The Highlander's Touch

THT | 2

Again.

"Och, yer having a time of it, aren't ye'?" A shadow came over her and she looked up, near tears. So much for her plan to be a lad. The leader finally ended her humiliation. With a quick move, he grabbed her by the back of her shirt and threw her onto the saddle. The mare moved uneasily as she tried to right herself. She rubbed her throat inconspicuously, grateful that he’d helped her, yet wincing at the way he’d done it. "Have ye' not ridden a horse before?"

Saeran didn't know a single boy her age who hadn’t, so not a single excuse came to her mind. She gave him a shaky smile.

"I...ah, I have ailments. In my leg. It breaks—often. Makes a hassle out of...of mounting." Worst excuse ever, Saeran. Well done.

The look on his face told her he didn't believe a single word she said.

Saeran had never been a good liar. Fortunately, she pushed it aside and they began to ride. Ah, gods, this was uncomfortable. Not even two steps in and her bum was starting to ache. How did these men do it? She cast them all a covert look. And without trews, no less! Their bare legs were rubbing against the flanks of the horses. She could only imagine the itching.

"I'm the laird's first man, Brodrick. The king sent for him so we came to retrieve ye'." The leader of the group broke her out of her miserable thoughts.

"Saeran," she supplied shortly. The less she spoke, the better. There were nineteen men around her. One of them would catch onto the odd pitch in her voice, or the way she was awkwardly sitting on the saddle, or the way she was trying to rub her arms against the sides of her breasts to keep the binding in place.

Brodrick throwing her had loosened it, and she had a feeling these men weren't going to stop for anything. There was no way she would be able to fix the binding.

"I could have sworn the king said there were two sisters, no’ a brother and a sister," he said. She called it what it was—an attempt at conversation. He was trying to wheedle things out of her.

"Aye," she said, at a loss for words.

"Ye' donna talk much, do ye'?" Brodrick grumbled. She shook her head, mentally sighing when the cap began to slip. Both her binding and the cap were working against her. Was this Fate's way of telling her that this was a rotten idea?

If it was, she was terribly late. These men all thought she was a lad, and it would have to stay that way until Blaine secured her place as Lady Shaw. Hopefully then, their cousin King James would be content to let her stay there. She could avoid being sent away for marriage completely.

Brodrick whistled sharply and she surged forward. Grasping wildly for the reigns of the horse, she tried to pull the beast to a stop, but it would not be deterred. The others began galloping as well.

"What's happening?" she shouted over the thundering hooves.

Brodrick chuckled, but the sound of it was lost in the fray. All she had was the twinkling in his eyes to go by. "Returning to laird Shaw’s estate, lad. Stay with us now—your sister is a ways ahead o' us."

If she thought her bum was numb before, there was nothing to describe the way it felt as she was forced to bump and flail on the beast. She knew several of the men were laughing at her. She didn’t have time to focus on them. Not only was she struggling to keep her cap atop her head, but her breasts were rebelling against the binding. It was slipping at a dangerously fast rate.

Thankfully, they caught up to her sister quickly. She was chattering away to the man as if he weren't a murderous highlander. Her sister looked at them fleetingly as they arrived.  Saeran bit her lip at the tinge of disappointment in her sister's eyes. It was almost like Blaine didn’t want to see her.