‘Don’t do anything like that again. Even if that old man had taken you with him, he could be dangerous, and how far do you think you would have gotten before someone else preyed on you, with no coin and no man to protect you?’
‘Is that what you think you are doing, protecting me?’
‘I am trying to, whether you believe it or not. And all I get for my trouble is a slap in the face.’
‘You deserve it, and much worse, for what you have done. I am soaked and freezing and tired.’
‘That is your own fault, for fleeing from me.’
‘I just want to go home.’
‘You can’t.’
Lyall’s arm dug into her stomach, and something snapped inside her. All the humiliation and fear, the helplessness and uncertainty of her situation, crashed in on her. She lost all reason, and blind fury took hold.
She hated this Scot. She hated him, this ignorant, callous, arrogant man.
Giselle elbowed backwards, hitting Lyall in the ribs. She squirmed violently to free herself, alarming the horse, who pushed further into the surf. The Scot tried to jerk the reins around and point the skittish beast back to the sand, but he only had one hand free, and Giselle was not about to make it easy for him. The beast was now hock-deep in the water, and, unnerved by the waves, it began snorting and swerving this way and that.
‘I hope an English sword guts you, as soon as may be,’ she shrieked.
That seemed to affect Lyall for he jerked her up against him and snarled against her ear, ‘One more word from you and, I swear, I will bend you over my knee and thrash you, as I promised to.’
‘Of course, you would, you sick lecher,’ she retorted, scratching at his fingers. ‘You disgust me, you are a thug, you are a miserable grub of a man, and your kiss was vile - slimy and awful and…’
With one tug of his arm, Lyall flung her from the horse, and Giselle landed with a splash in the icy water. As she came up, spluttering with shock, a wave crashed over her head and took her legs from under her, sending her surging into shore in an ungainly heap, face down. Sand went everywhere - in her mouth, down her dress, up between her legs, inside her nose. As she tried to push herself upwards, two hooves appeared in front of her. Giselle rose to her feet, staggering sideways, sweeping gritty hair off her face and spitting out sand.
‘You remind me of a cat my sister once had, Giselle. I dunked it in the horse trough once, just to annoy her. It had exactly the same look of outraged pride as you have now.’
Lyall’s face was a war of guilt and mirth as he looked down on her, so she glared back at him, hands clenched in fists.
‘My but you’ve a hot temper on you, lass. You look meek, but you’re not, are you? Have you cooled down enough to behave?’
‘Cooled down! I could take a chill and die from this,’ she spluttered.
‘On a fine summer’s day, I think not, though that would give me some respite I suppose,’ he said, smiling arrogantly.
‘You are hateful to throw me in the water.’
‘Aye, perhaps it was a bit unkind, but all of your whining was making my ears bleed.’
Humiliation made Giselle’s bottom lip tremble and the tears welled up in her eyes.
‘Aw come on, not that, not the tears again. Come,’ he said, holding out a hand once more, ‘we have a way to go before nightfall, can’t tarry here in the wind. Take my hand, Giselle.’
‘No,’ she sobbed.
‘Take it, girl, if you know what’s good for you,’ he said, in a harder voice and Giselle was so tired and miserable she could think of nothing else to do. He pulled her up, behind him this time, and pulled her arms around his belly. ‘Hold on tight, wouldn’t want you falling off again,’ he said cheerfully, as they rode back up the beach and went in search of her horse.
They could not find the wretched beast, it had chosen freedom and wandered off, which irritated the Scot, and many curse words followed. With the sun lowering in the sky, they set off without it. Giselle was forced to lean into Lyall’s back as they pounded along. He seemed in a great hurry.
The tears came as they rode on, hour after hour, and the dress clung, cool and clammy, to her back and legs. Though she hated herself for it, Giselle ended up sobbing against his back.
Lyall slowed his horse to a walk. ‘Giselle, forgive me for tossing you into the water.’
‘I don’t want to talk to you.’
‘Yes you do, ‘t’will pass the time more pleasantly. Are you cold?’