Page 9 of Highlander’s False Identity

Once again, Beathan slowed the horse to a steady pace and regarded her thoughtfully.

“Ye could have escaped miles back,” he said simply. Looking into her eyes, he was met with confusion as if the girl didn’t know what he was talking about.

It was at that moment that Beathan realized for sure that she was genuinely upset. Guilt tugged at his heart.

The girl seemed to either ignore or misunderstand his question.

“Did he suffer?” she repeated, plaintively, her eyes shining brightly under the cold sun’s rays.

“Eh?” asked Beathan, missing the thread of the conversation. He had become enchanted by the sight of her, the little maid, pale and contrite, worry etched onto her delicate face. This wasn’t right; he knew he had to put it to a stop.

“The dog, did he suffer? If I had kent that…,” she began, but Beathan dismounted, bringing the horse to a stop and walked around to where she was seated. He put a finger to her lips.

“Dinnae fash lass,” he said softly, staring into her widening eyes. Inside he searched his heart, on the verge of a confession.

“But he died? The dog?” she asked. Even now, Beathan found himself touched by the strength of her feeling for this animal.

“Nae,” he said quietly. “He didnae die; I made it up…”

There was a sharp intake of breath.

“Och!” expostulated the girl, and for one moment, Beathan thought that she was about to hit him – or perhaps to throw another stone at him. He wouldn’t have blamed her if she did! Now he was overwhelmed with recrimination for leading her on like that.

“Listen, it was…” He opened his mouth to explain that the only reason he had played with her was that she had been so cocky and so hard that he had wanted to see a reaction. He had only been teasing her because he had assumed she was as brazen as she made out. But now, he could see her layers of defense stripped away like skins from an onion. Beathan took a deep breath and attempted to tell her this, but all that came out was a muffled, “Hum.”

Finally, the girl had come out of her stupor and was sitting enraged on the back of the horse.

“So ye let me think I had the death of a dog on my conscience!” she hurled, her blue eyes flashing like gemstones.

“I didnae think ye’d admit to it!” Beathan replied. “We were nae even sure where the poison had come from until this day! It was only a guess!” he added, bringing his eyes over to meet hers. “An’ ye did poison him, at least, a wee bit. For a day or two!”

The girl pouted, her graceful chin pointed into the air. She did not turn to meet his gaze.

“Och, ye cannae take a wee joke!” Beathan said, with a wide grin before striding atop Prince and taking off. This time at a cracking pace.

Chapter Four

They rode in complete silence for miles, Prince’s strides taking in the bareness of the late winter vista. Only now and then were there hints of what was to come: small green shoots of hawthorn and pine which sporadically lined the way.

It seemed that Beathan had given up on talking to her, for the time being. And that suited Edme just fine.

Beneath his jibes, Edme had seen a glimpse of the lad so desperately out of his depth and wondered how she could play it to her advantage.

Yes, she had been hurt for a moment by his prank, but now her cool head was back in charge. As she looked around, she could make out the Craig keep, vague and misty on the horizon.

Edme opened her mouth to speak, but Beathan spoke first.

“The Craig castle, it’s been a fair few years since ye were there, lass!” he said, then he looked at her mischievously. “An’ I wonder whether the laird will recognize ye now,” as if to emphasize his point, he raised one of his eyebrows.

Edme bristled. She was well aware of how she looked; flustered, she brought a hand to her hair, trying to catch the locks that were blowing about madly in the breeze.

To her annoyance, Beathan just chuckled. “Dinnae fash, lass. It’s nae my business if ye go about dressed like a lad. I just reckon folks will notice, that’s all!” he laughed.

Edme sat bolt upright, her cheeks coloring. It was true that she was wearing trews and a dark-colored wool jacket, which had clad her as a man.

She flashed at him angrily. “So then, ye try riding alone dressed as a woman an’ see what happens!” she hissed.

She sat back, annoyed for allowing Beathan’s taunts to get to her. Briefly, she wondered about loosening the bonds tying her to the black stallion, leaping off the horse, and running away.