A Scotsman's Promise

Chapter 10

Micara jolted awake, her mother's scream echoing in her mind, a hollow remnant of her nightmare. She drew a shaky breath and swallowed as she waited for her heart rate to steady. It was still night time, the darkness inside the tent fended off only by the orange glow of the roaring fire outside the tent's entrance.

Cara sat up, pushing the terrifying dream from her mind. A branch snapped outside, startling her. The silhouette of one of the men showed on the canvas wall.

"Micara?" Calen's voice breached the slience tentatively. "Are ye alright?"

Micara took a deep breath before answering, slipping accidentally into French, "Oui Monsieur, je vais bien, vous remercie."

"Uh..." Calen responded confusedly.

Realising her mistake, she moved to the entrance and pulled the flap back halfway. "I am well, Monsieur Donelly, it was nothing except a bad dream."

She couldn't see his face clearly due to the firelight coming from behind him, but she thought that it showed some real concern. "Is something wrong?" she asked.

He hesitated before answering, giving Micara a tinge of fear in her chest.

"All is well for now, both William and meself are watching. No harm will come to ye as long as ye stay in camp."

His assurances did not put her fears to rest. She imagined the numerous causes of danger that could be lurking in the dark forest. She felt her chest tighten at the idea of so many gruesome possibilities.

"What is it? What is out there?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

He was quiet for so long that Micara wasn't sure he was going to answer. "Tis a cougar."

Micara shivered. She had heard of full grown men being killed by such animals.

"Have no fear, Highness," Calen reassured her, his voice recovering a small portion of teasing, "ye will be safe."

He turned to go and Cara dropped the tent flap back into place. She crawled back to her bedroll once again, and lay back down. The darkened end of the tent now looked ominous. She held perfectly still and strained her ears to hear past her pounding heart beat. Her imagination began to fill the air with the sounds of a stalking creature: a rustle to the right, a heavy paw against the ground, a twig snapping.

Micara sat straight up. She forced herself to breathe, trying to fill the strange hollowness in her chest. She scooted towards the exit. She crawled through the entrance as fast as she could go, pushing the flaps aside with her body as she exited.

When both Will and Calen looked towards her, she realised how foolish she looked and hastily got to her feet. Will came quickly to her side and offered his arm. Micara took it gratefully.

Will led her to the fire and Micara reluctantly let go of his arm when they reached the circle of radiated warmth. Will went back to his previous seat. Micara remained standing, her hands outstretched to the fire's warmth. She scanned the darkness, not entirely sure of what she was searching for. There was no sign of a creature anywhere.

For some minutes the only sound was the fire as it popped and hissed reassuringly. Will yawned loudly, breaking the silence.

"Sleep a while," Calen told him, "I can manage on me own for now."

Will nodded, yawning once more before bunking down in his bedroll beside the fire.

Within minutes, Micara heard  soft snores coming from him.

Calen cleared his throat and Micara looked at him. "Would ye like to sit?" he asked, gesturing to the empty place beside him on his own bedroll.

Micara hesitated, slightly taken aback that the Scotsman had even bothered to consider her comfort. She knew she shouldn't accept, such a move violated almost every rule of etiquette she had ever been taught. Yet despite this, she felt compelled to do just that.

Before she could give her assent, Calen spoke again, misreading her hesitance, "I see her Ladyship is afraid of mingling with those she deems beneath her."

Micara could tell his words were not entirely serious, but his eyes dared her to prove him wrong.

She raised one eyebrow slightly, accepting not only his offer, but the challenge along with it. "Thank you Mr. Donelly, I believe I will take you up on that."

She went to him, enjoying the hint of surprise on his face as she did so. He moved his flintlock to lie on the other side of him and scooted closer to the edge to give her more room.

There was no proper way to seat one's self on the ground, but Micara willed herself to descend into a sitting position as gracefully as possible, keeping her limbs completely covered by her skirt and maintaining and adequate distance from Calen. As she sat beside him in the firelight's glow, she kept her posture prim and stiff, taking care to keep a definite space between them. Calen on the other hand, seemed completely relaxed, as if unaware of the societal rules they were breaking.

In the awkward silence, Micara couldn't help but replay the regretful behaviour she had shown Calen. She had treated him abysmally. And though he had done much to provoke her, he had not been cruel. Not like she had.

She felt a nagging guilt weighing on her insides. It was not a familiar feeling, and no doubt would not be as insistent, if even present at all had he not committed the ultimate act of heroism in not only saving her life, but also comforting her after the ordeal.

Micara cleared her throat softly, gaining Calen's attention. "Monsieur Donelly," she ventured, unsure of how to proceed, "I would like to ask your forgiveness for my remark earlier today. It was uncalled for and I hope you will accept my apology."

Calen studied her mearsuredly. Cara resisted the urge to squirm under his scrutiny.

After some moments, he finally spoke, "All is well your Highness, I do accept."

Cara looked at him. His face was serious, holding no resentment, mockery, or teasing, for almost the first time since they had met. He held her gaze for a moment before looking away, out into the wilderness, past the firelight.

Micara studied his features. This was the closest she had been to him without being distracted by either fear or fury. He looked different now, serious and thoughtful rather than mocking and annoyed. He was Handsome.

The thought caught her off guard. She had not given much consideration to his looks before now, many things taking precedence in her mind. She had noticed his stature and general appearance, yes, but nothing beyond that. It was strange to view this rough backwoodsman as attractive. His tanned skin and dark features were the opposite of what was regarded as fashionable in the city. Yet despite this, he was indeed handsome.

A metallic click brought back her attention. Calen had lifted his musket and had it aimed at something across from them in the trees.

"What is it?" Cara whispered fearfully, "The cougar?"

Calen's eyes remained trained on his target as he answered, "Aye, tis."

Micara looked to where Calen's gun was pointed. It took a moment to find, but finally she saw it too, low to the ground, the fire's light reflected by a pair of haunting yellow eyes.