The Seer - Hildie McQueen Page 0,22

lads. Wanting to see what happens.”

Niven looked around, his brows lowered. “Boar hunts are too dangerous. When I catch them, I’m going to teach them a lesson.”

They doubled back after Niven whistled and signaled to let his guardsmen know to continue on. It took but a few minutes to come upon the startled pair of boys who looked from Niven to him. Aware his scar made him appear intimidating, Alasdair scowled at them and pulled his sword. He slid a glance to Niven. “Can I slash one of them across the throat?”

Niven studied the boys. “I told ye to remain home,” he told one in particular. It dawned on Alasdair by the boy’s features he was related to the man. “Go now before I allow this guard to do as he pleases with ye.”

Alasdair advanced with a growl as the wide-eyed boys whirled their horses around and galloped away.

“Yer son?”

“Nay, nephew.” Niven shook his head and chuckled.

When Alasdair and Niven caught up with the party, they’d split into groups.

The hunt would take most of the day. The men would return to a feast set up in the courtyard. The prize boar would be presented and be roasted for the following day’s meal.

Soon Alasdair figured out the routine he was to accomplish and rode his horse up and down the main trail as a deterrent to any boar that may have managed to get past the hunting parties.

Moments later, he dismounted and went to a creek to drink and splash water over his head.

The solitary moment gave him time to ponder what to do about Dallis. She called to him like no woman ever had. He’d claimed her the night before, had been her first lover.

Although Dallis had taken to making love quite enthusiastically, there was that moment when pain happened, and she’d clutched to him while staring into his eyes, trusting him with the most precious of gifts.

He had nothing to offer in exchange for her hand. Her father would have him run off the lands if he even dared to approach. There had to be a way.

“Did ye not wish to participate in the hunt?” Cuthbert appeared just ahead on the right. Sword unsheathed, he urged his horse forward.

“I came to assist as guard, not to hunt.” Alasdair gauged the distance to his horse. It was possible to make it there, but it would be close. Sword across his back and dagger to the side, he waited with his hands loose at his sides.

Cuthbert moved closer and Alasdair walked backward until behind a fallen tree. “Ye overstep?” the man said in a casual tone. “How could ye consider yerself worthy of a laird’s daughter?”

“Of the two of us, I am more so,” Alasdair replied.

A bark of laughter was followed with a sneer. “Yer insolence will not be tolerated guard.”

The man charged forward, his sword slicing across as he neared Alasdair who dived to the ground, rolled and pulled his own sword out.

Enraged, Cuthbert turned the horse again. “Ye cannot best me. But it will be good practice. I am the best swordsman in the region. Did yer cousin not tell ye?”

Interesting that Cuthbert had taken the time to find out who he was. Probably after witnessing he and Dallis exchanging a look that morning. “Nay, my cousin didn’t think it important enough.” Alasdair’s sword clanged against Cuthbert’s when the man charged again.

As he rounded the horse, it gave Alasdair a chance to run behind a tree and seek cover.

Cuthbert charged again, only slightly slowed by the obstacle as he brought the sword down on both sides of the tree. Each time, Alasdair was able to block him.

With the advantage of being higher, Cuthbert could swing downward, which made it hard for Alasdair to defend against.

Alasdair managed to round the tree and pulling the dagger from his belt, he pricked the horse on the rump. The animal reared, dislodging the rider and Cuthbert fell to the ground.

Growling in rage, Cuthbert charged at Alasdair. “Ye hurt my favorite horse. For that ye will pay.”

Alasdair defended from the raging man’s sword but did not fight back. “The horse hates ye as much as everyone else who surrounds ye.”

Indeed, the steed kept running, seeming to sense freedom. He’d not stabbed the animal deep enough to give it permanent damage. Alasdair preferred not to hurt animals.

Anger empowered Cuthbert, who continued to strike with obvious intent to kill. Having had enough, Alasdair swerved his sword in a “Z” pattern, sending the other man’s sword flying