The Highlander's Bride(92)

The busy market provided perfect cover for her to move about without detection. She was just another peasant woman among many searching for bargains. All she had to do was keep to herself, purchase the few items they needed, and not forget the sweet cakes.

She stabled her horse with the farmer that had looked after their horses the last time they were there. More soldiers roamed about than usual and kept suspicious eyes on any man or couple who entered the market, though not single women, unless they fancied them. Sara didn’t have that problem and did not draw a notable glance.

She was quick to make her purchases with the money Cullen had provided, and even found another whittled animal for Alexander, this one a dog. She neared the sweet cake stand happy to be near done when chaos broke loose.

A soldier had grabbed a young lass and was dragging her off, screaming. Those who tried to help found themselves threatened by soldiers protecting their own.

Sara couldn’t ignore the young woman’s agonizing screams for help. It wasn’t right, and brawn would not help in this matter. She knew it would take a quick mind and mouth to outwit these fools, and she was glad she hadn’t promised her husband that she’d hold her tongue.

She hurried over to the sweet cake table, the soldier having dragged the young woman behind it.

“Four sweet cakes,” she said, placing a coin on the worn wooden planks supported by four barrels. She stretched her neck, staring outrageously at the soldier, who laughed at the woman’s struggles.

“What are you looking at?” the soldier demanded when he caught her stare.

Sara took her bundle of sweet cakes. “You do know who you’ve got there, don’t you?”

“She’s a peasant,” the soldier barked.

“True, but a favored one,” Sara said, and turned to leave.

“Who favors you?” he asked the girl, and when she didn’t answer, he called out. “You! Wait there.”

Sara turned.

“Who favors her?” the soldier asked.

Sara shrugged. “It’s not for me to say.”

The soldier moved off the lass and stood yanking her to her feet, to drag her around in front of Sara. The lass trembled and her terror-filled eyes pleaded for help.

Sara did not fear the soldier, a runt of a man she was sure she could send flying with one good blow to his soft gut. But she knew his lingering comrades might object.

“Tell me,” he ordered with a raised fist.

She almost laughed at his puny threat, but that wouldn’t help her cause, and besides, she had to make him think the lass was favored by someone he would fear enough to release her.

“I really shouldn’t say, and she certainly won’t,” Sara said, shaking a downcast head.

“One of you will tell me now,” he shouted.

“We’d rather face your wrath than his,” Sara said with a quiver.

She didn’t expect to be backhanded across the mouth, and the taste of blood from her split lip sent her temper soaring. But it would do her no good to lose it now, she told herself. She had the woman’s safety to consider, and then there was Cullen and Alexander. She could not jeopardize their safety any more than she already had.

She slowly gathered the packages that had been knocked from her arms and stood to face the soldier once again.

“Need I tell you again, woman?” the soldier demanded.

Sara performed courageously, shaking her head and shuddering. “I will not speak his name. Do what you may to me but I will not speak his name.”

The young woman finally realized what Sara was about and joined her charade.

“She is right. His name should not be spoken, not even whispered.”

The soldier hastily shoved the lass aside as if she had the pox. “Be gone with you.”

The lass retreated quickly, though not before sending Sara a slight nod of gratitude.

The soldier brazenly approached Sara. “Perhaps I should take you in her place.”

Sara smiled. “If you don’t mind the pox.”

He stumbled backward. “Be gone with you and don’t show your face around here again or I’ll see you imprisoned.”

Sara hung her head and with repeated whispers of gratitude rushed off. She was quick to get her horse and make her escape, not wanting to be around when or if the soldier discovered the truth and saw himself for the fool he was.

She enjoyed a battle of wits rather than a battle of brawn. It was so much more challenging and satisfying when victorious. However, she wasn’t foolish enough to believe herself superior, and took precautions on her return trip to make certain she was not followed.

Her split lip swelled and refused to stop bleeding, and she had to spit the blood from her mouth as she rode along. Cullen wasn’t going to be pleased with her actions, but how could she have left that woman to such a horrendous fate and do nothing?