The Cursed by MacRae Cathy

Author:MacRae, Cathy
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Medieval, Romance
Publisher: WolfeBane Publishing, Inc.
Published: 2019-12-27T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

Rain dripped through the leafy canopy, scattering autumn leaves in a varicolored riot across the forest floor. Water seeped steadily from the edges of plaides pulled low over furrowed brows, soaking everything it touched, denying the men the warmth of a campfire. Liam squatted near a large boulder, using its bulk to keep the worst of the wind at bay. Chief Maxwell paced the sodden leaves, his muted plaide blending with the rain-soaked browns and grays of low-hanging branches.

“I havenae seen such a storm in years,” one of the men complained. “I’d sooner be home than squatting here in the rain.”

A muffled derisive snort of disagreement rumbled. “I’d sit here all day, soaked to the skin, to avoid my wee wife. She’s a right ghast no matter she’s a bonnie lass.”

“Ye’ve sired six bairns on her,” came the mocking reply. “Took ye long enough to decide she frightens ye.”

Half-hearted laughter rippled through the motley group.

Chief Maxwell spun about, his face contorted with rage. “Enough! I willnae sit here and catch my death and do naught about the English. I willnae give them the last laugh.”

Sensing the need to appease his chief, Liam rose. “I’ve another use for this dreicht weather.”

Interest and attitude shifted. Liam warmed to his subject.

“It seems to me we should use this rain in our favor.”

“Wee Rupert thought the same, and the bloody English pierced him with an arrow.” A murmur of agreement answered. Rupert gripped the bandage about his meaty thigh with an apologetic glance at his chief.

Liam agreed with a half-grin. “Aye, but we’ve an English knight to show for Rupert’s pains.”

Heads turned to the man tied against a sturdy tree. Stripped of his light armor, he sported mud, a bit of blood, and dark stains on his skin that would soon blossom into impressive bruises, marking the trouble he’d given Liam and his men.

“Why keep him?” someone grumbled. “Naught but an aggravation watching over him tied like that.”

The knight paled beneath the grime.

“Aye, a shame to waste our time and efforts. But he might be worth a fair bit of ransom. Him and the fine horse we took off their hands.” Liam grinned as the Englishman tested his bonds.

Albert Maxwell sloshed through the puddles and approached the bound man. His fingertips drummed lightly on the hilt of the dagger at his belt.

“What were ye doing away from Eaglesmuir?” he demanded.

The man shifted slightly, but did not reply. The chief scowled and tucked his chin in a menacing gesture. Tension thrummed in the small clearing. Silence stretched to the breaking point. Liam held his breath as Chief Maxwell slowly drew his dirk.

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