Page 7 of Bound to a Highland Beast (Tales of Love and Lust in the Murray Castle #8)

CHAPTER SIX

A n hour later, there still was no village in sight. Tiernan could not wrap his head around Beag’s decision to drag them so far into the woods. He had no real reason other than to simply inconvenience them, and if he were honest, that sounded like something Beag would do.

Tiernan was tired. Tired of having to fight all the time, of having to put out fire after fire just to survive. When Alaric had brought him to Castle MacGregor, he had thought that things would finally change for him, that he would finally have the chance to live a good life. But even now, the ghosts of his past were pursuing him relentlessly, never once giving him a moment to breathe.

He should have known better than to think he could have such good luck. All his life had been spent in misery. Why should it be any different now?

As they walked, he watched Isabeau carefully. Once again, she was having difficulty, surely sore after the hours they had spent walking the previous day. He hoped that her slippers were more secure now at least, and that she didn’t have as much pain with those straps he had fashioned, but they both needed new clothes.

And neither of them had any gold.

Once again, he would be forced to steal, but what other choice did he have? He wouldn’t involve Isabeau in it. He would keep as much of it from her as he could, but it was impossible to completely shelter her from the crimes he would have to commit to do what Beag asked of him.

As they walked, the breeze whipping his cheeks as it blew through the trees, Isabeau came to an abrupt halt. Tiernan almost fell on her, not watching where he was going, but he stopped just short and frowned.

“Dae ye hear that?” she asked.

Tiernan strained to hear, but no sound came to his ears. He made to speak but before he could, Isabeau held up a hand, shushing him.

Then he heard it. It was the cry of a child, perhaps a boy, asking for help.

“Ach, I ken what this is,” he said, but before he could say anything else, Isabeau was already off, rushing towards the source of the sound, running with such speed that it surprised Tiernan. “Isabeau! Wait!”

Ye fool! Ye’ll get yerself killed!

She was light on her feet. He was not. And no matter how much he called her name, begging her to stop, she wouldn’t listen.

There was another cry and he knew to whom it belonged. Reaching for his blade, Tiernan pushed himself to his limits, running as fast as he could until he pushed through the last line of trees and bushes into a tiny path. There, he saw Isabeau, a young boy, and two men who were circling her slowly, looking at her as though she were a prey.

He wasted no time before he attacked.

With a cry, he threw himself on the larger brigand, a man with broad shoulders and arms like the trunks of trees. The element of surprise worked in his favor—neither of them had seen him coming, too busy as they were with Isabeau, and so he plunged his blade into the man’s neck without him having the chance to fight back. Within moments, the man was bleeding out on the ground and the boy was hurrying away, running down the path to escape.

Then, Tiernan turned his sights on the other man. That one was slimmer, shorter, but also younger, and he was looking at Tiernan with so much rage behind his eyes that his blood ran cold.

“That was me braither ye killed,” the man said, voice dripping with venom.

“Ye’ll see him soon enough,” Tiernan said, just before the two of them clashed. Like him, the brigand had a short blade in his hand, which was a blessing, as he didn’t have to avoid an entire sword. On the other hand, though, it meant that he had to get very close to him and risk injury himself, so he watched him carefully to see how he moved.

Tiernan raised his knife and aimed for the brigand’s chest only for him to step back, avoiding the blow. In return, he lunged at Tiernan, his fist connecting painfully with his jaw and sending him stumbling back a few steps. Shaking the pain off, Tiernan adjusted his grip on his knife, and when the brigand came close, he ducked and then sprang up again, punching him in the nose.

He felt bone crunch under his knuckles. Within moments, blood fountained out of the man’s nose, and in the seconds it took him to recover, Tiernan took his chance, striking him in the gut.

It was a quick and brutal fight—the kind Tiernan did best. There was no honor among thieves, and a dirty tactic was no lesser than an honorable one as long as it was effective. He didn’t have the luxury to waste time on honor. In fights like this, one had to move fast and ruthlessly, taking down the opponent before they had a chance to retaliate.

As the man fell to the ground, Tiernan stood over him and watched as he bled out, panting to catch his breath. Sweat coated his brow and belatedly, he realized he was covered in blood—his hands, his clothes, even his face spattered with it, painting him a dark crimson.

