Highland Defender (Scots and Swords #2) - Kathryn Le Veque Page 0,1

to regain her lost meat. But when Bane managed to confiscate a couple of sausages, she thought he was stealing them and grabbed the nearest weapon, which happened to be a dented copper piss pot near a doorway. Swinging it with all her might, she brained him with it.

Piss went flying in all directions.

“Bleeding Christ, woman,” he gasped as he crashed into the wall behind him. “What in the bloody hell was that for?”

She was still wielding the pot like a club. “Give me back my sausages!”

“I was going tae,” he said, shaking off the bells in his ears. “Give a man a chance before ye’re beating his brains in.”

“Give a man a chance?” she repeated, aghast. “A chance tae do what? Rob me blind? Look around ye. Everything I had is lost because of ye and yer thieving friends!”

“I am many things, but a thief isna one of them.”

“I saw ye help those men who were attacking me!”

He shook his head again, wiping the piss from his eyes. “What ye saw was me coming tae yer aid. I heard the screaming and came tae help.” He opened his hand and let the two sausages in his grip fall to the ground. “But ye can fend for yerself now, wench. Best of luck tae ye.”

He was woozy from the hit, staggering off as the woman stood there, piss pot still in hand, watching him go. As she stood there, confused and upset, the two sausages he’d dropped were picked up by children, who ran off with them.

And then there were none.

Almost as swiftly as it started, the fight was over, the crowd was gone, and she had nothing left. With only the empty burlap the sausages had been wrapped in, the expression on her face was one of despair. Hanging her head in defeat, she turned to walk away, heading in another direction, when she heard a crash behind her.

The man she’d struck with the piss pot had tripped and fallen against a rain barrel. As the woman watched, he tried to hold on to right himself but he ended up pulling the barrel down. Water gushed all over him.

Clearly, her hit to the head had done some damage.

The woman watched him struggle and her despair turned to guilt. Considering the fact that he hadn’t run off with the sausages when he very well could have, perhaps he’d been telling the truth. Perhaps she’d been too hasty in her judgment and now he was suffering the consequences.

Retracing her steps, she reluctantly went to help him, but Bane saw her coming.

He braced himself.

“Are ye back tae brain me again?” he asked. “If ye are, I canna give ye much of a fight.”

From his position on the muddy ground, he gazed up at her warily. She was standing a few feet away, looking at him as if debating whether or not to help him. Or kill him. It could have been either choice in her case. She’d already accused him of being a thief, so perhaps she’d come to finish what she started.

“I’ve not come tae brain ye again,” she said after a moment. “It looks as if I already knocked ye sufficiently.”

“Ye did.”

She cocked her head as she looked at him, studying him as he wallowed in the mud. “I was thinking that ye could have run off with the sausages, but ye dinna,” she said. “Given that everyone was grabbing for them, I hope ye can understand my reaction. I thought ye were stealing them, too.”

His gaze lingered on her before he leaned back against the wall. Exhaustion was setting in and his head was killing him.

“What were ye doing with those sausages, anyway?” he asked. “I’ve not seen ye around here before.”

She lifted the empty sack in a helpless gesture. “M’lady sent me tae the butcher’s shop,” she said. “This was the shortest route back home. She’s expecting them for her morning meal and I was trying tae hurry, so I cut through this part of town. That was my mistake.”

“Who is yer lady?”

“Lady Currie,” she said. “We live in Meadowbank, tae the east, north of Holyrood. Do ye know it?”

He blinked as he processed what she’d told him. “Ye’re a fair way off from Meadowbank,” he said. “What in the world did ye come tae this side of town for? Surely there are butchers closer tae Meadowbank.”

The woman shrugged weakly. “Lady Currie likes this butcher,” she said. “Usually, she sends the menservants, but no one was available at