When Fate Dictates (11 page)

“I will have the innkeeper send you something
to eat,” he said absently.

“Oh, well, thanks for that, it explains
everything,” I said, pulling the sheets of the bed up under my chin
in anger. “Why won’t you tell me where you are going?”

He put his blade down and turned to face me,
his eyes veiled and mysterious. “Because it is better that you
don’t know.”

I was somewhat surprised to hear another
knock on the door, an hour or so after Simon had left. I opened the
door cautiously to the sight of two young men and a large wooden
tub of warm water.

“Oh,” I said, staring at them pathetically.
“Is that for me?” They nodded. “Well I guess you had better bring
it in then,” I said, moving aside to let them through the door.

“Where do you want it, miss?” The younger of
the two men asked.

I nodded at the fireplace. “By the fire
please.”

“Is there anything else we can do for you,
miss?” the other lad asked, his tone a little too friendly for my
liking. I turned to face him and caught his eyes lingering over the
swell of my breasts.

“No, thank you. I am fine,” I said, hoping
they would both leave.

“Are you sure you won’t be needing any help
with your bathing miss?” The older man tried again. I was growing
uneasy now.

“No,” I repeated with as much confidence as I
could muster. “I would like you both to leave now,” I finished
firmly. The younger man turned to go.

“Come on Alec, you have had your fun, leave
the lady be now,” he said grabbing the older man’s arm.

“I bid you goodnight Miss,” the man called
Alec said, tipping an imaginary cap and to my relief, turning to
follow his friend’s lead. At the door Alec stopped to look at me, a
cheeky grin filling his face. “Don’t forget, miss, if you are
feeling a bit lonely and in need of a companion, I would be more
than happy to help you make use of that there tub.”

I shut the door forcibly behind them and
stood with my back resting against it for support. “Dear God what
could Simon have been thinking sending those two up here with a
bath,” I whispered, but only the walls could hear me.

The water was a glorious distraction from my
earlier thoughts and together with the warm meal and a sip or two
of whisky it was not long before I found myself struggling to keep
my eyes open. Eventually, overcome by tiredness, I sank naked into
the bed and slept, hoping that when I awoke Simon would have
returned.

As it happened, he did return before
daybreak. I awoke as he slid into the bed beside me. I opened my
eyes and smiled across at him. “Are you alright?” I said, not sure
whether to ask how his evening had been or not.

“All is well lass,” he said, reaching his arm
out for me.

“Are you going to tell me where you have
been?” I said.

“Yes Corran,” he sighed, “I can tell you
where I have been now.”

I looked at him expectantly; unconvinced that
I was going to like what he had to say. “I have been gambling,” he
said simply. My eyes shot wide open and I stared at him in horror
as the truth behind his words took meaning.

“What money did you use to gamble with?” I
asked, knowing the answer before he gave it.

“The gold,” he said simply.

“You gambled the gold! But why did you do
that Simon? Why would you risk so much?”

“It was the only way to acquire money that I
can use. The gold is nice to have but I can hardly use it to pay
for food or inns. Without it I would not have been able to play for
the high stakes that won us this,” he said, reaching under his
pillow and removing a package. My mouth dropped open as he emptied
the package onto the bed between us.

“There must be three hundred pounds here at
least?” I stammered.

“At least,” he said, a smile twitching at the
side of my mouth.

A thought crossed my mind. “Tell me something
Simon?” I said. “Before you went off gambling with the gold, did
you have the money to pay for this room?”

He shook his head, slowly. “No, of course I
didn’t have the money. But now we do so you don’t need to worry.” I
frowned reproachfully at him.

“What would we have done if you had lost the
gold?” I asked growing slightly hysterically.

“We would have had to leave very quickly and
quietly,” he replied flippantly. “But I didn’t lose the gold and
now we have a lot more money than we did earlier,” he paused, his
eyes serious for the first time. Reaching across the bed, he took
my hand in his, turning it palm up he kissed it gently. “We won’t
be able to stay around here much longer. The people I took this
money off are not too happy about it. I should think they would
much rather have taken the gold off me than give me their money,”
he paused, reaching for his flask on the table beside the bed and
taking a small sip. “I will be very surprised if they don’t yet try
to take the gold and the money from me.” He offered me the flask. I
shook my head, so he turned to replace it on the table. “Tomorrow,
I will get you a new gown and you can sew the gold into my
trousers, and then wee Corran we must leave this city.”

