Highland Portrait (9 page)

The ponies went noisily away but the Wet Man did not move.  Taking her cue from him, knowing that he was much better suited to the game of continued existence, she did not move, holding her breath until she heard him exhale. 

“Lass?” he whispered.

“Yes.  I’m good. Thank you so much.” 

He turned at that moment and looked into the most astonishing eyes he had ever seen. His sharp intake of breath startled her and he saw in her eyes a moment of uncertainly and fear.  Never had he seen such golden eyes and he was stunned at their brilliance. Her eyes were curious and intelligent and he was glad that she did not turn away from his gaze as most maidens would. Down cast eyes may have been modest and seemly, but they did little for intrigue. He reached out to gently hold onto her arms, keeping her head above water.

Stella was ill at ease looking at this man, his heavy beard and wet hair plastered to his head, the overhanging boughs casting them in shadow so that little could be detected of his face.  She did not feel frightened, only uncomfortable, thinking him no common farmer, but a soldier in his own right, a man of strength and virility.

“Are you going to hurt me?” she was frank with her fears, feeling it was better to know ahead of time that she was about to meet death then have it sprung on her. 

“Nay, lass, ye need have no fear o’ me.  I will protect ye w’ me life,”  he spoke softly and with sincerity giving Stella hope that she might be able to trust him because she was in a position that she needed to trust somebody and his strength could be to her benefit.

“Where are ye from, lass?  Ye speak in a strange manner.”

“Texas.  I’m from Texas,” she answered and wondered if he had ever even heard of the United States, except in the 1600’s there was no United States.  ‘It’s in the New World.  You know – across the ocean.”  She smiled a tentative smile trying to reason how she would explain herself to this man – or anyone else for that matter.  She needed to proceed with caution.

“Yer nay a Faerie Queen?” he asked, smiling.

Stella’s eyes widened and she smiled. “Faerie Queen?  Mercy no.  I’m from Texas.”

“Tegis?  How did ye come by this vale?  The New World ‘tis a long way from here.”  He tentatively reached out to touch her beautiful face. Lips that plump were rare and so highly kissable, he salivated looking at them. Although he had been schooled in the gentlemanly attributes and knew that the boundaries of modest and proper behavior were strictly enforced in most situations, he felt his resistance completely crumbling at her feet. He could not hold back another moment, he had to know that she was real, that her skin, so rich and velvety, was not just a figment of his imagination.  She moved her head slightly back, trying to avoid his touch and he quickly pulled back his hand.  He did not want to frighten her.

“Uh.  I’m not really sure.  I think I was kidnapped.”  Robbie’s face brightened at her answer. Kidnapping was something that Robbie understood since kidnapping women was a common occurrence in his country and one that he had even participated in when his cousin Ewan decided to take a reluctant MacGower bride for himself.  He understood why this beautiful lass would be kidnapped and he was glad that she had somehow escaped and he was now in possession of her.  He was not going to let her go, like her bungling kidnappers, but would take her to be his own bride.  His grip on her arm tightened slightly which alarmed her and she felt it was time to move along.

“Um.  Do you think it’s safe to get out of the water now?” she smiled and fluttered her eyelashes, hoping to manipulate him into doing her bidding, hoping that he had some gentlemanly attributes, although he looked more like a barbarian than a courtier. He seemed like a big gentle barbarian, but she did not want to press her luck.  Once he started asking more questions and she had no answers he was bound to set a fire under her feet.

“Oh. Aye, lass.”  He put his knife between his teeth, turned around and reached both arms down and back, grabbed her legs and wrapped them around his waist.  She put her arms around his neck and let him carry her carefully and quietly out from behind the foliage of the secluded pool.  He felt her full wet breasts pressed against his back and he paused for just a moment, relishing the feel of them. As he moved closer to the edge of the stream he thought his nakedness and his arousal were going to be an awkward problem. 

When the water was just to his waist Stella thought that it might be a good time to walk by herself.  “Please, sir, I can do the rest on my own.  Please.”  She whispered close to his ear, teasing Robbie with a voice so soft and sultry. Although he didn’t believe in the sith the evidence was clear that everything about her was not of his world. She may have denied being of the faerie folk, but he wasn’t so certain. Mayhap the faeries in Tegis were just bigger.

