Ailsa was suddenly acutely aware of her tatty dress and dirty face and the fact that she looked like a poor village girl and one who was far away from the protection of the castle walls. Fingal was a good looking horse and his saddle and bridle were made of fine leather so of course, this man would assume the worst of her.
One of the other men, a big blonde ruffian, shouted. ‘If the lass is unhurt Duncan we should press on or we’ll be missed. Put her down and you can seek her out for a tumble later.’
‘Aye Rory, I will,’ replied the man. ‘Where is your home lass, is it far?’
‘In the village of Cailleach - at the tavern,’ Ailsa lied smoothly. ‘Now I am not hurt, I am fit to ride and I demand you get your hands off me’.
‘I don’t think you’re in a position to demand anything and I’ll let go when I’ve a mind to and not before lass. Bring her horse,’ he shouted commandingly to one of his companions.
Fingal, who hadn’t gone far after his disloyal display, was brought over, snorting and jumping. He didn’t like these men any more than she did. Anger bubbled up inside of Ailsa, with this man, with her life, with herself for having got into this situation. Sore all over, she knew there was a sound whipping in store for her back at Cailleach and now this brute and his friends were treating her like a fool.
‘What’s your name?’
‘Mairead,’ Ailsa lied again.
‘Can you mount Mairead?’
‘Of course I can.’ Ailsa grabbed Fingal’s saddle and tried to get up but when she put full weight on her leg she stumbled and moaned with the pain of it, instinctively grabbing for her ankle. Forced to clutch on to the muscular arm holding her up, she hated to give the man the satisfaction of needing his help.
‘So you are hurt. Fetch up your skirts girl so that I can have a look at that leg,’ he said kneeling swiftly.
‘I willnot.Howdareyou,’ replied Ailsa in outrage and to the amusement of his friends who started laughing again.
He got up and narrowed his eyes at her. ‘I must say you have a very haughty manner for a tavern wench. Where did you learn such airs?’
‘She doesn’t fancy you Duncan, best leave her be,’ said the man called Rory.
Just then one of the horses sank its big, yellow teeth spitefully into Fingal’s flank. Startled again and intimidated by all the bigger horses surrounding him, he wrenched free of her grasp and pounded off along the track. Ailsa watched his traitorous rump disappear from view with dismay.
‘Well, that settles it. There’s nothing else for it Mairead. I cannot in all honour leave you injured in these woods.’
‘Honour!’
‘You’ll have to ride with me and you shall have my escort to Cailleach,’ said her captor smiling broadly.
‘But I don’t want your…!’
Before she had time to argue he picked her up, hoisting her onto his saddle as if she weighed no more than a goose feather. He threw himself up behind her and to her horror, Ailsa found her back pressed up against his chest and her whole body enclosed by a prison of hard thighs and muscular forearms.
‘I’m Duncan, by the way,’ he said cheerfully. ‘And I’m very pleased to make your acquaintance. You’ve certainly livened up our journey this morning.’
Ailsa could feel his body pressing against hers. She tried to pull forward and away but he pulled her in close.
‘Stop wriggling else you’ll fall off again,’ he said sharply, wrapping one arm around her waist and pinning her to him. She had no choice but to quieten and endure it.
Duncan controlled his horse with ease as they rode hard towards Cailleach and he made no further attempt to speak. The silence made Ailsa keenly aware of him. She looked down at his hands, broad, scarred and capable of breaking her neck like a chicken bone. It would be best to use guile to outwit him for confronting him had only made him overbearing. She had to slip away from these men and get back into the safety of Cailleach.
The highland weather had begun to close in and black clouds, ripe with rain, loomed overhead. By the time the village came into view, nestled haphazardly up against the shelter of the castle walls, Ailsa was shivering violently in her muddy clothes and glad of Duncan’s warmth on her back.He seemed to sense her discomfort and pulled her even closer. The rain started to fall, fat drops plopping onto the muddy ground and suddenly the heavens opened.
They wound their way amongst the maze of stone dwellings as rain began to drip noisily off the rough thatch roofs. The mouth-watering smell of fresh bannocks wafted from the bakers, mixing with the tang of metal and wood smoke from the blacksmith and Ailsa felt comforted to be almost home. Though she was fearful that someone would see her with this man, in such a state, not many people were abroad now most having taken shelter indoors out of the downpour. If she was lucky she might get out of this predicament unscathed, just a bit longer to hold her nerve.
When they got to the tavern, Duncan pulled up his horse and dismounted smoothly. He reached for her, pulling her down from the saddle and against his chest. Ailsa tried to avoid his penetrating gaze on her face as she was placed gently on the sodden ground.
‘Here we are lass. Best get in out of the wet and rest that ankle. I’ll come and find you soon so there’s no need to pine for me,’ he smiled, winking at her.
‘I’d as soon pine for that pig over there as you,’ Ailsa retorted, gesturing to a fat sow and her piglets in a nearby stall, ‘and I hope never to lay eyes on you again.’
‘Fine thanks I get for helping aladyin distress,’ he laughed back, his friends laughing along with him. Ailsa didn’t like the sarcastic way he said ‘lady’. He leaned over, his wicked brown eyes piercing her soul and whispered in her ear. ‘You’ll sing a different tune when I’m between your legs taking you lass. I promise you’ll beg for more.’