‘Try telling the English that. Now, as to the village you mention, aye, ‘twas us who raided it, and such slim pickings to be had, ‘twas hardly worth the risk. We sail our ships along the coast and strike inland. It all aids the war effort, though that is not our intention. We don’t care about King Robert’s desire to keep his arse on the throne. We just take what he want and ask leave of no man.’
‘So, you are an outlaw then.’
‘I am beyond God’s and the King’s law if that is what you mean.’ William O’Neill kicked the dirt at his feet. ‘Who is this you have with you? Care to trade her?
‘No.’
‘Perhaps I’ll just take her.’
‘If you try and touch her, I will kill you.’
‘It’s not worth dying over a woman. Give her up quietly, and we’ll let you continue on your way. I swear she’ll come to no harm with me.’
‘You are nothing but a villain, and hear me, touch one hair on her head, and I will gut you.’
The villain turned back to his men. ‘I think the fool is in love, and he wants a fight.’
Lyall glowered at him.
‘So, who is she, this beauty for whom you would lay down your life? Your wife?’
‘No.’
‘Well, I sincerely hope she’s not your sister, given the way you were rubbing up against her. Did we disturb a lover’s tryst?’
‘Do not speak of her like that,’ snarled Lyall.
Will O’Neill took a step closer and looked past Lyall’s shoulder.
‘Are you wed, lass?’
‘Leave her be.’
‘If you are a free woman, and have no protector but this dog here,’ he continued, ‘then perhaps you should ride with me instead. ‘Tis a long time since I saw such a bonnie one as you, and I’m partial to redheads.’ He turned back to Lyall. ‘Fiery they say, in bed and out, though you seem to have her docile enough.’
‘Leave her be, I said.’
William O’Neill stepped closer with a bold indifference to Lyall’s hostile glare. ‘Why don’t we let the lass decide if she wants you, or a real man? What do you say lass?’ he said, winking at Giselle.
‘I would rather die than let a villainous wretch like you put one hand on me,’ said Giselle.
Will laughed, deep and throaty. ‘English! Upon my word!’
Lyall rounded on Giselle. ‘Silence,’ he hissed.
‘Is she a prisoner, or an English spy, Buchanan? I’d guess prisoner judging by the miserable look on her face when you were fondling her. Are you smuggling her north for some terrible purpose? What will your sister Morna say about it, when you ride into Beharra?
‘What do you know of Beharra and my sister?’ said Lyall, as a cold feeling ran down his spine.
‘Not as much as I’d like to. Our paths crossed once, and I owe the lass a debt. Is she still as bonnie as all hell?’
‘What debt?’
‘She saved my life at Bannockburn. There was a small misunderstanding with some of King Robert’s soldiers as to where my allegiance lay. I promised her I would repay her. Perhaps I should travel along to Beharra with you, and become re-acquainted.’
‘She is not at Beharra. She is married, long since, and bides in her husband’s house.’
The man’s arrogance evaporated like a mist, replaced by a look of utter desolation. His fist tightened on the hilt of his sword. ‘Wed you say? Then her husband is a lucky man, and I wish her joy, with all my heart.’ His words were anything but joyous.