Robbie, realizing that she might feel shy about his state of undress and his visceral reaction to her charms, gently lowered her and she sprinted off through the stream to where she had stashed her boots.  He continued to the edge of the stream, keeping his back to her so as not to offend her feminine sensibilities.

Stella’s dilemma was now twofold.  Soldiers were in pursuit of her, this giant was aware of her plight, probably understood that she had stolen a horse, and she still needed help in getting to the Stones.  The Wet Man might be a good candidate, but she had seen that look before and wasn’t interested in fighting him off.  She was not going to be raped, if she could help it, nor was she even remotely interested in a casual dalliance.  This man was as far as she could see, a barbarian with little to recommend him and that put the kibosh on any hanky panky.

Stella took a peek at him as he stepped onto the grassy edge of the stream and her eyes widened.  Not a bad specimen at all.  He was solidly built, muscular and not an ounce of fat on him anywhere.  She had never been one to gush over naked men, but this guy had a really nice ass. In fact, from the back everything about him could have rivaled Shawn Craig, her now maimed and broken model.  She could see that if anybody could protect her and get her to the Stones it would probably be him.  Maybe if she paid him he would agree to it, but how would she pay him?  With a check?  She thought of what she had of value that he might want but all she had was the horse, and that was stolen, which could be a problem because if he was a man of any integrity his principles might not include fencing stolen goods.  But there was certainly no harm in asking.

Robbie’s entire body was tingling with anticipation.  He carefully kept his back to his Faerie Queen so she would not be alarmed at his obvious desire for her.  She’d already been kidnapped, escaped, stolen a horse, been pursued by the English and then he had plucked her underwater like a salmon.  She didn’t need to be frightened by his lust. 

Robbie had long ago discovered that the best way to divert his lust was to redirect his mind from the carnal to the intellectual. He started solving mathematical equations to take his mind off her nice round bottom and long legs. 

“
The square of the length of the hypotenuse,
c
, equals the sum of the squares of the lengths of the other two sides. Thus,
a^2 + b^2 = c^2.”  Robbie muttered the
Pythagorean Theorem perhaps eight times to temper his hunger for the woman, hoping that Greek numbers would numb him.  It worked marginally at best, so he searched his mind to find a formula that he didn’t know as well so his mind could be single to the figuring of it.   He dressed quickly in a clean dry linen tunic, the heat being oppressive enough that his plaid was not warranted.  The belted tunic fell to his knees and was open at the chest with long loose sleeves.  He slipped on his wet trews and tied back his wet hair. 

He rearmed himself with his broadsword and several dirks, making of his body an arsenal.  He was a Highlander and was never without his weapons, as if they were limbs or members of his body. He was a warrior, whether traveling, attending to his duties as the tanist or even in church, always fully armed.

Stella, slipped on her socks and boots, strapped her knapsack into place and pushed her hat onto her wet head.  She was much cooler now, although somewhat shaken from her close call, but she at least had transportation and possibly a guide to get her to Kilmartin.  She glimpsed again at Wet Man and noted that he was dressed and ready.  She looked at him and smiled – she felt like she was at the Renaissance Faire – except this was no faire and getting home was turning into a big problem.  He was adjusting his baldric and slowly turned toward her.  He smiled and with an immediate rush of recognition Stella knew who he was.  Her mouth dropped open and she glared at him.

“You!  You bastard!  How dare you bring me here and leave me all alone!”  She turned swiftly around where she stood and found a stout limb.  She rushed toward him swinging the limb with all her force.  “What gave you the right to interrupt my life and throw me back here?  I want answers and I want them now, you bastard!”

This was Robbie’s second shock of the day.  His dainty, beautiful Faerie Queen was coming at him ready to do battle.  What had he done?  Had she seen his erection?  Before he could reason or think, or move out of the way, the limb made contact with his skull and Robbie went down.

