Highland Island (Book 6)

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

It only took a few seconds for everything to fall into place in Isla's mind, but in that time the stranger had already reached dry land. The basket of mushrooms safely in her lap. But the safety of those fungi was the least of her concern at that moment. Her own safety was now the issue. As her mind finally caught up with her body she was free to move once more. Flailing about like a landed fish, her basket fell to the ground as the stranger clung to her tight.

Balling her fists and hitting them against strong, muscular shoulders. "Let me down you oaf!"

Finally looking up, just as her small fist hit the soft flesh surrounding a forest green eye, deep as the shadows around her. His head barely moved, as her fist throbbed red hot with pain, causing a howl to leave her throat. A low grunt leaving the brute who held her.

"Now look what you've gone and done. You've gone and broke my hand you big fool!" Shaking her hand, as pain raced up to her wrist, she practically growled as if she were a feral wolf. "Let me go, this instant."

It came more of a shock than anything when he decided to take her up on her word. Releasing her from his arms. Her cry of shock, turned to one of outrage and pain as her tailbone made contact with the soft earth below.

Unable to stand at that moment, she caught her breath and stared at the male who stood looming above her, still as a statue.

"How...how dare you?" She sputtered, shocked he could do anything like this. Not that she knew the man, which meant she should be glad to be free of him. But in such a fashion? How very dare he? "What do you think you are doing?" Slapping her hands against the ground, she flinched as she quickly cradled her hand against her chest as the pain made her gasp.

Annoyance seeped through, deepening her anger. "Do you not speak?"

"Aye, I do." The deep timbre was like a Loch in the pits of winter. So unlike the giggling brook nearby. It held a stillness and hidden depths and secrets below. It reminded her of an old oak, solid and sturdy, so much so, that nothing could bring it down. Yet, the lilt to it was foreign, it was not a tone which she had ever heard before.

"Don't speak much do you?" Her words were acerbic, and she knew frustration and embarrassment were taking over her. Her cheeks heating as all he did was stare at her. From a height which shadowed his face from her gaze. "How long have you been watching me?" The idea came suddenly that he was the eyes she could feel upon her.

"Are you going to speak or not?" The huff was, almost, silent, and yet she could feel his mirth, though he did not move. She still could not see his face. Crossing her arms, and feeling a little childish in doing so, she was a little ashamed to admit that she did start to pout before she pulled herself out of it.

Shaking herself out of this rut she had gotten herself into she, went to stand. Only to find his hand waiting to help her. Staring at it a moment, it was his stoic "Not," that had her taking his large, tan calloused hand with her much smaller though still rough hand. Hard work was not a stranger to either of them it seemed. But he was a man of very few words it seemed.

Finally able to look up and see his face in the dim light, though he was still over a head taller than her and at least twice as wide in the shoulders. It was a delight and grounding moment when she realised that his eyes did not match. The deep forest green had a companion of the lightest brown. Almost like the golden sheaf's of corn had been turn liquid with a hint of shadow. It held her captive a moment, a sight so strange and yet full of beauty that she could not quite release herself from his gaze. Though it was with a slight wince that she saw the first hint of a bruise beginning to linger around the green orb she had so sorely abused.

"You really should be more concerned for your health." His quiet words lingered in the air around her. Shaking her head to be free of his spell, she let her gaze wonder over his rough, soiled clothing, though it was well repaired and looked after. The forest colours had helped him to blend in, his sturdy boots old but well loved.

Her gut told her he was safe. She had learnt that her gut was rarely wrong, but she could have been more cautious. She was a foolish child for her actions here, yet her feet would not respond to her commands to move. Her mouth, however, decided that it would move without any thought whatsoever.

"Now you decide to speak? Any other words of wisdom?" Her hands had somehow ended up on her hips. "And if you had wanted to harm me, you would have let me fall in the brook." The surety of her words shocked even Isla, but it was a truth her entire core believed in.

"You should get back to the Keep. It is not safe in these forests anymore." With barely more than a glance, he turned to make his way back over the brook. Yet Isla was not ready to say goodbye to this stranger yet. With a burst of speed, she slid in front of him.

"Wait, just a darn moment. Who are you?" Crossing her arms, she caught his gaze once more, noticed the tan on his face mirrored that of his hands. His hair, she had thought brown, but it was more a deep russet red now he was closer to the brook and the light which filtered through the tree canopy. His beard a little unkempt, but showed a hint more ginger that the waves held in a leather que at his nape.

Mirroring her position, she felt he was mocking her. He raised an eyebrow at her before she saw his lip twitch.

"I am the man who just saved you from an unwanted swim. Enjoy the rest of your day. I will be off now." He moved around her, taking great care not to touch her again and took to the stepping stones across the brook.

Spinning to watch, she knew she should let him leave and yet her mouth had decided to run away with itself. "But you have not answered my questions." She sounded petulant and she knew it. But was rewarded by a flash of white as his smile transformed his face for the second it was there. He bowed deeply, a flamboyance to his movements that his actions so far told her was an act to rise her ire once more.

"I never said I would answer your questions." He turned again to leave.

"What about my mushrooms?" She could have smacked herself upside the head. What did he care about the mushrooms? What did he care that Cook was actually going to kill her for the scattered mushrooms, a few of which had been trodden by a pair of very large boots.

Without turning, he called over his shoulder. "You wanted to be released."

"So what am I to tell Cook? A hulking stranger carried me away and when he dropped me your mushrooms became inedible?" She could feel the need to keep him near become almost desperation. The confusion nudging its way in, why was this so important to her?

He glanced over his shoulder at her, a gleam in his gold toned eye. "Tell the Cook whatever you wish. That is not my concern." His strides lengthened and just as he disappeared into the tree line, her mouth took over once more.

"Isla!" She almost screamed her name at him. How desperate could she be for a man to stay with her? "My name is Isla." The latter was a whisper, she knew he would never hear, and he most probably did not care.

Shaking herself back to reality and trying to get some sense back into her head, she turned back to the chore she had been sent to complete. Her shoulders drooped. Cook really was going to kill her. Maybe she could find her mystery man and live with him in the forest. That may be a lot safer than what she was about to face upon her return now. Snatching up her basket, even as her hand protested. Now she had to salvage what she could of this situation, and still return before Cook was ready to finish cooking for evening meal.