Page 18 of The Thief (Castle Blackstone #3)

Ian rushed into the cave and Kate jumped to her feet. Hand to her throat, she asked, “What’s wrong?”

Pleased she hadn’t moved since he’d left, he said, “Naught. We leave now.” He motioned to his left. “Grab as much ash as ye can. We need to mask Thor.”

She hurried to the pile of spent embers. “But, but...go where?”

Ian strode to Thor and tightened his girth straps. “London.”

Kate stumbled and nearly fell. “London? I don’t understand. Why would you risk your life to take me home?”

Because I’ve gone totally mad.

“Ye’ll understand soon enough. Now do as I say and start rubbing on Thor’s hindquarters with ash. He stands out against the forest like a boil on the proud man’s nose.”

“Proud man’s...ye’ve gone mad, MacKay.”

He smiled. Astute, he would give her that .

Kate suddenly threw her arms about his neck. “Thank you, thank you!” She gave him a smacking kiss on the lips before burying her face against his neck.

Not kenning what to say, for bringing her home was not his primary intent—-he’d go without her had he the choice--he placed his hands at her waist, readying to push her away and heard her whisper as if to herself, “I do so love you, Ian MacKay.”

His heart tripped. Nay. He couldn’t have heard her correctly. More, if she had said what he thought she’d said, surely it was only relief speaking, her joy in learning she’d live to see another day.

Feeling undone, as much by the feel of her breasts pressed against his chest as by her words, he eased her from him. “Enough. Go fetch the ash.”

Kate, looking positively giddy, murmured, “As ye wish, my lord.”

“Humph.”

Together they slathered Thor with ashes from nares to tail. Within minutes, his mighty destrier looked a proper bloody ruin.

Ian clapped the dust from his hands. “Perfect. Now don yer cape, woman. We have to go.”

As Kate grabbed her cape, Ian threw Thor’s reins over his head and led him to the entrance, where he caught the scent of smoke on the wind. Damn. The pockpuds would discover the dead guard at any moment.

He turned to hurry Kate along and found her, still grinning, running toward him. “Humph.”

He tossed her into the saddle and vaulted up behind her. “Hold tight. The going will be steep.”

~#~

Frowning, Kate looked left and then right over the rolling landscape dotted with the occasional copse and scattered black-faced sheep. Above them a warming sun was trying to burn through a dense buff haze.

Umm...If they were heading south, then the rising sun should be at her left shoulder, not dead ahead. She looked over her shoulder at Ian and caught him grinning. Why, she couldn’t imagine. “You’re heading in the wrong direction.”

“We’re fine.”

“No.” She pointed right. “The sun rises in the east, therefore south is that way.” Since her father could take direction no better than the man at her back, she grumbled, “Is it your sex that makes taking direction so difficult?”

“My shaft is just fine, but thanks for asking.”

She twisted to find his gaze on the horizon but with his dimples struggling to make an appearance. “Augh.” She poked him in the ribs. “You know well what I mean.”

“True, and we’re heading east.”

She gaped at him. “Whatever for?”

“Ye’ll see soon enough. ”

“I’ll see--?” She huffed in exasperation. Ian had said little since they’d left the cave. No doubt ruminating over her confession, but still, she would have greatly appreciated knowing why they were going east and what he intended.

She still couldn’t believe her good fortune. He was taking her home. And the more she thought on his doing so, the more perplexing she found it. Oh, she was most grateful, no question there, but what had he to gain? Why would he-—

Ian pulled back on the reins. “Look, supper.”

“Huh?” She saw naught but acres of green oats on either side of her.

“Piss-a–beds. There.”

Scowling, she looked down in the direction he pointed and found a patch of dandelions. “Oh!” They were edible. Hallelujah. Now, if they just had a pot to boil them in and some salted pork, they’d be all set.

Her mouth watering after the impossible, she asked, “Now why on earth would you call them piss-a-beds?”

Ian dropped Thor’s reins. “Think on it.”

She did. “Oh.”

He stood in his left stirrup and started to dismount, then humphed and settled back behind her. Grabbing her by the waist, he muttered, “Best I stay in the saddle and you gather, else I find myself a beggar again.”

Kate rolled her eyes. No way would she even consider stealing Thor now that he was taking her home—-albeit the long way, but then she had stolen his destrier on more than one occasion so supposed she couldn’t fault him overmuch.

The dandelion greens gathered in a fold of her skirts, she stood and found Ian staring at her exposed legs. She cleared her throat and his gaze immediately lifted to her face. “Would you please take these or give me a hand up?”