I understood why he had gambled but that did
not change the fact that he had taken a great risk. Further to
that, I knew he was right in his assumption that the people off
whom he had won the money were almost certain to want it back. I
also wondered if he had planned all along to come to Newcastle
purely for the gambling.

“We will have to be very careful even once we
leave here. There are a lot of people who know about the gold now
and a fair few who know about the money as well,” he smiled
boastfully. I was outraged with his arrogance and conceit.

His mood took my mind back to the nights
before the massacre. I recalled the banter and games between the
men of the village and the soldiers. Although outwardly friendly,
their games always ended with the winners displaying the same
delighted euphoria over their good fortune and triumphs and I
wondered if all men shared the same primeval need to outdo and
better each other.

We left the inn early the following morning,
moving quickly through the streets of the city, acquiring what we
needed with as little fuss as possible. Some time just before
midday, we finally headed back toward the inn.

“Corran, I don’t mean to worry you and don’t
look just now but we are being followed,” he said, taking my hand
in his and increasing our pace.

“Is it the money?” I asked.

“Aye,” he replied, skewing the side of his
mouth and biting thoughtfully on his bottom lip.

“Simon, what are we going to do?”

“Don’t worry, just keep walking.”

I did as he asked but was surprised when we
did not turn down the road that led to our inn. “Simon, aren’t we
going back to the inn?”

“No, we are not.”

“Where are we going then?”

“Just for once, Corran, please don’t question
me. I really don’t have the time for it just now.” His voice was
stern enough to leave me in no doubt that the conversation was
over.

He let go of my hand and bent his arm at the
elbow. “Slip your hand into my arm,” he said.

I did as he asked. “Don’t look down,” he
said, as his other hand rose up, sliding something into the hand I
had hooked in his arm. It was the gold; I could feel its heavy
weight in the palm of my hand. “Now take your hand away from my arm
and put that somewhere safe. We are going to split up. It’s me they
think has the gold. When I tell you to, turn left, don’t look back
and don’t stop for anything,” he paused, “Oh, and don’t go back to
the inn. I will meet you back at the marketplace. If I am not there
in an hour take the gold and go to the blacksmiths I took you to
earlier. Ask for a man by the name of Jimmy and tell him that you
are Mrs. Lamont, come for your husband’s work. He will give you a
package. It will contain the deeds. Take them, Corran, and go to
York. Pass yourself off as Mrs. Lamont, you will find the house in
the region of a place called Stonegate.”

I felt more than saw them closing in on us
and so, apparently, did Simon. He grabbed for my hand squeezed it
hard and glanced swiftly across at me. “Ready lass?”

I nodded. “Simon, be careful.”

“Now go,” he whispered.

I let go of his hand and took the alley to my
left. I risked a glance over my shoulder and caught sight of a man
coming up behind Simon, pulling a knife from his belt. My legs went
weak and my knees buckled.

“Simon!” I screamed at the top of my voice.
The man turned his head toward me.

“Kill him!” he shouted, lifting his hand in
my direction. Two men who had come up behind him turned to run
toward me.

“Run Corran!” I heard Simon cry in pain as I
turned to make my escape, but the men were upon me. One had his arm
around my neck, dragging me into the alley. I could feel the sharp
edge of a blade pressing down on my throat. The other man was
coming toward me, his eyes dark and hungry for the kill. I could
feel the thumping of my heart in my head and the shaking of my body
as the man stood before me.

“A woman dressed as a man, aye?” he said,
pulling at the ties of my shirt. He moved his head forwards to kiss
me and I tried to turn my head away. The man with his arm around my
neck tightened his hold, and pushed the knife harder against the
side of my neck. I took his warning and closed my eyes in resigned
acceptance of impending death. I could smell the rank, heavy aroma
of his breath and choked back an urge to be sick.