Somewhere in the middle of the fight, he had been cut on the arm, but he only realized it now that the adrenaline was fading. It was a shallow wound, one that was barely anything compared to other injuries he had sustained in his life, and so he didn’t pay it any notice.

He only paid attention to Isabeau, who had retreated from the fight and was standing pressed against the trunk of a tree. Her eyes were wide, full of fear. Her face was pale, as if all the blood had been drained out of her.

And she was looking at Tiernan as though she was seeing a monster.

Isabeau couldn’t believe she had fallen for this ploy, jumping right into the trap the brigands had set up for her by having a child scream for help so they could lure her away and attack her. Tiernan had been calling after her and she had ignored him, rushing to help the child she thought was in need, only to fall into the hands of those men. Under the fear that bubbled up inside her the moment they sprang up out of the shadows was disappointment—disappointment in herself for being so foolish, so trusting.

She had thought her life would end right then and there or that the men would do unspeakable things to her. But then Tiernan had shown up and he had struck them both down within a matter of seconds.

He was fast and efficient. Brutal.

Growing up, Isabeau had seen her brothers fight many times. She had watched them as they trained, exchanging blow after blow and sometimes even injuring each other when they weren’t careful. She had seen their scars. Alaric, especially, was covered in them from all the missions on which he had gone, and so she knew they had both been part of several conflicts.

But she had never seen anything like this. When her brothers trained, there was a grace to their movements and their attacks were, in an odd way, gentlemanly. There was nothing gentlemanly about the way Tiernan fought. It was neither for practice nor for sport; it was for survival.

She didn’t know how long she had been standing there, simply staring at Tiernan, unable to move. The first thing she noticed about him was that he was covered in blood, like a wild beast that had just devoured its prey. It seemed to her that there was blood everywhere—pooling under the bodies, seeping into the ground, soaking his clothes. There was so much of it, more than Isabeau thought she would ever see in her life.

“It’s alright,” Tiernan said from where he stood, not making an attempt to approach her. Isabeau thought it was for the best. She didn’t know if she could handle having him near her in that moment. “It’s over. Ye’re safe.”

I’m safe. I’m safe.

Isabeau repeated those words to herself, but no matter how many times she said it, like a prayer or a mantra, it didn’t seem to work. The fear had gripped her tightly and would not let her go. Her stomach churned at the memory of those two men surrounding her, at the sight of them dead on the ground. Her vision tunneled and she had to make a conscious effort to breathe, trying to slow her racing heart.

Pull yerself taegether. Ye put him intae this mess. Take some responsibility.

This had all been her fault. If she had only listened to Tiernan?—

“Isabeau—”

Tiernan tried to approach her slowly, his hand outstretched towards her and his steps small, as though he was trying to approach a frightened animal or a child. Isabeau could only step back, though, a sob escaping her as she shook her head.

“Stay away,” she said, and then, realizing how she sounded, she added a soft, “please.”

Tears began to fall down her cheeks, carving hot paths on her skin. She didn’t even know why she was crying, since she was now safe and all Tiernan seemed to want was to comfort her, but no matter how much she tried, she couldn’t bring herself to stop. All she knew was that this experience had frightened her more than anything else in her life. Not only had those brigands attacked her and were then murdered in front of her, but they had also used a child to lure her in, and now Isabeau didn’t even know what would happen to the boy.

“It’s alright,” said Tiernan. He didn’t try to approach this time, but his hand remained outstretched, as if he was trying to reach her from a distance. “Everythin’ is fine now. Ye’re safe, I promise ye.”

Is this what happens tae people who live outside the castle walls? Dae they all have tae live in fear o’ somethin’ like this happenin’ tae them?

Isabeau couldn’t imagine it, spending an entire life with this fear. But she also couldn’t imagine how she could have been this naive, never once thinking that it could have been a trap.

“I dinnae even ken why I’m cryin’,” she admitted to Tiernan through another sob. “Please, I dinnae ken…”

She didn’t know what she was asking for, either. Comfort, perhaps? For Tiernan to tell her again that everything was fine, that she was safe? That seemed impossible.

Once again, Tiernan tried to approach her, and this time, Isabeau allowed it. At first, he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, but it was not enough. She needed to feel him close. She needed to know that he was there, alive and well.

