the sheathed sword back on her shoulder, they continued walking.
Why he wanted to save her neck, he did not know. ‘Your name’s Gaira?’ he asked instead.
She stiffened. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘I thought Gaira meant—’
‘Short,’ she interrupted. The tension in her shoulders eased. ‘It does. I think my ma had hopes I wouldn’t end up like my brothers.’
She had brothers. Were they the ones killed here or were they camped nearby? He had no intention of being strung up by some Scotsmen.
‘Is the boy safe where he is?’ he asked.
‘Aye, we have seen nae one for almost a week and the camp is somewhat hidden by the forest. He’ll stay there till I return. He has been too frightened to disobey.’ She stopped, shrugged her shoulders. ‘Or maybe too busy eating honeycomb. Do you have a camp?’
‘No, I just arrived.’
‘Will there be other Englishmen?’
‘Shouldn’t you have asked that question before you kidnapped me and walked me to your camp?’
She laughed, but it was the sound of panic and she quickly silenced it.
Not for the first time, he wondered at his acquiescence, but for the first time, he was apprehensive.
She had not revealed if there were others, but he was fairly sure there were not. It had been only her footsteps in the dirt. Still, he could not be certain.
He knew he could protect himself from one Scotswoman, albeit one mercurial in nature. But he could not control the consequences if there were others. He would not shed any more blood here. She might have tied him up and taken his sword, but he still knew how to fight. If there were more, he needed to leave. ‘Give pardon, but I fear—’
‘Ach, I won’t have you afeared. You’ll stay where I stay. And I’ll not be biting you. You’re too hairy for that.’
He blinked, not understanding the direction of her thoughts, until he remembered his overgrown beard and long hair. Hairy. Something rumbled inside him. Laughter. She had almost made him laugh.
Gaira kept glancing over her shoulder at the stranger who quietly followed her. No, not quiet. Contemplative. Dark. He was dark like the bottom of a turbulent river. This man, though seemingly tranquil, was as forceful and powerful under his surface as any Scottish river. It made her nervous that he hid it.
He hadn’t said a word since he’d retrieved his horse. Now he walked behind her with the huge horse in tow. She had his dagger and sword, but the horse was laden with a larger sword, blankets and two pouches, one she was sure jangled with coins. He was quiet, but she could almost feel his thoughts. She tried to stop biting her lip.
She had invited a stranger to the camp. An English soldier, who talked of peace but walked with his sword drawn and carried more weapons on his horse. But she had to invite him. What else could she do?
If he truly meant her harm, all he had to do was follow her to camp and catch her unawares. It was best to keep him tied and close. But close did not mean stupid and she had some talking to do first.
She whirled around to face him. He stopped just as suddenly and looked at her expectantly.
* * *
Robert watched the woman staring at him. In less than an hour she had displayed several emotions: bravery, fear, gentleness, affection and humour. Now a myriad of expressions were crossing her face, the dominant one being determination. She clearly wanted to tell him something, but didn’t know how to say it. He felt the heady rush of anticipation. It had been a long time since anyone had intrigued him.
But then he saw them.
Behind her was a crude camp. A fire blazed around a steaming cauldron. The fire was strong and the moon was full. Both provided enough illumination. The night’s light was not playing tricks with his sight.
‘Who are they?’ he asked.
Her eyes, so expressive before, became shuttered. Her only movement was the almost imperceptible tensing of her shoulders, the slight raising of her chin. ‘You’ll not be harming them, you ken?’ She kept her voice low. ‘If you do, I’ll be taking away more than one sword of yours.’
‘Who are they?’ he repeated.
She did not answer him, but kept her eyes unwaveringly on him.
As if pulled forward, he walked past Gaira to face four children who emerged out of the trees. They lined up like soldiers for battle. Gaira hurriedly passed him and stood behind the tallest girl.
The image hit him. These children were not lined up like soldiers for battle, but for inspection. His inspection. Gaira did not stand between them to protect them, but behind them as if to point out their merit.
He couldn’t speak.
She brought the children close to her, whispered low, but she did not take her eyes off him.
‘Children, this is Robert from Dent and he is English.’ She stood and raised her voice. ‘I do not believe he means us harm so I asked him to our camp this eve.’
He could sense their wariness turn to fear, but they did not make a sound, nor did they break ranks. Ridiculous as it was, he could not get soldiering terminology out of his mind.
Pressing her hands on the girl’s shoulders and briefly pointing to the boy of equal height to her left, she said, ‘These are Flora and Creighton, they’re nine and, well, twins.’
Flora and Creighton shared the same dark brown hair and, although he could not be certain, their eyes appeared bright blue.
But where their colouring and height were the same, the way they acted towards him was not. Flora’s nose was jammed into her chest, her lips trembling.
Creighton’s eyes were a flat stare and he held his hands fisted at his sides.
Gaira took a quick sidestep and waved her hand briefly over the head of a boy whose hair looked as if it were trying to escape. ‘You met Alec.’ She roughed the boy’s brown hair and it barely moved. Alec smiled, obviously pleased to be introduced.
‘The little one there is Maisie.’ Gaira pointed to the girl hanging on Alec’s left arm. ‘She’s not two, but learning words.’
Maisie’s hair was so blond it was practically transparent in the firelight, but her eyes were round, green and took up half her face. He could not discern much more of her features because it looked as though she were trying to swallow her free hand and arm whole. Spit glistened.
He forced the words from his mouth. ‘Are these yours?’
‘Aye.’ She jutted out her chin.
None of the children resembled each other and
