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“You always have a loaded gun ready.” Caitlin’s gut tightened. She would ask him more, but that would be probing...she didn’t want to get personal.
“Aye, that I do.” He rested the rifle on his shoulder, handling the weapon with ease as if it was an extension of his arm. He reminded her of the gamekeeper on her uncle’s estate. In fact, the gun itself looked familiar. Just like the rifle her uncle used on shoots.
“Is that a Remington?”
He jiggled the rifle while a slight blush came to his cheeks. He remained silent.
“Have you stolen my uncle’s gun?”
He took a long pull of air. “Och. We need arms and your uncle had a gun locker full o’ them. The mob would have used them if I did nae bring them with us.”
“You’ve got more? You mean you stole them all?”
“They’re for your protection, lass.” Exasperation tinged his voice. He then looked her up and down. “‘Bout time you learned how to defend yourself.”
Caitlin raised her eyebrows. “Me? Fighting?” Her indignation over his theft of her uncle’s guns gave way to surprise, which was more at his offer—it showed his trust.
“Aye, well. Not just yet. You need to get fit first. Ye do ken what exercise is?”
“Of course I do! It’s important to your health.”
“Aye but, from the look of you, ye have nae done much of it yourself, like.”
“Humph!”
“Okay then. How many miles do ye run a day?”
“I don’t run.”
Scott tilted his head. “I can see that, lass. Time to start. Get your runners on.”
“They’re already on. They’re the only shoes I brought!”
He slung the rifle over his shoulder by its strap and started jogging out of the garden, flicking his head, indicating she was to follow.
He jogged with a smile and a relaxed gait. Caitlin kept up with him, her breath coming easily. Scott headed to the right of the familiar track which had led them from the hidden vehicle by the Scots pines. Leaving this track, Scott ran past a grey boulder sitting beside a gorse bush.
“Ow.” She brushed against the gorse as she passed.
“Aye, it’s prickly. Be careful.”
Her arm stung, and her thigh muscles started to burn. Scott stopped a little way further to check a piece of green string across a gap between boulders.
“Good. It’s still intact.” He tightened the green string and scanned the area.
Birdsong floated out from a nearby copse of rowan trees, their clumps of red berries reminiscent of Christmas. She followed Scott’s gaze but there was nothing.
“What’s still intact?” Her voice was breathless.
Scott pointed to the green string. “My markers.”
“String? Thought you’d have landmines.” Her sarcasm slipped out.
“Good idea.” He raised eyebrows.
“What!”
He recommenced his jogging without answering. They left the clump of rowan and made their way up an incline onto the nearby moor. Caitlin’s cheeks cooled as the chill wind brushed past her, catching her jacket. As they jogged across a carpet of grass and heather, purple and white patches caught her peripheral vision while her heart beat loudly and the burn in her thigh muscles increased.
“There’s peat over there. We’ll cut some to burn another day.” He turned around and jogged backward, inspecting her. “When you’re a bit fitter.”
“I’m fine.” Her words came between puffs. Her face was hot and her forehead becoming damp.
“Keep up, lass.” He grinned and turned ahead.
Was he slowing down for her? The burn in her thighs was greater and her calves were tight. A sharp knife-like sensation hit in her side.
“Ow!” She gasped and bent forward.
In her vision, Scott’s booted feet arrived in the purple heather in front of her. “Okay. Enough running for today. We’ll finish checking the boundaries though.”
This took most of the morning of that day. It seemed he knew every inch of this place. He was right; it was as familiar to him as the back of his hand. Caitlin’s legs dragged, and her heart sank. Even though she had now seen most of the boundary markers, there was still no familiar way out, except the copse of Scots pines. She was certain now he would never let her out of his sight when away from the cottage.
***
HER THROAT WAS WARM where Scott’s hands covered it, a ring of pain crossing over her windpipe. The rough pressure of his thumbs neatly pressed against her carotid arteries. If she let him continue, she would pass out.
