A CHRISTMAS WISH

Chapter 20: Challenge Accepted

Sarah had felt more than a little insulted by his terse command and she had decided to keep her silence just to spite him. But now it looked disturbingly like she had cut off her own nose to spite her face, because keeping quiet didn’t come naturally to her and it was second nature to her damn imbecile of a husband.

Sarah felt like a complete fool.

Last night she had surrendered to him in the most elemental way a woman could surrender to a man. She had fallen asleep in his arms languorous and happy.

Words hadn’t been important then.

He had held her close and that had somehow been enough. She hadn’t really wanted to spoil the occasion with words, but now she wished she had. Because the insensitive brute had shaken her awake this morning like a ragdoll and ordered her to get ready without so much as a “how do you do?”

Sarah wanted to clobber him over the head; he hadn’t even allowed her to bring the small trunk of clothes that Glenda had packed so lovingly for her. The Highlander's, he had informed her arrogantely, travelled light. All she had now were the clothes on her back. And even those she had had to wrestle into this morning, because getting into full medieval gear by herself was a skill she had yet to master.

Sarah had cursed up a storm as the Bliaut had gotten stuck in her hair and the belt wouldn’t fasten properly around her waist. So in the end she had had to settle for an ill-fitting gown that was terribly crumpled and a belt that sort of dangled uselessly at her waist, not to mention hair that looked like a messy lion’s mane. She had tried smoothing it down, but a nightly session of rolling in the hay plus a morning spent negotiating the intricacies of the damn Bliaut equaled a very bad hair day.

Well at least she had found one that was comfortable enough, it was the least embroidered of the stuff Glenda had packed, and surprisingly the gown was ivory colored and made of the softest material. Glenda, bless her, had even sown on the sleeves for her before hand.

And a good thing it was too because Sarah's skill with the needle was akin to Tony Blair's ability to tell the truth, meaning it was pretty much non existant.

The dress was also quite heavy so she had decided it would be warm enough, especially since Benedict had warned her so gravely about the icy, cold weather up in the Highlands. Sarah was also glad she had chosen to don the maroon mantle with the gown, she wasn’t a big fan of the cape type accessory but today she was happy she had it with her.  

She had been to Edinburgh once before, for the August Music Festival but that had been in the twenty first century and she hadn’t really seen Scotland during the winters, though she did remember all those snow storm weather reports on TV.

So she had wisely decided not to take any chances and her caution was warranted for the air had a very definite nip to it now that the glorious day was finally coming to an end. Sarah had no idea what time it was but she was pretty sure it was getting late, because the Sun overhead was descending fast behind the mountains in the distance.

They had been on the road, well not so much road but dirt track for god knows how many hours now.  Sarah could feel the air get chillier with every mile. It was early spring and Sarah had expected it to be warmer, unfortunately though she had been proven wrong yet again.

Sarah fidgeted slightely in her non existent saddle, cursing under her breath, trying unsuccessfully to ease the uncomfortable soreness she felt in places other than just her arse. To think that she had actually been a virgin last night, Sarah still couldn’t get her head round that particular fact. Yet another joke played on her by fate. The crafty bitch was fast becoming her worst enemy.