“How dare ye.” Saoirse balled her hands into fists.
“Call it a friendly warnin’.” The woman smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “It’ll start with him needin’ to go away on business, to tend to somethin’ at the border. He’ll pretend there’s a skirmish or some stolen sheep. Really, he’s rollin’ in the hay with some farmer’s lass. All ye have to do is look at the company yer husband keeps to ken he’s nae goin’ to have only ye to satisfy him.”
Saoirse’s jaw clenched. “That is quite enough.”
“I hear his Man-at-Arms has bedded every lass from here to Edinburgh,” the woman went on, regardless. “Do ye really think he’s doin’ that alone?”
Refusing to entertain the woman’s ramblings a moment longer, Saoirse turned on her heel, intending to march back to the road without another word. She’d barely taken a step before the woman seized Saoirse’s hand, yanking her back so hard she nearly lost her balance.
“Ye’d do well to listen to me,” the woman purred.
Terrified by the menace in the stranger’s voice, Saoirse fought to snatch her hand back. The woman’s grip was like a vise around Saoirse’s wrist, cutting off the blood. Not for the first time, it seemed that Saoirse’s caring spirit had come back to bite her.
“Unhand me!” Saoirse commanded. “I daenae ken who ye are, or who ye think ye are, but ye’ve nay right to touch me or speak of my husband like that!”
The woman leered. “Ye’re nae any Lady of mine. I can do as I please.”
“M’Lady!” A concerned shout echoed through the trees, accompanied by the thud of hooves.
With a start, the woman let go of Saoirse’s hand, before grabbing the edges of her cloak’s hood and tugging it over her head. A cold smile lingered in the shadows over her shrouded face.
“Daenae say ye werenae warned. I’m doin’ ye a kindness,” the woman whispered.
A second later, she whirled around and darted deeper into the forest. Saoirse tried to keep sight of the unnerving stranger, but it wasn’t long before the darkness of the forest swallowed the cloaked figure up. Only the distant crash and crumple of undergrowth let Saoirse know that the woman was still running, hopefully heading far away.
“I’m here!” Saoirse cried out, stumbling back toward the road with her nerves ablaze.
Scott pulled his horse to a halt, as a wave of relief washed over his face. “Mary said ye’d come walkin’ by yerself.” He slipped down from the saddle. “What are ye thinkin’, M’Lady? ‘Tisnae safe for ye to walk alone.”
“I saw nay harm in it,” Saoirse replied shakily.
“And now?” Scott’s gaze drifted to the trees. “What were ye doin’ in there, off the road?”
Saoirse shook her head. “It was nothin’. I thought I heard a wounded animal.”
As she didn’t know precisely what or who it was that she’d encountered, she thought it best to save the truth for Noah. Or, perhaps, she’d just keep it to herself. Otherwise, she could wave farewell to ever walking alone again.
“An animal?” Scott ran an anxious hand through his hair. “Ye must be more careful, M’Lady. Ye’ve a coin purse the size of a cow’s udder attached to yer hip. Any thief would think ye ripe for a robbin’ or worse.”
Saoirse bowed her head, chastened. “I sometimes forget that I’m nae at Baxter Keep anymore. I’m sorry if I worried ye and Mary.”
“Daenae apologize,” Scott replied, “but daenae do it again, either. Ye’re lucky Mary favors yer safety over her loyalty to lettin’ ye do as ye please.”
Saoirse nodded. “I’m grateful.”
“Come now, daenae hang yer head like that.” Scott offered his hand. “I can take ye to wherever ye were plannin’ to go, if ye’d like?”
“Nay, thank ye.” Saoirse tipped her head toward the horse. “I think I should like to return to the Castle now. I’ve lost my desire to go to the village.”
Scott seemed relieved. “As ye wish, M’Lady.” Bending on one knee, he patted his thigh. “Up ye get. Daenae worry about gettin’ dirt on my trews.”
Using his thigh as a step, Saoirse climbed up into the saddle. Holding onto the hardened leather edge, just behind the horse’s shoulders, she waited for Scott to take the reins and walk the beast back to the Castle. So, it came as something of a surprise when he asked her to shuffle back to make room.
“Pardon?” Her eyes widened.
“I’m late to a council meetin’, so I cannae be dawdlin’,” he explained, with a look of apology. “Ye can move all the way back, if it makes ye uncomfortable. I wouldnae take such a liberty, but as His Lairdship is away, the council will run riot without me to keep them in order.”
Saoirse swallowed. “Oh, I see. In that case—” She shuffled back to give him space.