“You bastard, you stupid bastard, I want to go home!”  Stella was beating Robbie’s prone body before she realized that he was on the ground and totally non-responsive.  She jumped back quickly and fell to her knees beside him.  She checked his scalp and found no blood, but noted a large lump on the side of his head.  He was going to be mad when he woke up.

“Robbie!  Robbie, wake up. Robbie, wake up NOW!” she shook his shoulders to rouse him and saw him slowly open his eyes.  He blinked several times, looking around somewhat confused and tried to push himself off the ground, and with Stella’s help he managed to sit up.

“Robbie!  I’m sorry I hurt you, but you can’t be kidnapping me and sending me through time and space and throwing me back to the God-forsaken 1600’s.  I’ll die here, Robbie.”

Robbie shook his head and looked at her.  What was she talking about?  He hadn’t kidnapped her…not yet, anyway.  He’d never been to Tegis.

“Lass, what are ye talkin’ about?  I will nay let ye die!”  Robbie’s confused look tore at Stella.

“Send. Me. Back. NOW!” she slapped Robbie on the side of his head hard, sending another shock of pain through him.

“And would I be sending ye back to the depths of hell from whence ye sprang?!  God, woman, stand away from me!  Who are ye that ye beat me so, wee beastie?”  His look of surprise was almost comical.

“Are you Robbie?”

“Aye, I am called Robbie.  How d’ ye know my name?”

“Do you know my name?” asked Stella sternly, her hands fisted at her hips, still holding the limb.

“Would it be Lucifer?  Tell me how ye know my name?”  Robbie got up from the ground, his hand to his head rubbing the bump. 

Stella was a mighty warrior in her indignation.  Her blouse, still wet, was transparent and her thin bra did not hide the hard nipples pressing against the fabric.  She was breathing heavily and her volcanic eyes were narrowed and shooting hot golden lava.  She held the limb like a baseball bat, ready to strike once again.  Robbie watched her in her glorious rage and was stricken by want and passion. She was an Amazon, a Valkyrie, a powerful legend of female anger and her force was majestic.  Robbie was mesmerized.

“Do you know who I am?” she repeated, her voice growing louder as she closed in on Robbie.  He backed away cautiously, not wanting to have to take the limb from her but he was pretty sure he wasn’t going to allow her to hit him with it again.

“Nay, lass.  I do not.  Ne’er a’fore this day have I seen ye, but would that God allow me to see ye everyday henceforth.” Robbie stopped backing away from her, never dropping his gaze from her amazing eyes.  He did not want her to run, but he also didn’t want her to kill him.  She may have been bonny but she was also dangerous.

Stella took a deep breath, her hands still tightly gripping her weapon and looked at Robbie.  His startled look told her he was as confused as she.  He looked like the warrior of the painting – he WAS the warrior of the painting - but this man was innocent of her existence.  Stella was puzzled.    Where was that feeling of absolute and undeniable love she had felt in the studio?  She felt nothing but rage at this man. If he brought her back, and she knew he did, why would he bring her back and deny her? None of this was making any sense to her.

“You absolutely don’t know me?”  Stella’s hope of leaving began to fade and she felt as if she had been betrayed and abused, stranded at the prom, abandoned by her date. 

“Nay lass, I dinna” Robbie looked at her and tentatively reached for her.  She slapped his hand away and he dropped his arm.  Maybe when she was calm he could find out what she was talking about.  There appeared to be more to his Faerie Queen then he first suspected.  “I dinn’a even ken yer name.”

“My name,” she said emphatically through clenched teeth, “is
Stella
!” She waited for a reaction from him, but other than looking grateful for having her name he showed no signs of recognition.

“Star,” he said. “Ye are named fer the heavens.”  Stella looked at Robbie as if he were an idiot, which she thought was a pretty fair assessment.  She did not move but heaved a sigh then dropped the limb.  Her gaze dropped to the ground and she fought back the tears that were forming.  Her face that had been so gleaming in anger, was now sad and defeated.  The hard edge of righteous anger was replaced by the softness of an undeniable misery. Could things get worse than this? 
No, please God, don’t let them get worse.  Please take me home
.   She slowly turned and made her way to her horse, she was leaving and she was going to find the Stones without this time-bungler.