“Open your eyes woman!” he demanded, tugging
harder on the ties of my shirt. Ignoring him, I held them shut and
thinned my lips in defiance.

He slapped me hard across the face and my
eyes watered with the stinging of the pain but still I refused to
open them. I gasped in agony and my eyes flew open as I felt the
full force of his fist in my stomach. I crumpled, held upright only
by the arm around my neck. My head fell limply forwards on the
blade and I felt the trickle of blood from my throat as the alley
swam around me. He grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled my head
back. My shirt front hung heavily, soaked with my life blood as I
fought to stay conscious. But darkness closed around me as I prayed
that Simon had escaped.

I heard the murmur of a voice somewhere in
the distant echo of a dream. I tugged at my mind, desperate to drag
myself from sleep. My arm reached out in the direction of the
voice, my fingers stretching to touch its source. I clawed at a
tiny hole of light; desperate to break through the darkness and as
I did I saw the great highland stag with its silver antlers bending
toward me. With the grace of an angel it dropped on its front legs
and knelt in front of me. I crawled toward it and pulled myself
onto its back and it rose. I held onto its fur as it flew through
the air toward the tiny hole of light. I held out my hand to touch
the light and the stag burst through the darkness and into the
shining brightness of life.

I gasped two short quick breaths as my lungs
sprang back to life. My eyelids flickered and I fought to keep them
open. My mouth filled with the bitter taste of blood and I knew
what had happened. Reaching for my throat I felt the sticky
substance of the wound. I lifted my head from the puddle of blood
and stared into Simon’s face.

“Dear God! Corran, don’t move,” he said,
ripping his shirt from his body and pushing it hard across my
throat.

“Simon,” I gurgled as blood filled my
mouth.

“Hush, don’t try and talk.”

“Simon,” I tried again, turning my head to
the side so that the blood could run out of my mouth. “Simon,
it’s... alright,” I stammered, “I...don’t know how I know...” I
gasped again, fighting for breath. “But I won’t die... not today.”
I choked, coughing up some blood to clear my throat.

I was right; I did not die that day.

He lifted me silently into his arms and
carried me back to the inn, where he laid me gently upon the
bed.

For several hours I drifted in and out of
consciousness but eventually my eyes opened and I knew it was over.
I reached up to feel the cut in my throat and found nothing but the
knot of a long scar. I opened my mouth to speak but Simon held his
fingers to my lips.

“You were right,” he said, his face wearing
an expression somewhere between terror and indescribable relief. “I
don’t know what happened to you Corran, but the wound has healed
and you have lived.” His words were slurred and I realized, as he
tilted a flask to his mouth, that he was drunk. “What are you
lass?” he asked.

I sat up slowly and tried to meet his eyes
but he turned his head from me.

“I don’t know what I am Simon,” I replied,
shrugging my shoulders and shaking my head.

“Are you a witch?” he demanded bluntly.

“I told you, I don’t know what I am but I am
no witch.”

“What just happened to you Corran? That is
not natural. You should have died.” He rubbed his forehead as if to
dismiss a thought. “Feel the scar Corran,” he ordered.

I had already felt it and knew the gash had
healed. I also knew, as he did, that no man or woman could heal so
quickly and that by rights I should have bled to death.

“I know I should have died, Simon, I know.”
My eyes filled with tears as I shook with my own terror and fear of
who I was. I reached out for him but he snapped his hand away.
“Simon, please don’t be like this. I haven’t done anything. I know
no more than you do about what I am or why I didn’t die today,” I
pleaded, desperate for him to take me in his arms and tell me that
it would all be alright; that nothing had changed and that he still
loved me.

He reached for his coat and made for the
door. Fleeing, he slammed it behind him. I sat on the grand bedding
of the four poster bed, tears of grief and terror soaking my
cheeks. My hands ran over the cool cotton of the sheets, as my mind
recalled that only a few hours ago we had made love on them, and my
heart broke with the loss of the only man I had ever loved.