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BY THE THIRD DAY, THEY were beyond the land of the Kennedys, the hills of the Haldane, the valleys of the MacPhearson, and were into the lowlands of the Swinton. But the Swinton were not a peaceful people. They wore dark blue kilts and shirts, were unclean and had blue war paint on their faces.
Mounted on horses and waiting in a straight line, they blocked the lower half of a meadow and glared at the intruding MacGreagors. Their swords were drawn, their eyes were fierce and they each carried a round shield. The shields had unique markings so others of their clan could recognize each man even when his shield covered his face.
The MacGreagors did not prefer shields and right away, the Swinton clan assumed an easy victory was theirs.
Unafraid, Neil let his men walk their horses closer and then raised his hand to stop them. “I count thirty-two,” whispered Luag, the man Neil chose to be his second in command on this adventure. They were slightly outnumbered. Even so, Neil rode out alone to speak to the man in the middle. If the opposing man was impressed, he didn’t let on. “I am Laird Neil MacGreagor. We require safe passage through your land to England.”
The man scoffed. He was an older man with graying hair, leathery skin and one hand that shook uncontrollably. “I am Laird Swinton and we require the payment of two lasses for safe passage through our land.”
“We do not barter lasses.”
Laird Swinton spit on the ground. “Pity, we will have to fight you then.”
Neil slowly smiled, “Perhaps you would care to place a wager. Any of my lads against your strongest.”
Swinton did not quite know what to make of Neil. He suspected a swindle somewhere but couldn’t make out exactly where. “You will allow me to choose both lads?”
“If it pleases you.”
“What will you wager?”
“If my lad wins, you will grant us safe passage,” said Neil.
“And if my lad wins?”
“He will not win.”
At last, a slow smile crossed Laird Swinton’s face. “If my lad wins, you will give up your lasses.”
Neil only shrugged. Then he swung his arm out to indicate Swinton should examine his men and make his choice.
Fearless, the elder Swinton walked his horse back and forth among all the MacGreagors, giving each man a good look. None of them showed any sign of weakness. However, when he came to Greer, he halted his horse and smiled. “She is a pretty one. I will have her when you lose.”
Right behind him, Neil ignored his comment.
Both women kept their heads bent and their eyes down, and when he moved his horse closer to Kadick, he was charmed by the way she had her head covered with part of it held over her lower face. “Is this one too lovely to show herself? Perhaps I will prefer her instead.”
Donnahail’s muscles stiffened and Neil noticed. He quickly shot his man a warning look but he was too late. Swinton noticed too and his grin grew wider. “A husband? That is even better. I like a woman with a little practice.”
It was all Donnahail could do to keep from drawing his sword. Instead, he glared at his enemy hoping to be chosen to fight. Once he quickly did away with the other fighter, he would cut off the head of their laird.
Swinton had already turned his attention back to Kadick. “Come now, let me see your beauty so I may anticipate my victory even more.”
Kadick did not glance at Neil. Never before had she needed a man’s permission to do as she pleased and she did not need it now. Instead, she turned smiling eyes on Laird Swinton and began to taunt him by pushing her hood back just an inch at a time on the unmarked side of her face.
She was indeed pleasing, he thought, and his lust increased with each of her movements.
Then abruptly, she shoved the hood off, turned her marked side toward him and watched the horror grow in his expression.
“Cursed! They are the cursed of the world!” Laird Swinton nearly backed his horse into Neil’s trying to get away, but Neil did not move fast enough so Swinton charged his horse forward instead.
Donnahail pulled his dagger and desperately wanted to hurt the man, but he was worried Swinton would lash out at Kadick. Instead of getting out of the way, he wedged his horse between the two, forcing Swinton’s horse aside and Kadick’s horse to move over.
Neil watched the frightened Swinton race away.
Then Donnahail grabbed Kadick’s arm to keep her from falling off her agitated horse. He quickly put his dagger away and as soon as he was sure she was holding on tight, he let go of her arm, grabbed her reins and pulled her horse’s head down to calm him. Then just before Kadick put her hood back on, Donnahail noticed a tear roll down her cheek.
By the time he looked up, the Swintons were out of sight and Neil was back in position waiting for Donnahail to let him know it was safe to move on. He nodded to his laird and stayed beside her as they renewed their ride across the meadow.
At length he let his horse drift back into position and when one of the other men looked at him, Donnahail wet his first finger and made a tear mark from his eye down his cheek. The other man nodded and passed the word...Kadick was crying.
The MacGreagors were moving in the direction of England and there was plenty to point out and talk about, but no one said a word. Until now, none of them truly realized how dreadful life had been for the little lass with the mark. She was a woman now of course, but she was still a little lass in Neil’s eyes—a very hurt and nearly forgotten child.
He wanted to make it up to her somehow, but how? Then he realized he had another problem. It was one thing to imagine finding a husband for a normal woman, but what kind of laird would expose Kadick to the shunning of both the Scots and the English? He could not do that to her.
What he needed was a reason not to take her into England with him. Yet even that might seem cruel. As hard as he tried, he could not think of a good enough excuse. Then word came to him that Kadick was crying which made him feel even worse.
When they finally stopped for the night in a clearing big enough to house them, the men were still subdued. Trying to make her feel better, two of them were there to help Kadick off her horse, others quickly made her bed, another offered to take her for a walk and when yet another man asked if she desired anything, Kadick put her foot down and yelled at them, “Saints be praised, stop hovering!”
Realizing what she had done, she covered her face with her hands, took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “I am sorry. I am quite well, honest. I am also quite used to the way the world sees me.”
“Aye, but you had a tear in your eye. I saw it.” Donnahail muttered.
“I had a tear in my eye because my backside hurts like I imagine the fires of hell hurt. You might have found me a softer horse, Donnahail MacGreagor.” She playfully swatted his arm and turned to smile at Neil. “Now if you will allow it, I desire some privacy.”
Neil nodded and watched her walk toward the small pond his scout managed to locate before they stopped for the night. He didn’t believe her and doubted any of the others did either, but she had the good grace to put them at ease. He suspected she had been doing that all her life too.
When she came back, her hood was down, her face was washed and she walked with dignity and pride. Neil held out his hand, helped her sit down on the bed the men made for her and then knelt down between her and Greer. “Now I will hear the truth.”
Kadick’s shoulders slumped, her demeanor quickly changed and she hung her head. “I should be accustomed to it by now, but I never am. At least this time it served a purpose.”
“Aye, it saved a Swinton’s life.”
She smiled at the implication that a MacGreagor couldn’t lose. “That it did.”
“However, I am concerned about taking you into England. ‘Tis bad enough for a Scotsman to react that way, but I will kill the first Englishman who does and that would start a war.”
“I see.” Her heart sank, not so much because she believed she would find acceptance in England, but because she was learning to love being with all the men and sharing their adventure.
Quiet until now, Greer finally spoke up, “There is one way we could take her with us.”
“How?”
“Well, the Swintons wear blue paint. We could cover her mark and wear the same mark as hers ourselves.”
Neil was delighted. “‘Tis a wonderful idea.”
Luag shook his head. “The English will see it as a mark of battle.”
“But I really only want to go to a festival. I have never been to one,” Kadick said.
One of the men put more wood on the fire and then turned to face his laird. “It would not have to be the same mark as hers. I could paint a flower on each of Greer’s cheeks and perhaps a bear or a horse on some of the lads’ faces. So long as the markings are the same color, who will care?”
Neil was more than pleased. “Done then. All we need to do is find paint.” He kissed the top of Kadick’s head, got up and went to his own bed. “Sleep well, tomorrow we see England.”
