this.” Ewan held up the walking stick he’d prepared himself. “I assume ye can fight.” Ewan gave him an assessing glance.
“Used to be the captain of the guard for my laird,” Rory said—until his laird’s castle and lands were seized, the entire clan massacred and Rory decided to take a vow of solitude, which led him to Moira. “We’ll have to fight with our staffs.”
“I can fight,” Shona said. “I’ve done it before.” Then she winked at Ewan.
“Nay, not this time, love,” Ewan said, pulling her in for a quick kiss.
Seeing that moment of affection made Rory wish he and Moira were as close. They’d get there again. He vowed it. For now, he settled on kissing the top of her stubborn head.
Shona rushed over to Moira and grabbed her hand. “Come on, we need to get up this tree and hide.”
“Up the tree?” Moira looked baffled. “No way. I’m ready to wake up now. I’m ready.”
“Shh!” Shona hissed. “They’ll hear ye, and we’ve got to keep hidden.”
Fire filled Moira’s eyes and for the first time since they’d landed back in his time, Rory started to see the return of some of the backbone he knew Moira possessed.
“Fine. But I’m going to need more than whisky after this. I want a turkey leg, too.”
“Aye.” Rory chuckled, though his skin was prickling as he heard whoever stalked the woods getting closer. “I’ll give ye a boost, and when we’re through, I’ll get ye whatever ye want.” Effortlessly he picked her up, thrilling at the feel of her lush legs on his palms. “Grab hold of that tree limb and swing yourself up.”
She did as he instructed, scrambling up into the foliage, then stood on the limb to reach for a higher one.
Rory was about to ask if she should do that when Shona said, “She was great at climbing trees as a kid. And she did gymnastics, great on the high bars. Anyways, I suspect it’s a skill she’s not lost.”
Shona effortlessly swung herself up into the tree—obviously a skill that both twins possessed, but Rory had no more time to think on it. Not a second after the lassies disappeared, a grungy-looking trio of men pushed through the thorn bushes, not seeming to care the least for the barbs that snagged their clothes.
They stopped short, but the stench of them did not. Rory’s eyes almost watered. They smelled of piss, ale and a year or two’s worth of filth.
“ Sassenachs ,” the shortest of the three hissed, spittle falling from his lips.
“Hate to disappoint ye, mate,” Rory said. “But we’re Scots through and through.”
“Why ye dressed like that then?”
Dammit. He glanced down at his denim pants and cotton shirt. Ewan was still in his prison garb.
Rory shrugged. “Helps us blend in.”
The men screwed up their faces as though he’d said he was a mermaid in disguise. Rory loved to harass with imbeciles. The trio of buffoons didn’t say anything to that, and several very tense moments passed between them all as Rory studied their weapons, clothes and anything they might have hidden beneath. He and Ewan could easily overtake them, but he’d not even accept a thousand gold coins to wear their filthy, lice-riddled clothes. Not on his life. Well, maybe if his life was in danger, but it wasn’t yet.
“What are ye doing in our territory?” the man in the center, perhaps their leader, if there was one, said, then burped loudly and bent over as though he might retch.
“Your territory?” Rory asked, grimacing in disgust. “Are ye the laird?” His tone was filled with sarcasm.
The leader pulled his sword from the scabbard at his hip and stabbed the tip into the ground, then leaned on it for balance. “So what if I am? Ye’ll have to pay a tax to get around me.”
“How would ye like us to pay?” Rory glanced at Ewan who was nonchalantly spinning the tip of his staff in the ground.
“Well, that’s easy. Give us all your coin.”
“We dinna have any coin,” Rory answered. “Think ye, if we had coin,
“Used to be the captain of the guard for my laird,” Rory said—until his laird’s castle and lands were seized, the entire clan massacred and Rory decided to take a vow of solitude, which led him to Moira. “We’ll have to fight with our staffs.”
“I can fight,” Shona said. “I’ve done it before.” Then she winked at Ewan.
“Nay, not this time, love,” Ewan said, pulling her in for a quick kiss.
Seeing that moment of affection made Rory wish he and Moira were as close. They’d get there again. He vowed it. For now, he settled on kissing the top of her stubborn head.
Shona rushed over to Moira and grabbed her hand. “Come on, we need to get up this tree and hide.”
“Up the tree?” Moira looked baffled. “No way. I’m ready to wake up now. I’m ready.”
“Shh!” Shona hissed. “They’ll hear ye, and we’ve got to keep hidden.”
Fire filled Moira’s eyes and for the first time since they’d landed back in his time, Rory started to see the return of some of the backbone he knew Moira possessed.
“Fine. But I’m going to need more than whisky after this. I want a turkey leg, too.”
“Aye.” Rory chuckled, though his skin was prickling as he heard whoever stalked the woods getting closer. “I’ll give ye a boost, and when we’re through, I’ll get ye whatever ye want.” Effortlessly he picked her up, thrilling at the feel of her lush legs on his palms. “Grab hold of that tree limb and swing yourself up.”
She did as he instructed, scrambling up into the foliage, then stood on the limb to reach for a higher one.
Rory was about to ask if she should do that when Shona said, “She was great at climbing trees as a kid. And she did gymnastics, great on the high bars. Anyways, I suspect it’s a skill she’s not lost.”
Shona effortlessly swung herself up into the tree—obviously a skill that both twins possessed, but Rory had no more time to think on it. Not a second after the lassies disappeared, a grungy-looking trio of men pushed through the thorn bushes, not seeming to care the least for the barbs that snagged their clothes.
They stopped short, but the stench of them did not. Rory’s eyes almost watered. They smelled of piss, ale and a year or two’s worth of filth.
“ Sassenachs ,” the shortest of the three hissed, spittle falling from his lips.
“Hate to disappoint ye, mate,” Rory said. “But we’re Scots through and through.”
“Why ye dressed like that then?”
Dammit. He glanced down at his denim pants and cotton shirt. Ewan was still in his prison garb.
Rory shrugged. “Helps us blend in.”
The men screwed up their faces as though he’d said he was a mermaid in disguise. Rory loved to harass with imbeciles. The trio of buffoons didn’t say anything to that, and several very tense moments passed between them all as Rory studied their weapons, clothes and anything they might have hidden beneath. He and Ewan could easily overtake them, but he’d not even accept a thousand gold coins to wear their filthy, lice-riddled clothes. Not on his life. Well, maybe if his life was in danger, but it wasn’t yet.
“What are ye doing in our territory?” the man in the center, perhaps their leader, if there was one, said, then burped loudly and bent over as though he might retch.
“Your territory?” Rory asked, grimacing in disgust. “Are ye the laird?” His tone was filled with sarcasm.
The leader pulled his sword from the scabbard at his hip and stabbed the tip into the ground, then leaned on it for balance. “So what if I am? Ye’ll have to pay a tax to get around me.”
“How would ye like us to pay?” Rory glanced at Ewan who was nonchalantly spinning the tip of his staff in the ground.
“Well, that’s easy. Give us all your coin.”
“We dinna have any coin,” Rory answered. “Think ye, if we had coin,
Similar Books