He grumbled, kicked out of his stirrup and leaned over. “Just put yer left foot there.” She did as bid and his arm came about her ribs, his fingers brushing her breasts. As heat flashed in her middle, he hefted her with one bulging arm and she was in the saddle, squashed firmly between his hips and thighs. A most distracting place if ever there was one.

Whilst he appeared comfortable enough with their riding arrangement and any gait, she found trotting the least distressing and wished he would do more of it. Whilst she bounced and struggled to keep her balance, she wasn’t as aware of his heat, the feel of his powerful thighs rubbing against hers, as she was when they simply walked. And cantering...She shivered just thinking about how often he’d managed to stay deeply seated whilst she went up and down like a puppet, landing on or against his groin. In the last three hours it had become more than a bit too apparent that Ian had something besides London on his mind. Lauds!

She handed him a healthy share of the dandelion as they took off again. Chewing her first bite her lips and cheeks puckered. Good graces, she’d forgotten how bitter some raw greens could be. But bitter or not, they would ease the hunger pangs.

After a bit she said, “Tell me about yer life.”

“Not much to tell. I’m an emissary and travel on court business, more often than not negotiating bride prices and treaties. Occasionally I travel to the continent.”

Kate rolled her eyes. The man at her back was a good bit more but exactly what she was not sure. “And your family?”

“Ye’ve met Shamus. I also have a younger sister, Mary Kelsea, who is now married and has three babes. The youngest, a lad, will be two on Michalmas.”

When he grew silent she frowned. “Parents?”

She felt him shrug. “Nay. They’ve been gone a very long time.”

“My condolences.” Although she and her father were constantly at odds, even the thought of losing him she found appalling.

“Thank ye, and what is yer life like in London?”

She cocked her head to look at him. “Not so fast. What of your home?”

“I live at Stirling.”

That one room? How depressing. She and Father had three they could call their own. “What of a ladywife?” Handsome as Ian was, he had to be a widower.

“I’ve never wed.”

Surprised, Kate murmured, “Why ever not?”

He slipped an arm about her waist. “Enough of me. Tell me about your life.”

Not satisfied but realizing she would get no more out of him, Kate sighed. And what was there to say about her life? It was porridge compared to his. “Mother died when I was little more than a babe, so I was raised in and about court. Then James arrived. When he was young, I provided him company, during which I taught him etiquette, introduced him to the arts since Father, his actual tutor, focused solely on England’s history and laws as directed by our king. Now that James is grown he dictates when and how often we meet. My life up until recently then grew mundane. I got up each morn, tended to father’s needs, went to market, did laundry and if there was time before Father returned, I painted.”

“Painted what?”

“Images of anything I find interesting. I use pigments of my own making and apply them to whatever wood I can find.”

“I’d like to see them someday.”

She grinned. “No, you wouldn’t.” Her skills were so far beneath those artists decorating the chapels and cathedrals of London—-her measuring rod of talent—-that he would likely fall down laughing.

Ian leaned forward and murmured in her ear. “Tell me...Is there really a Monsieur Bottes?”

His warm breath caused chills to race down her neck and spine. Worse, pride got the better of her. “Yes.”

He gave her middle a tight squeeze. “Explain.”

Umm. “Mister Boots was alive and well when last I saw him, but Father really dislikes him.” Particularly when he brushed against Father’s best cloak and left fur all over it.

“Humph. I think I like yer fa—- shit !”

Kate fell back against Ian as Thor lunged forward and into an all-out run. Holding on to the pummel she yelled, “What’s wrong?”

“Behind and to yer right. A large party.”

Kate craned her neck to look past Ian’s shoulder and saw several black dots and a large cloud of dust.

Looking forward, searching the area for a hiding spot, she shouted, “English?”

“I know not and have no desire to find out.” After a moment Ian yelled, “Lass, can ye swim?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never tried!”

Kate thought she heard Ian curse.

A moment later she cursed, realizing they were taking a northern heading. She’d never get to her father at this rate.

It wasn’t until they crested a hill and she saw a wide, fast-flowing river to her right that she understood why he had asked if she could swim. Grateful he had changed course she now wondered how they would get through the thick band of forest before them.

~#~

Ian brought Thor to a halt, bounded out of the saddle and reached for Kate. “Hie, lass. ”

The minute her feet hit the ground he threw Thor’s reins over his head and handed them to Kate. Pointing to a small break in the foliage, he said, “Lead him as straight east as ye can and try not to break any branches as ye go. I’ll be right behind ye.”

After Kate pulled Thor forward Ian found a sturdy broken pine bough. Backing up, he started sweeping leaves and pine needles over Thor’s distinctive tracks.

