Page 56 of A Dangerous Highland Affair

“But I,” began Neacal, but he was swiftly interrupted.

“Nae,” said Teasag, this time, her voice clouding with despair. “Nae, but I am nae. I mean, I should have kent it when those women were onto ye, in the road to Blackness,” she said.

Neacal’s heart thundered as Teasag spoke those words. He realized there was nothing he could say in his defense, and with a sinking heart, hung his head low.

“I should have kent it, Neacal,” said Teasag, her voice trembling but not betraying any bitterness. “Yer a thief. It’s obvious… I shouldnae have needed a poster to tell it to me, but… but to find out that it’s even worse than that…”

Her voice trailed off, with a little gulp, as she cried silently through the undergrowth in the wood.

All Neacal wanted was to go to her, hold her, and make her know that she was wrong. But he couldn’t.

He could barely move, at that moment, pressed up against the spreading oak tree in the center of the forest. His heart was pounding so hard it felt like a knife was going right through it, staking him to the tree behind.

“But it isnae the truth,” he protested, eventually, when his clumsy tongue had finally loosened the words from his mouth.

But it was too late. In that instant, Neacal heard the distinctive shimmying of her feet, running along the undergrowth.

“Teasag, please listen, it isnae true, and besides…” he pleaded, to no avail. Her footsteps were retreating, cracking, and crunching through the dense woodland track.

Neacal sighed; he had lost her, and possibly in more ways than just one. In the distance, he could still hear her light steps jingling in the undergrowth, the sound coming from the travel knapsack she was carrying.

A stab of conscience ran through Neacal at the memory of Teasag’s silver thimbles. It had been true that he had had his eye on them since she had arrived in the tavern. He had clocked them, together with the purse of coins, and been instantly tempted.

That morning, in the tavern corridor, when she had dropped them—literally—into his lap, Neacal had barely been able to contain his amazement.

It should have been perfect. He’d never have cause to see her again, and she hadn’t even realized that she’d lost them.

That had been when Neacal had realized that something had changed. Instead of being gratified by his good fortune, he had felt a disquiet.

A strange feeling he had hitherto never experienced before ran through him. Realizing slowly that this was compunction, Neacal had gone tearing after Teasag, even though it had meant losing his good fortune.

Of course, he had had other reasons for following her that morning, but it had barely registered that he would lose the thimbles.

Neacal opened his mouth to try and tell her this and make her see that he had never been meaning to rob her, but then realized this probably wasn’t going to help matters much. And besides, she had gone—vanishing without a trace through the thick woods.

Desperately, he glanced about at the falling night skies.

“Teasag, ye’ll get lost, ye cannae go off an’ yer ane like that,” he said but realized it was too late.

From the edge of the forest, he heard the distinctive sound of the nut-brown mare whinnying. Teasag had clearly made it to the clump of trees where they had left the little horse tethered.

“I’ll be braw, Neacal,” said Teasag, her thin voice carrying on the wind as she spoke.

Neacal could not see her but could already picture the glowing in her eyes as she spoke.

“Don’t try to follow me, ye should worry about yerself!” she said, as a parting shot, mounting the braying mare.

And then they were gone. Neacal finally catching a glimpse of her, cast against the fading sun, clinging hard to the brown mare, her long platinum hair swaying in the breeze.

Teasag did not know how long she ran for, only that it was until she had cleared the length of the forest area which surrounded the makeshift brigand’s village and out into the little clearing around the edge.

Somewhere, behind her, she was still aware of his footsteps. Neacal’s footfalls stalking her and rustling in amongst the trees as she ran away from him.

Then she carried on running until she could not run anymore, over the brambles and the low hedges and then out, to the waiting horse, waiting patiently at the side of the woods.

Before long, she was speeding through the dusky skies, catching the tails of the sunset to cut across the wide-open landscape.

Teasag grabbed the reins to the sturdy horse and drove her harder. On the outside, her eyes blazed fiercely into the night sky. But on the inside, she was trembling like aspic.