Page 19 of A Dangerous Highland Affair

All around were the impatient screams of women, cut against the intermittent howls of the wind. Slowly, she found her feet, her hands wrapped around his warm beacon of flesh.

Opening her eyes, Teasag gave a gasp.

It was Neacal.

CHAPTER EIGHT

“Stop! Let him go!”

The women circling him looked up, as out of nowhere, Teasag burst forwards. The sheer number of them had overpowered him, and their aggressive pursuit had him on the backfoot. It had never occurred to Neacal that a gang of women could be so ruthless.

“What, what is this? Get yer hauns off him, noo!” Teasag cried, looking down at the prone form of Neacal, splayed against the wet dirt track which led from the village.

For a moment, Neacal lay back and wondered if he was dreaming, but when he raised his head again, she was still there; her pale hair loose from its caul and tumbling down her shoulders.

Standing there against the hazy sunlight, she might have been an angel, her azure and gold-flecked eyes burning like beacons in the midst.

“Well, come on, get off him, the lad cannae breathe!” she yelled at them.

Although he was still struggling to be free, Neacal couldn’t help but feel awed. The sight of this tiny lass taking on a stack of women—all bigger than her—impressed him.

And, to his surprise, they were relenting. The women, who had him tight by the neck, began to ease their grip as Teasag advanced.

To Neacal, it seemed like some sort of miracle sent from above.

“Teasag?” he muttered faintly, raising his head a little to look at her. The women had now loosened their grip enough for him to shake free and scramble to his feet. Although their aggressive stance had not changed, Neacal feared them turning on him again, and the distraction of Teasag was all he needed to wriggle away.

A minute earlier, and he had thought he was done for. The women’s hands dug tightly into him, all of them with a pound of his flesh in their clammy hands. At one point, he seriously thought they were going to tear him to pieces; and it was only in the distraction that had given him a chance to shake free of their grip.

Getting to his feet, Neacal brushed himself down and distanced himself from the women as they bristled by the roadside. It seemed they acted as one and were deliberating about what was to be done.

“I say we call the sheriff noo!” cried the largest, a hatchet-faced woman with fading brown hair scragged back into a simple hairnet.

“I say we deal wi’ him ourselves!” argued another. Neacal recognized her as the one who had instigated the assault. Her broad, lined face watched him furtively, waiting to strike again.

A myriad of emotions competed inside him, pride, fear, shame, desperation, anger. Then, in an instant, they were gone. At a glance, Teasag had dispelled his fears.

Now, the only feelings he had were for her. Relief intermingled with something else, a feeling so strange, Neacal didn’t even know its’ name.

Teasag smiled oddly and came towards him, as Neacal hastily straightened his clothing and hair.

“Teasag, where did ye come from?” he asked, leaning over to speak to her. He was on the verge of reaching her when a mound of flesh intervened.

“Och, we’re nae finished wi’ ye laddie! An’ when are, ye’ll be in nae state to carry on wi’ yer fancy piece!”

Both Neacal and Teasag looked around to see a tall, big-boned teuchter, with features drawn into a permanent scowl.

Ignoring her, Neacal moved to be nearer Teasag, but the woman stood her ground.

“I said yer nae going anywhere, laddie, till I get the jewel back!” she said, pushing him down again. But this time, Neacal was ready.

“Nae,” he said firmly. “I told ye, yer mistaken, so take yer hands off me!”

Even as he spoke, he felt his cheeks sizzling with shame. He could feel the eyes of the women upon him, but for now, most of them were staying well back, huddled into a gap by the roadside, watching him silently.

Only the thickset woman with the intransigent face seemed determined to continue, scowling at him from the roadside.

Around them, the wind shook them from all angles, with sudden gusts blowing all through the open glen side.