Page 31 of Highlander’s Forbidden Fruit

“Oh.” Isla pouted prettily and stomped her foot. The tops of her breasts jiggled provocatively. “But I had my heart set on a pretty lace for the feast. Take me with ye,” she said, touching his arm.

“Tell ye what,” he said, removing her hand as gently as possible. “I’ll find ye a lace in town.”

“Will ye, Aleck?” She batted her eyelids, a smile as wide as the horizon.

Anything to get ye off my back, he thought.

“Must hurry.”

He rushed away as fast as he could. A horse was saddled, and he was on his way. Halfway on the ride to town, he thought of little else but Isla and how to rid himself of her. Joseph was keen on taking her on, but she spared no glances his way. Royce was to be married to the butcher’s daughter in the spring, so he was no help. There was nothing for it but to hope the child’s infatuation would simmer out once some bawdy lad in his cups had his way with her.

Better his head and Lockard’s fist than mine, he thought wryly as he passed the town by and headed a mile west to where the gypsy caravans had made their camp.

The troops of children were the first line of defense at the encampment. They came at him with a battle cry that warriors would be envious of. Some carried sticks adorned with string, others had fashioned swords out of wood. Dogs ran between their legs, yapping and barking their enthusiasm.

“Whatcha after, sir?” one of the bigger lads asked. He was dressed smartly but had no shoes on.

“Got anyone who can play the pipes?” Aleck asked.

“Bagpipes?”

“Aye.”

“Suppose there was.” The boy looked up at him with sly eyes. “What are you willing to pay for this knowledge?”

“You tell me now,” Aleck said leaning down to stare into the little man’s eyes. “And I willnae trample ye under my horse.”

The boy gulped.

“Vano can play ‘em.” The boy nodded at the camp.

“And where will I find this Vano?”

“He’s by the red caravan.”

“No, he’s not.” One of the youngest boys piped up. He got a smack on the head for his contribution to the conversation.

“Ack! Lay off!” Aleck warned. “Ye, lad. Where’s this Vano at, eh?”

The little boy had tears in his dark eyes and wouldn’t say. Aleck could see palms would have to be greased, but tiny hands need only tiny grease.

“There’s a halfpenny in it for ye.”

“Oi!” The eldest boy protested. “I could ‘ave told you just as well for a farthing!”

“Aye, I doubt it. But ye tried to be smart with me. Lesson learned. Now, lad.” He pulled out the coin and held it up. “Where’s Vano?”

The boy stared at it as if it were the Holy Grail. “He’s at the tavern in town.” He held a chubby hand up for the coin, but Aleck lifted it out of reach.

“’And who’s at the red caravan?”

“Bartly.”

“Who’s Bartly?”

“The strongman.”

Aleck stared down the eldest boy who stared back defiantly.