Without a word, Isabeau fell into his arms, clinging onto him. For a moment, Tiernan hesitated, but then he held her close, petting her back as she cried on his shoulder. He did nothing but shush her and rub small circles between her shoulder blades, but she soon found that it was more than enough. Just his presence and their closeness were enough to calm her, to remind her that they were both alive and well and it was all in the past.

Drawing in a deep, steadying breath, Isabeau pulled herself together slowly, hating that she had been reduced to that. She was better than that; stronger. She had never seen battle, but she refused to break down when Tiernan had just killed two men because of her and had even been injured in the process.

“Forgive me,” she said, pushing herself up to her full height and taking a few steps back. The first ones were hesitant, faltering, but with every step, she found her strength once more. “I didnae ken, I should have listened tae ye. I never thought it would be a trap.”

Isabeau watched as some of the tension melted from Tiernan’s body, his muscles relaxing a little. “It’s alright. Ye couldnae have kent,” he said. “But next time, listen tae me. It’s dangerous out here. Ye cannae dae as ye please.”

“I understand,” she said, because she did. Now, she truly understood what it meant to be outside the safety of the castle walls. She was lucky enough to have Tiernan by her side. Once again, without him, she would have been dead—or perhaps even worse. “I’ll listen tae ye from now on, I promise.”

It was the least she could do. She didn’t want to be a burden to Tiernan when he already had so much on his plate. There was already a good chance they would both end up dead by Constantine’s hand, but she wanted to think that they at least had a chance. If she acted foolishly, then she would only manage to send them to an even earlier grave.

“Are ye alright?” she asked Tiernan, fearing the answer she would receive.

“Aye,” he said. “I only have a scratch. Ye?”

“I’m fine,” she assured him. The brigands hadn’t had the chance to hurt her before he had shown up. She was only still shaken, but she doubted that would change in the near future.

“I must change,” Tiernan said, and for a moment, Isabeau had no idea what he was saying, until she realized he was soaked in blood. Naturally, he couldn’t go anywhere like that and expect not to draw attention, so of course he had to change clothes.

“Ach… aye,” said Isabeau. “I’ll… turn around. Tell me when ye’re ready.”

And so she turned her back to Tiernan and stared far into the distance. It had been a while since she had last encountered a clear horizon, and even now, there were trees on both sides of her, but right in the middle, down the path, she could see the line between the earth and the sky. As she waited, she rocked on her heels, the pain in her legs long forgotten from all the shock she had just experienced.

She was still in shock. She had no doubts about that. But she also knew that they could do nothing but keep going, hoping that in the end, she could return home.

I wonder what that laddie will dae now.

It wasn’t the child’s fault, she knew. That boy did what he had to do to survive, just like they were. She only hoped there was someone left to take care of him.

“Alright,” Tiernan called. “Ye can turn around.”

Isabeau did as she was told, turning to see Tiernan wearing the clothes of the larger man, which looked comically big on him. The neckline of the shirt was sagging around his neck and the sleeves hung down limply, making him look like a child in his father’s clothing, but the other man was too small for his clothes to fit him. When she glanced down at the brigand, she saw that Tiernan had taken the time to drape his own clothes over him, covering some of his body, and when she met his gaze, he gave her a small shrug.

“I thought ye wouldnae wish tae see… that,” he said, and it took Isabeau a few moments to realize he was referring to the man’s buttocks.

Isabeau drew in a sharp breath. “Right.”

“Well, we should probably be on our way,” he said, approaching Isabeau with a little hesitation. She tried to remain relaxed around him, to show none of her inner turmoil, though she was certain she was failing in that regard. She hoped it would be enough to convince him she didn’t fear him—at least not as much as he may have thought.

The two of them walked side by side down the path, following it to the nearest place it would take them. Isabeau hoped there would be food there, if nothing else.

“At least we have gold now,” said Tiernan, breaking the silence between them. He pulled out a small, jingling pouch, and at the sight of it, Isabeau was gripped by a wave of excitement. One thing was finally working in their favor, it seemed. Maybe their luck had changed. Maybe they wouldn’t have to struggle for long. “It should be enough fer some food an’ board, an’ tae get us some clothes.”

It would have to be enough, she thought but didn’t say out loud. All this had taught her one thing: she knew nothing of the world and she couldn’t die before she found out more about its workings.