Written in 59 minutes. No time for edits or spellcheck.

 

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The final days of the journey to Braegarie were the most difficult, Jason had warned Elizabeth in advance. It would take them away from a water source for the final two days, into the dense wooded hills of the Highlands with few natural clearings.

This night, by the shores of a small loch, would be the last one they’d spend by the water, he told her as Johnny and Francis set up the camp for the night, and then Jason went to work on the tent.

“It would take nearly three weeks to go around,” Johnny told Elizabeth as she organized their rations of food for the night near the fire Francis was building.

She smiled at him, reflecting on how much had changed in the five days since they’d left Perth. Johnny O’Brien, the sullen Irishman had decided she was okay for a Lowlands lass after all, and had been very nearly kind to her over the last few days. Francis had always been cordial to her, but she felt the sincerity from both of them growing over these last few days.

She told Jason as much that night when she crawled beneath the furs of the palette and he turned to her, his face dimly visible in the shadows of the tent. “Highlanders are always suspicious of strangers,” he told her, sliding the tips of his fingers down her torso, and she shivered. “It’s how we stay alive.”

“I know it’ll be harder when we get to the keep,” she told him as she cuddled closer—it was so cold when the sun dropped behind the trees and hills and Jason seemed to radiate heat. “I’ll have to start all over with your aunt, but if they see Johnny and Francis trust me—“

“It’ll be fine,” Jason promised her, rising up on his elbow, his brow darkening with a scowl. “I’ll make it fine.”

She rolled her eyes—he would likely be able to command most of the men, but Elizabeth knew it would take time to convince the women. Still, it was a sharp turn from the way their marriage had begun, just barely two weeks earlier on the streets of the Royal Mile, with Jason nearly dragging her through the streets, furious with the turn of events.

“What are you thinking about?” he murmured, touching her lips with the tip of his index finger.

“The day we wed,” she admitted honestly. “How different it is now.”

Jason’s lips thinned. “I regret—“

“No—“ She shook her head, cutting him off. “No regrets. Everything—every word, every action—it led us to this moment.” She slid her fingers into his hair. “And this is a good moment. Isn’t it?”

“A very good one,” he murmured, then bowed his head to kiss her.

—

It was hours later, not too terribly far away from dawn when Jason’s eyes simply opened. He frowned into the shadows of the night, trying to understand what had jarred him from sleep. There were no sounds—no voices outside the tent calling for his attention. He listened to the world around him—to the sounds of the trees, and the leaves rustling—the gentle lapping of the loch as wind pushed across the surface—

Nothing.

Then he felt it. A movement at his side.

Thinking Elizabeth had stirred because of him, Jason rolled his body over. She’d turned away in the night—after they’d made love and she’d burrowed into the furs and comfort of the makeshift bed—and she was facing the other side of the tent.

He rose up on his elbow to get a better look at her—was she awake? Or had she simply moved—

Her face was scrunched up as though she’d eaten something tart—her lips pursed—her eyes narrowed into slits—her breathing was fast. Almost shallow. Then she whimpered.

“Elizabeth—“ Alarmed, Jason touched her shoulder, fingers sliding across her bare skin like an electric shock.

She hissed, then sucked in a huge breath, jerking away with a start. Her breathing became even more rapidly as she shoved away from him—from their bed—

“What? What’s wrong? What’s going on? What’s happening?”

Her voice was pitched high, the words were sharp, tumbling over one another— “Jason? Where are you? I can’t find you—“

“Elizabeth—“ Jason reached for her shoulders, dragging one of the furs with him to wrap around her body and draw her closer to him—but she rebuffed him, throwing up her hands in defense.

“Don’t touch me! Don’t—What’s happening—“

“Elizabeth—“

“Jason—“

He turned at the sound of Johnny’s voice outside the tent.

“What’s going on?” his first demanded.

“Nothing. Go back to sleep,” Jason hissed at him, not wanting the man to flip back the tent flap and find his nude wife having some sort of attack—

But the interruption seemed to have broken—when Jason looked back, Elizabeth was staring at him, her eyes wide.

“Jason?”

His relief was quick—she sounded like herself again. Soft. A bit scared, but it was his wife. She reached for the fur he’d tried to put around her, and he helped her come back to the bed.

“What’s going on?” she asked, her voice trembling.

“I don’t know.” Jason cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing her cheek. “Were you having a bad dream?”

“Dream?” she repeated. “A dream.” She closed her eyes. “Oh. Yes. Yes. It must—it must have been a dream. I’m sorry. I haven’t—“

“Do you remember any of it? Will it help to talk of it?” he asked, nearly undone by the single tear that slid down her cheek.

“It was—“ She cleared her throat. “I don’t remember—“

“Elizabeth.”