“What did I tell you, Caitlin?” He raised his eyebrows, his mouth so close, his warm breath brushed her face as he spoke.
“Clench my fists.” Her voice sounded strangled. “And force them up between your arms.”
“Go on then.” He nodded.
Thrusting her clenched fists upward with all her strength, she connected with his solid forearms, loosening his hold on her and wrangling her way out of his grasp. She fled.
“Well done. Now come back. I have more ways of killing you.”
“Can we do something else?” She dawdled back to the middle of the patch of green grass near the vegetable garden beds. The seedlings had sprouted, and shafts of green were increasing in size daily. The sun shone dully, and the sky threatened a late summer shower. It had been another long day and her arms were heavy with weariness.
“We could look at weapons.”
Caitlin picked up her pace and was soon back in front of Scott, nodding. “Guns? I know shotguns and rifles. We do clay pigeon shoots as well as duck and pheasant shoots on uncle’s estate. I was sometimes the ghillie, reloading for the guests.” She smiled and nodded.
Scott crossed his arms as he stared down at her, his eyes narrowed slightly.
“Not today.”
You mean, not ever.
Her shoulders slumped. “What then?”
“Anything else.” His mouth held a smirk to one side.
Caitlin curled her lip and shook her head slightly. “Anything else? You are going to have to elaborate. That means explain further.” She crossed her arms.
“It means anything can be a weapon.”
She slouched as she tilted her head to the side. What was he on about?
“Go inside and bring something out. Anything except the obvious, like the kitchen knives.” He flicked his arm out to the backdoor.
Okay. She strolled inside, walked past the knife block and wandered around the living area. Near the fireplace, the musty scent emanating from the box in the corner caught her attention. Yes!
Caitlin sauntered outside, shoulders straight, chin held high and hands behind her back. This will stump Mr Martial Artist.
Walking straight up to him she waited till she was almost toe-to-toe, then she thrust the book into his abdomen. She expected a grunt. None came. The hard-back landed on a solid wall of muscle, as hard as its own cover. Caitlin gulped.
“Oh aye. Giving me a difficult one, you think. I told you anything can be a weapon.” He held the book lightly in his hand and flipped it. “Keep still while I demonstrate.”
He stepped even closer, slowly pushing the book, edge first, into her face. It landed at her nose and he pressed it there. “One hard thrust and the bones of your nose will be in your brain.”
“Oh wow.” Caitlin’s eyes were wide and her imagination in overdrive as she envisioned septal fragments entering the frontal lobe and severing vital blood vessels.
As self-defence training finished for the day, an internal struggle began within Caitlin. Could she fight this man, once she knew a thing or two? No way, he’d overpower her in a second. She got the impression as he was training her, that he was awesome as a fighter. Her admiration for his skills surprised her. He was truly capable of defending himself and this place if he had to. And, if she could believe him, he’d defend her.
***
THWACK. THWACK. Through the rain, the throwing knives hit the old wooden crate repeatedly. A sense of achievement pervaded Caitlin’s mood. She had mastered it. Well almost. The knives just did what she wanted. She had the knack. Despite the cold wet trickling down her neck from the rain, warmth arose within her, at this skill successfully learned, but there also had been a niggle of discomfort developing.
“I feel a little guilty enjoying learning how to be violent.” She turned to Scott, her smile awkward. He stood beside her, hair wet and curls standing prominently. His expression was softer than usual.
“Well, lass ye are quite good at it. You may well need it one day, so don’t feel guilty, aye?”
His voice was gruff, always with his gravelly Highland burr, but his manner kind. She imagined his expression if one of those knives went into his chest. Pain momentarily stabbed her own chest. She would never do that to him. If she ran, she would just go, and try not to hurt him in the process.
***
AFTER SEVERAL DAYS of weapon training, Scott turned his attention to teaching Caitlin hunting skills. They left the cottage for the day to hunt for squirrel and rabbit. It rained on and off, but Caitlin wasn’t cold as the sun still shone between showers, making the rain look like drops of milk through the sunshine. There must have been a rainbow nearby. Scott squatted down on a rabbit trail as he set a loose wire snare. His hair was wet and small drops of water collected on the ends of the strands of dark blond now overhanging his face.
