Timeless

Chapter Six

The well water was not exactly the coolest in the world, but it certainly eased her red, sweat-drenched face.

"Did ye stop at all, Lass?" Shaw spoke from behind her. Ri had heard him coming, had seen him checking on her periodically from the battlements.

"Yes," she replied. "I'm stopping now."

"Ye mean ye ran fer five hours straight? Yer pace was nay exactly leisurely. Ye did nay slow at all?"

"Why would you believe that I didn't?" Ri sipped from her cupped hands. Shaw moved closer, resting his hip on the well wall beside her.

"Ye've nay lied tae me yet. And ye dinnea seem like the kind of lass tae lie about . . . anything really. And anyhow," he tipped his head back, hands gripping the wall behind him as he leaned into it, "what person, male nor female, would talk their way into a training yard where they most certainly were nay welcome, if they were nay certain they could keep up, maybe even surpass the men they were training with?" Shaw flicked her a glance out of the corner of lazy, half closed eyes. "There's more tae ye than meets the eye, My Lady. I've a feeling yer story is a sad one, and I've no desire tae cause ye more grief, nor tae put ye in anymore danger. But if staying active is what makes ye happy, fulfills ye, then I can understand that. And if ye continue tae display the skill and endurance ye showed today, ye can train with us any day."

"And what about your men's grumblings about witches and devil women? The battlements are tall, but voices carry, especially with how loud you people seem to speak."

"Tell me," Shaw chuckled, "ye near killed my best warrior today, my second in command. Ye've seen, and beaten, the best I have to offer. What would ye do tae make them stronger?"

Ri snorted, "I wouldn't. Your problem is that their too strong. Strength is a good thing, very useful, but too much of it only slows you down. What your men need is to lean down, to keep their strength, but hone their speed. Personally," she sucked down another couple of mouthfuls of water, "I'd make them run until their feet fell off. And then I'd drill them until their arms did the same."

"Aye," Shaw nodded as though he was commenting on nothing more than the fact that it was sunny today, although admittedly that was probably a novelty this time of year, but his voice was contemplative. "Come. I've had a bath drawn. Ye can was the dirt from yer – self," Ri almost smiled as he stumbled over himself, "and I'll have more of Hubert's trews waiting for ye when yer finished. If ye'll let the maids take yer measurements, I'm sure they can make ye some of yer own so that Hubert will nay have to hyperventilate when he pulls on every pair of his trews. And . . ." Shaw scratched the back of his neck, "mayhap ye'll consent to allowing a dress or two tae be made for festivals and such?" He sounded almost sheepish.

"Will we be staying that long?"

"I dinnae ken. Ye spoke of finding a way home tae yer siblings. Ye spoke as though 'twas more complicated than buying a few horses and riding south. From yer speech I ken yer nay English, at least nay any English I ken of. So yer from much farther away, mayhap more than I realize. So going home for ye is nay as easy as giving me a family name and a general landmark and trusting me tae get ye back there. So, yer under my care, and if tis in my power, I'll do what I can tae help ye find a way home. I am at yer disposal, My Lady, ye need only ask. But until then, I – I'm hoping that . . . mayhap ye'll be able tae find some enjoyment, some – some way tae help ease that sorrow behind yer eyes."

"You're a smart man, Shaw Logan," Ri looked closely at him. "A very smart, very strange man. Shouldn't you be throwing me over your shoulder, locking me in some tower and proclaiming that women are forbidden to take up arms and that the battlefield is not my place?"

"Many people think that, aye," Shaw chuckled. "But I was raised by a woman who was a lot like ye. She was determined to do what she wanted and damn the consequences. Mayhap she ne'er stepped foot on the battlefield, but she ne'er backed down from a challenge and she always encouraged my brother and I tae ne'er underestimate the strength of a woman. And I ne'er kenned what she meant, until I met ye.

"Come," Shaw held out his hand. Ri found her own enveloped in his before she really had a chance to think about it. "Bath, then measurements. Then mayhap ye can stop yer siblings from bickering o'er every little thing."

"Ah, you noticed that." Ri let Shaw tuck her hand around his arm and lead her into the castle.

"Noticed? The two make my brother and I look like kittens. And we're Scotts. Our fights usually break everything in sight," Shaw laughed. Really laughed, loud and warm. And his smile was exactly the right mix of mischievous and sext to make her grip his arm just a little harder.

"Yeah, they don't really get along," Ri grimaced.

"Aye, they dinnae. And I've been told that neither of them appreciate our accommodations. Your sister is dissatisfied with her wardrobe, although for different reasons than yours I gather, and your brother has complained about the lack of something called weewee?"

Ri couldn't help it. That word coming out of his mouth and the way he pronounced it with that accent . . . She sagged against him while catching her breath as the last of her mirth died down. She was still chuckling to herself a half hour later as she finished up scrubbing the last of the dirt from her skin.

"My Lady, this is nay how tis done!" The Ladies Maid knocked on the door again.

"Maybe not," Ri called politely, "but I'd prefer to bathe in private. Thank you for your offer of help, but I'm really alright by myself."

"But My Lady, I –"

"Please, Beitris, it's alright! I promise I won't drown and I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself." The Ladies Maid gave an indignant huff and her footsteps faded down the hall. Ri grinned again. She was not making many friends here, was she? First Darrach and the men, now Beitris . . . She climbed gingerly from the tub, dried herself with a piece of linen folded on the stool Beitris was supposed to be seated on, and pulled on the clothes Hubert the Stable Hand had generously donated. They were a little droopy in some places, and the shirt was definitely not made for breasts, but she had been provided with a fresh set of bandages, most likely for her side which still ached fiercely. She bound her chest, finished dressing, and stepped out into the hall.

"Whoa!" She collided with a hard body. When hands reached up to grip her she leap back, slamming into the door. "Oh-ho, slow down there, Lassie. I mean ye no harm." The man before her was a younger version of Shaw, if Shaw had lighter hair and brown eyes.

"You're . . . the brother," Ri said slowly, trying to scoot around him.

"Iain, My Lady. Iain Logan." He held out his hand. Ri reluctantly extended her own. Iain swept into a bow, planting a gentlemanly kiss on her knuckles. He was charming, she'd give him that, but charming ceased to work on her a long time ago. Now, his attentions only made her uncomfortable. She quickly took her hand back.

"Charmed, I'm sure, but I should really, ah,"

"What's the rush?" Iain stepped forward, placing his hand on the doorway and pinning her against the wall. "I'm sure ye can spare a moment tae tell me a little about yerself."

"Sorry, but I'm –"

"– expected elsewhere," Shaw's voice had a finality to it. Iain immediately took a large step back, dropping his hand. Shaw glared between the two of them.

"Which was what I was just about to tell you," Ri sighed with relief. "By the way, try that little trick with me again," she stepped forward, leaning into Iain. He'd even started to lean in himself, until her knee connected with his groin. "And I promise you, you will have seen your last little tryst, buddy. I will carve your tiny little friend up, and cook it up for your last supper. Get it?"

"Got it," Iain wheezed.

"Good," Ri said brightly, walking away, past a slightly grinning Shaw.