She stopped speaking. Their eyes held. “You were bleeding,” she said softly. “And I tried to stop it, but then my hands were covered in blood. And it was my fault.” She faltered. “I don’t know why—“

He wasn’t familiar with dreams—he didn’t dream and if any of his men did, they never said. “It was a dream,” he reminded her. “I’m not bleeding. And look—“ He held up her hands which were barely visible in the darkness—but the pale skin was evident. “No blood on your hands. It was a dream,” he repeated.

“A dream,” Elizabeth said with a nod. “Just…just a dream. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to wake—or—“ She looked back towards the front of the tent. “Was that Johnny I heard?”

“It’s fine.” He kissed her forehead and pulled her more tightly against her, unhappy with how chilled her skin was. “He’ll get over it. Go back to sleep. You need your rest for the next few days.”

“I’m sorry,” she said again.

“Don’t apologize,” he said, and he winced because the words sounded more sharp than he meant them to. “I just—I was…” He grappled with how to explain himself. “I was worried,” he said finally. “But you’re all right. And so am I. That’s what matters. Go back to sleep,” he said again, but made sure his tone was softer.

She never did drift back into sleep—he never felt her body soften and relax against him the way she did when she slid into dreams at night—and maybe that was for the best if nightmares like that were waiting for her when she closed her eyes.

—

The next morning, Elizabeth was determined to put the entire thing out of her head. She refused to think it was a vision of the future she’d seen in her head. It couldn’t be. She wasn’t going to hurt her new husband—why would she? And Jason was stronger than a hundred men—

It had just been her nerves and worry. They were only two days away from Braegarie— front the start of her new life. It was natural.

With that firmly in her mind, she helped Jason pack their things from the tent and their party got back onto the trail.

Jason had been right to warn her that the next leg of the journey would be more difficult. The land was steeper—and it climbed more sharply. Their horses went slower as they carefully picked their way over the rocky hills and wound through dense woods on a narrow trails.

At noon, Jason called for a break and helped her down from the horse. “There’s just the one clearing near here,” he told her. “We’ll exercise your muscles to keep them loose—we won’t be able to stop at supper.”

“Oh, we could—“ When he just stared at her, she nodded. “All right.” She wound her arm through his as they left Johnny and Francis with the horses. “I’m doing much better than I was when we left Edinburgh,” she said, irritated with how bright and strange her voice felt.

“You are. When we come back to Edinburgh, you’ll be comfortable,” he replied. When they reached the clearing nearly ten minutes later, Jason turned her so that they were facing one another. “Are you all right? I know you didn’t sleep well—do you dream like that often?”

“Not terribly.” She looked away. “Just sometimes. And I don’t know if they’re always bad. I haven’t shared my bed with anyone before now.”

“Are you angry with me?” he asked, his brows drawing together.

“No, I’m—“ Elizabeth sighed. “I’m angry with myself. For having a dream like that and upsetting you. For making you worry about me. I’m not weak.”

“Did someone say you were?” Jason demanded. He glanced back towards the trail from where they’d come. “Did Johnny or Francis—“

“No—“ Elizabeth began, but then stopped. Because his face changed. It tightened and his eyes sharpened as he whipped his head around to the other direction. “Jason—“

“Quiet. Behind me,” he said flatly even as he took her arm and pushed her. As Elizabeth hurried to obey him, she was stunned to see a trio of Highlanders stepping out from the trees at the other side of the clearing. Not men from Jason’s clan, clearly from the way he was acting and the colors they were.

“We’ll be taking the lass now,” the one in the middle said, sauntering forward. “And before ye call for your men—“

Elizabeth turned towards the trail—and uttered a sharp cry of alarm as two more men came from behind them — dragging Francis with them, his brow bloody, his body sagging. Where was Johnny? They must have been attacked as soon Jason and Elizabeth had disappeared from view—

Were these men waiting? How had they known—

“Don’t be making a mistake, my laird,” the man called, drawing their attention back to the first group of men. “No harm, no foul. We’ll take the lass off your hands, you tell the world she died on the way home, and no one will even blink—“

Jason said nothing, but his body was as tight as a rock. He was outnumbered and had no weapon that she was aware of.

“What will it be, Laird? You either die now or at home in bed as a old man. Either way, we’ll be taking her.”

“Not while I draw breath,” Jason growled.

“Jason,” she breathed. “Please—“ Oh, God. Oh, God. It wasn’t a dream. It wasn’t a dream.

He’d be broken, bloody, and bruised. And the blood would be on her hands. Someone had come for her. Someone had known. And she’d not warned them. She’d not told him her secret and it had put them all into danger—

“Can you climb a tree?” Jason murmured, his voice so low that Elizabeth could scarcely hear him.

Not since she was a child, but— “Aye,” she breathed.

“When I say run — go to to the left and climb the first you see until you can go no higher,” he murmured. “You’re lighter and quicker.”

“Laird, I’m getting impatient!”

“It’s our best chance,” he continued, his voice so soft she had to stretch to hear him. “Elizabeth?”

“Aye,” she managed, her voice trembling.

“Go!” he ordered and she ran.

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