An hour later he was looking at a very familiar boulder, one he was very sure he’d passed not ten minutes earlier.

Kate was walking in circles.

Cursing, praying the men behind them had slowed, he followed the fresh tracks.

A moment later he squeezed past Thor and patted his rump. Coming up behind Kate he tapped her shoulder. “Kate.”

She jerked around, her free hand flying to her heart. Looking annoyed she hissed, “You nearly startled me to death.”

“What the hell are ye doing going in circles?”

Her mouth gaped open before she placed a hand on her hip and started thumping a foot. “And how am I supposed to know that?”

Deep breath in, deep breath out. “Kate, just look at the sun and go east.”

She thrust a finger skyward. “And where might that sun be? Huh?”

Ian looked up at the dense canopy. “Humph. ”

He, and every man he knew, instinctively discerned direction if not by the sun then by taking note of everything from shadows to river flows, to moss growth and the direction of felled trees. But apparently, not so women.

Nay, Kate hadn’t seen anything the least odd in repeatedly passing the same friggin’ cottage-sized boulder !

“Kate, can ye at least sweep?”

She straightened, her eyes narrowing and lips thinning. “Do not even think to mock me, sir, or you will rue this day.”

God’s teeth, may the saints preserve him. They didn’t have time for this. The enemy was, no doubt, already sniffing along the tree line.

He placed a hand over his heart. “Kate, dearest, love, lambikins, I meant no insult. ‘Tis just that we need move on with all due haste. The enemy, after all, follows. If ye would be so kind as to sweep over our tracks as I’ve been doing for the last hour, I would be most pleased to lead the horse east.”

Appearing somewhat mollified, she huffed and snatched the branch from his hand. “Fine. By all means lead on.”

In short order they emerged from the wood and Ian lifted Kate into the saddle. Pointing to the distant cottages before them, he murmured, “Tis Cove. We’ll find food there.”

Keeping to the gravel track, Ian pushed Thor until the destrier’s sides were slathered in sweat.

Entering the wee village, he brought Thor down to a trot else he run over one of the scattering sheep or bairns. Before a wee barn, he reined in and jumped from the saddle. As he reached for Kate, the barn door squeaked open.

“MacKay.”

Ian grinned at Bret Home, a wiry, dark-headed man of thirty or so, who made his living pirating. “How are ye, friend?”

Bret, his gaze locked on Kate, grumbled, “As fair as can be, given the times. Who is this?”

Ian made the introductions as he led Thor into the barn.

Bret closed the doors behind him. “Bury yer tack and saddle beneath the hay. Mistress, a pleasure to make yer acquaintance. Now, fetch that bucket yon.”

Muttering, “Lovely friends, MacKay,” Kate headed for the bucket as he reached under his saddle for Thor’s girth strap.

Humph! She was obviously still annoyed with him.

Bret, his gaze on Kate’s hips, grumbled, “How many follow this time?”

“Eight, mayhap ten. About an hour behind.”

Bret spit onto the straw-strew barn floor while Ian lifted the saddle from Thor. Answering Bret’s unasked question, he murmured, “Greenwich.”

Bret arched an eyebrow. Leaving Bret to think on it, Ian carried his saddle up to the loft .

Finally Bret called up, “I’ll fetch the manure, then get the Sea Witch ready. I need to make a wine run anyway.”

His saddle and tack buried, Ian climbed down and found Kate, her sleeves rolled up to the elbows, washing Thor down with dung-colored water and his horse looking none too thrilled about it. He reached for the rag hanging over the bucket edge and started doing the same. “Where’s Bret?”

Kate peered under Thor and frowned. “He’s fetching meat and drink, bless him.” She wiped between Thor’s front legs. “This is not a bad color. Ochre, I think.”

“Humph.” Looked like shit to him.

As she wiped down his destrier’s face and he soaked the poor beast’s rump, Kate asked, “Will we spend the night here?”

He caught her hopeful note and reached for more foul water. “Nay. As soon as Bret returns and Thor’s made safe, we go to the boat.”

Kate froze mid-wipe. “Boat?”

“Do ye have a problem with boats?” Better he learn of it now than later.

She resumed rubbing down Thor. “No, no, you just surprised me.”

A side door creaked open, and Ian’s hand flew to the hilt of his broadsword. Seeing Home’s wife, he relaxed and grinned. “Hey, Iona, good to see you.”

Iona--a stout, flame-haired Highlander who had never tolerated fools easily and had thus remained a maid well past her twenties--cast a wary glance at him. “If you’ve brought trouble down on our heads, Ian, you will be sorry you ever laid eyes on me.”