“So, the poor wee rabbit hops along, all happy like, and then suddenly, his head’s in a wire noose which is getting tighter and tighter the more he struggles?” Caitlin put her hands around her throat.
“Aye, lass. It is a trap for food, after all.” He looked up at her, his stubbled chin glowed ginger as it caught the afternoon sunlight.
“How do you know all this survival stuff? Where did you learn it, Scott?”
“Learning how to survive is how I learned it.” He replied through tight lips.
“What about stalking deer?” she asked, changing the subject.
“There’s two of us, aye? Do you think we’ll be able to eat all the meat of a deer between us before it goes off? We won’t hunt deer until I’ve got something sorted to preserve the meat.”
As they returned from hunting, Scott made Caitlin stay back while he went ahead and checked their cottage had not been chanced upon. She was on her own now and escape was possible. But her legs stuck to the path, immobile. She wet her lips as she peered ahead toward the cottage. Smoke rose out of the chimney from the Agar, its warmth proving the bread dough she had left beside it. She flicked her hair behind her ear as she reflected on her achievement, she’d mastered bread making easily. The wind moved the tops of the trees which edged the cottage garden where the vegetable seeds she had sown were growing. Now the permanency of this vegetable patch was comforting. Her pulse rate increased as her legs remained immobile, her window of opportunity for escape closing rapidly.
Scott returned and reported the cottage was undisturbed, so they began their walk home. Behind Scott, Caitlin stared ahead at his broad shoulders. Did his solidity have anything to do with her feelings of security? But it was still unfair! She huffed behind him as she walked along, again pushing down the resentments which had sat at the edges of her thoughts while she had tried to make sense of it all, and how she now found herself with this perfect stranger who treated her like he knew her.
“I just wanted to establish my career!” It burst out and now it had started, there was no way of stopping it. “I wanted to be normal, like anybody does!” She stomped on. “But instead I’m stuck here...” She almost said, ‘with you!’ but bit it back. “The world’s going mad out there and according to you...and the news...it will never be the same again.” Her splurge of rage released some of the frustration. Her heart rocked against her ribs. She’d expressed her feelings to him!
He turned, the broken open shotgun over one arm and two dead rabbits dangling from the other. His blue stare held an understanding she had not encountered before.
“Everyone’s life got disrupted, Caitlin. You’re not the only one whose future was not only put ‘on hold’ but changed forever. Many a child, who was lucky enough to grow up, never got the education nor the proper nourishment he would have if the world had nae changed as it did. Sorry, but on that score lass, ye are nae special.”
“Just suck it up then?”
“Aye,” he said simply.
He made it sound like she was the Code Grey, the aggressive distressed patient, needing placating. Why did she blurt all that out? Now he knew how frustrated and vulnerable she was.
She followed as he turned and kept walking. There had been no judgment from him, only understanding. That made it even more difficult.
Once back at the cottage he hung the rabbits. A news report was on the radio. They were now sporadic. This report revealed that the violence and looting which had begun in the cities was spreading. Not only had looting occurred in all the major shopping centres, but attacks on other homes of the wealthy had occurred as it had to her aunt and uncle’s stately home. Some families within her aunt and uncle’s social group had suffered injury and loss of life. None of the other news reports had mentioned the attack on her Uncle Kieran’s estate specifically. Each news report on the radio had confirmed Scott’s version of events. The world out there was now a very different and dangerous place.
“I hope Uncle Kieran and Aunt May are all right.”
“They survive Caitlin.” His strained voice came from the pantry as he locked the shotgun away in the gun locker. “How many times do I have to tell you?”
What did he know? How much was he not telling her? A sudden pang of longing to see her aunt and uncle filled her, reminding her again that her sole human company was this man who had removed her from them, claiming he would protect her.