the robberies around here, I wouldnae be surprised if he hangs ye, just to mak’ an example!” he added, glancing slyly at her.

The girl visibly whitened, her already pale skin taking on an almost translucent quality.

In the lull that opened up between them, a flock of starlings flew overhead, their noisy intervention momentarily distracting them both.

Edme watched the lad as he raised his eyes up high, noting his firm physique and rugged shoulders. Then she smiled, a little coyly.

“Ye wouldnae dae that,” she declared softly, her eyes scanning his for a reaction.

He bristled slightly, but without taking his eyes off the noisy birds, he continued, “Och aye, wouldnae I? Is that a chance ye wannae take, lass?”

Edme could not see his face, but she fully imagined him to be laughing at her, despite his stern words.

“The laird takes the theft of his jewelry very seriously! An’ that’s nothing on what the lady might do. An’ I can tell ye, ye dinnae want tae get on the wrong side of her!” he added.

This time he did look at her, bringing his almost luminous bright green eyes down to bear on her. At that moment, Edme thought she detected just a shade of warmth. In his face, a glazed amusement passed over, as if he was having some sort of jest with her. Then, in an instant, it had vanished, and his face returned to its ice-cold bed of steel.

“So then, what’s it gonnae be, lassie?” Beathan inquired, almost snarling the words; his previous demeanor put on hold.

All the same, Edme held her nerve. One thing the last few months had taught her was to spot a performance when she saw one. The lad was bluffing; she felt sure.

“Ye either answer my questions, or ye come wi’ me to someone who will make ye!” he promised, stiffening in his pose and patting down his clothes.

His hands fumbled about for something that seemed to be missing. In the blink of an eye, the girl noted his empty dagger pouch.

Then, her deft eyes spied something, glinting in the March sun – his black sgian dubh. It was there, just nestling by a tree, maybe about half a foot away from where she was standing. Unable to believe her luck, Edme lunged to grab it.

“I think yer lookin’ for this!” she announced, flashing the ornate looking dagger towards him, just close enough to his person for him to try to snatch it.

Like a cat, teasing its prey, she held it close enough to elicit a response, but in the split second that he took to swipe at it, she retreated, laughing.

Frustrated, Beathan lurched forward again, still unable to catch the dagger.

“Here! Give it back!” he demanded as she laughed.

“Nae,” she replied, taunting him with the jewel-encrusted sword, jabbing it this way and that, with dramatic gestures, swiping through the air. “I will nae!”

“It’s hopeless, yer nae match for me, lassie!” Beathan reasoned, but under his pale soft skin she could see that beads of sweat were forming,

“Och, I ken yer strong, laddie,” praised the girl, pretending to be impressed. She glanced over at the boy’s taut muscles. It was hard not to be somewhat affected by the lad’s solid set of muscles. Although covered by a brightly checkered plaid, Edme could see the outline of his frame, from his well-defined shoulders to his muscular forearms sticking out of his sleeves.

She gave an involuntary shiver as she contemplated the look of his firm stomach and tried not to think of anything that lay beneath his sporran.

“So, yer strong,” she repeated. “But are ye quick?”

Before the meaning could be clear to him, Edme was off, running as fast as she could, her slender frame disappearing over the top of the hillside.

* * *

Edme!