Highland Strength (Book 3)

Chapter 32

Chapter 32

She watched patiently as Scott first lined up all the small sticks in a straight line, all descending from largest nearest to her and the smallest furthest away. Between each stick was a line of small rocks and stones, each one lined up perfectly with the last. The symmetry and perfection of it was bewildering, and yet the lad went about it with a single minded focus. Whenever once rolled out of position he would fluster and shuffle it back into position before he carried on once more. Her hand kept on stroking his hair, and before long she had it under some semblance of control. Though the wild locks still stubbornly tried to resist perfection.

He muttered under his breath, a recitation of one line over and over, as if he needed the rhythm of it to stay calm, and in the end it soothed her too. Soothed her too much it seemed, for she lost track of her surroundings, where she was, and what that meant. It was the jolt of pain that brought it all back once more. A large hand gripping her hair tightly within its fist, yanking her upwards, so her hands came up to clasp the thick wrist that hand belonged too. At the same time, a foot came out and connected with Scott, sending him and his sticks and rocks flying. Yet, after the initial cry of pain, it was a keen of something else which left the lad, as he scrambled about trying to rectify the pattern he had created. “Stupid Bastard, get away with you now.” Douglas’ foot came swinging once more, and with a feral hiss the lad before he scampered off, leaving Sheena practically growling and vibrating with anger.

“Is that how you entertain yourself here, Douglas? Hurting poor defenceless bairns?” The disgust was clear in her voice, and was obviously heard as one hand came swiftly around her and a large hand landed solidly upon a breast, squeezing and shaping the flesh. The other still in her hair pulled her head back so as to look up at him with her back to his chest. “Aye, the bastard is mine, I do with him as I wish.”

“Oh so you do claim he is yours?”

“How can I not? But I do not want him. Never have. He was already walking by the time his whore mother thrust him at me. Took care of himself by eating the scraps, I will give him nothing. He gets in my way, I make sure he remembers what happens. Not that he is likely to forget with the memory the devil himself must have given him.” Douglas snorted, and an angry furrow appeared in his brow. “No the lad forgets nothing and cannot lie worth a damn. He has made many a conversation I have had worse due to him pointing out my problem with the truth. So I make sure he remembers what happens when that happens too.”

“You sicken me.” She almost spat at the ground, but that would be giving him too much. “He is a bairn, your bairn and you treat him worse than a dog.”

“Aye, and what do you wish to do about it? Would you like a pet? You can have him if you want, if it will keep you quiet and occupied.” It went unsaid, if she stayed away from Aonghus and Boyd. Her gaze flicked to the lonely tent in the corner of the camp, where she knew Aonghus must be, still in pain from his earlier beating and knowing that in all probability there had been no food and another beating since she had left. At this moment she had no idea what to do, but knew the only way to keep them alive was to keep Douglas believing he owned her as he wished too. “You would give me your son as if he were a mutt that was a nuisance to you?” The very idea sickened her and yet if it was the only way to keep the lad safe, could she turn it down. Even now the lad sat cowering by a large boulder a few feet away from them, peeking up at her every so often, only looking at her but never directly in that way he had. Knowing instinctively he would have run further at any other time, yet now, he stayed, as if to make sure she was fine. The lad had no one and she was sure the first kindness he had known was from her. Making her heart break as she acknowledged that fact.