The Witch and The Thief

23

"Aye, well... " Rhys' face fell in a mulish frown as he dug his thumb into a deep groove on the scarred tabletop. "You have my word to try not to antagonize the witch on purpose."

Lachlan cocked his head to his right and arched a brow, "And?"

"And... " Rhys pursed his lips as though he'd eaten something revoltingly sour before grumbling barely loud enough for Lachlan and Maera to hear, "I'll apologize to the lass should an opportune moment present itself." He sighed and met Lachlan's gaze, "Satisfied?"

Nodding, Lachlan stood, pushing his chair back with a loud scrape against the floor. "'Tis time we made ready to depart."

Orin and Rhys stood without further reply and left the tavern. Lachlan watched them for a moment, dreading what lay ahead and feeling more and more uncertain of how the next hour would go, let alone the next few days with Orin, Rhys, and Lucida in tow.

If the time spent in one another's company was any indication as to how the rest of their journey would progress, there was sure to be trouble from all three at any given moment.

What he wouldn't give to go back in time to when his life was simple, and the only decision to make was where he'd be resting his head for the night. Lachlan reached up and adjusted his hood as he turned to Maera, "Ready?"

Maera nodded as she silently made it to her feet and tucked an errant lock of hair behind her ear. Her stomach flipped and knotted with a mix of panic and longing at the thought of being in Lachlan's arms again.

She needed a moment to herself, a chance to collect her bearings and clear her mind. Maybe she'd even manage to gather the nerve to ask him what he intended to do about her reward.

"Do I have time enough to use the privy before we leave?"

"Aye," Lachlan held out his hand, wondering if given her reticence over the past several hours in his company, she'd refuse it. When she placed her trembling hand in his with only the slightest hesitation, a peculiar thrill of excitement and pleasure coursed through his veins. "I'll show you where 'tis."

He led her out and around the east side of the tavern, pointing to a shoddy structure nestled in a little clearing of trees and flowering bushes. Sensing she might prefer not to have him loitering about while she attended to business, Lachlan mumbled, "I'll fetch Brutus and meet you back here in a few minutes."

Maera bit back a smile at his obvious discomfort and nodded, took a deep breath, and approached the narrow building, no larger than a modest broom closet, with caution. Its stench rolled forward in nauseating waves, proclaiming its purpose, had Maera been in doubt, long before she opened the narrow door and stepped within its fetid walls.

Holding her breath, she hurried to relieve herself, gasping for air when she flung the door open and stumbled into the clearing, fearing she'd vomit or pass out. Maera doubled-over, bracing her hands on her knees as her oxygen-deprived lungs drank in the clean, salty air.

Suddenly, a thick, well-muscled arm grabbed Maera around her waist, and another clamped over her mouth. She stiffened and let out a loud yelp of alarm, knowing instantly they didn't belong to Lachlan and tried to pry his arm away.

"I'll be claiming that reward for you, lass," he panted in her ear. "'Tis too handsome a sum to ignore."

Maera's stomach lurched, her heart raced with dread, and an overwhelming fear took hold. His grip refused to budge, tightening as he dragged her back toward the shelter of the trees. Desperate, she stomped her heel as hard as she could on top of his foot and bit down on his hand.

"Viper!" The man howled in pain, letting go of her as he jumped back. "I'll make you regret that."

Maera picked up her skirts and ran. She glanced over her shoulder once and screamed at finding her attacker close on her heels. His pockmarked face bore a thick webbing of pale pink scars along the left side, suggesting he'd been badly burned in a fire long ago.