She hadn’t changed a bit in five years. Grinning, he dropped the cloth and took the food and ale bag from her hands. “Lovely and as acerbic as ever, Iona. You are a dautie dear.” He planted a smacking kiss on her cheek, causing her to blush.

Liking her and liking Bret, a Lowlander who, in Ian’s opinion had been in sore need of a wife, he had arranged their introduction and thus took full credit for their marriage.

Grinning, he leaned toward her and wiggled an eyebrow. “How goes your love life?”

She laughed and slapped his arm. “None of your bloody business.”

The door creaked again and Bret entered. “Word’s gone out to the crew. Best you finish with that horse and eat, for the sooner we’re off the better.”

Thinking it wisest, Ian said, “We’ll eat on the way to the ship.”

“ Ship ? But you just said boat! ”

All eyes turned toward Kate. Ian closed the distance between them. “Aye, we will take the boat to the ship, which lurk in the next cove. If there’s a problem, Katie, speak now, lass, whilst we still have a chance to change course.”

Kate nibbled her lower lip. “No, ‘tis fine. Fine. Fine. ”

Despite her reassurances, the hairs on Ian’s arms stood at attention. Why was it that whenever Kate muttered fine in that tone it never boded well?

Thor was finally the color of dung from tip to tail.

Suspecting it would take a good year before he was white again, Ian patted Thor’s nose and turned him out into the paddock. “I’ll be back, lad, don’t you worry.”

Thor blew divisively before grabbing a mouthful of sea grass.

Ian returned to the barn to find Kate and Iona whispering like conspirators in the corner. “Humph.”

Bret handed him a familiar leather pouch. In it he found the forged documents he’d left years ago and L100 in coins. A fortune to the man before him. “Thanks, friend.”

Bret wiggled a finger at Katie. “Lass, we had best be off.”

Ian took Iona’s hands in his and pressed several coins into her palm, knowing better than to offer them to Bret. “Take care, dautie. I wish ye well.”

Brow furrowed, she patted his cheek. “God’s speed, Ian.” Almost as an afterthought she added, “Be sure to bring the lass back when next you pass. I like her.”

High praise.

He nodded, regretting how easily he could lie to a friend.

~# ~

I do believe I’m going to be seriously ill.

Standing knee deep in sea oats, Kate stared over the Cove’s headland. The steeply pitched path before her led down to a black rock beach a good hundred feet below and on that beach sat the dinky little boat Ian fully intended to put her in. She had barely survived her first sea voyage with her mind intact and now this.

Her middle rumbled as wave after foamy wave crashed into the rear of the little boat, causing it to rise and thrust forward, only to fall back and scrape back across the rocks as each wave receded.

Look up. Don’t think about what’s happening below.

Her gaze settled on the ominous thunderheads lining the horizon. Not good. Find something else.

In the middle ground, she found only the roiling sea which hid every manner of beast laying in wait beneath its slimy, slate-grey surface. Sharks and killer whales with teeth as large as her fist. Squid that could suck a man’s face off. Treacherous eels and slimy Man-of-War that would sting her to death.

Oh God, when next I see Sir Gregory I’m going to geld him and shove his balls down his throat .

“Kate?”

She opened her eyes to find Ian holding out his hand. “Come, lass, we need to hurry before we lose the tide.”

She swallowed, trying to loosen her tongue from the roof of her mouth. Reluctantly she took his hand, barely mindful of its warmth and strength.

Halfway down the treacherous slope, she garnered what little courage she had left to her and asked, “If put to the test, do you think you could slay a whale with that broadsword of yours?”

If he could, then surely he could handle a shark or a squid, although she did hear tell that there were squid as large as Spanish galleons. Augh!

She looked up and found Ian staring at her. “What?”

His brow was deeply furrowed. “A whale ?”

She nodded most vigorously. “Aye.”

“Of course, Kate, I’m a knight. We do it—kill--all the time.”

“Oh.” She hadn’t realized whale slaying was part of knight training. It did explain why she’d never heard tell of a knight being swallowed by a whale despite they’re forever sailing to the continent and going off on crusades whilst multiple sailors--who everyone knew received no initial training since most were conscripted--frequently had been swallowed.

Feeling ever so much better she mustered a smile. “That’s good to know. Thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

Why he shook his head when he started down the path again, she couldn’t imagine. It wasn’t as if knights spent their days talking to her. Ian was the first who ever had.

And she still didn’t think much of getting into a dingy that had spent its day scraping across rocks. If one really thought on it...How sturdy could the bottom possibly be after all that abuse? Really.