Chapter 3

Lucky's POV

We walked at a steady pace, and it seemed somehow that the horse knew it was safest to keep off the main road. To my relief, I didn’t run into any more soldiers or civilians. It was weird though. The man by my side was dressed as a civilian, but he carried a sword and a gun as if he were fighting something. Or at least was concerned about his life. Perhaps it was the norm here, but I had a feeling that something was going on here that was bigger than myself.

We walked for nearly two hours before the man started to come around. I bent forward and, as I suspected, he was waking up.

“You’re awake?” I asked--- and noticed that his eyes were indeed very dark blue. And very beautiful, although he was glaring at me as if he wanted to throw me off a cliff...

“Who are you?” He growled, despite the robes making it difficult for him to speak.

“Friends call me Lucky,” I replied honestly. And mentally snickered at the look on his face when he realized that he was captured by a girl and tied like an animal to his own horse. The man struck me as someone of respect and rank. So seeing him so utterly helpless and comically dangling by the faithful Jolly, made the whole situation utterly ridiculous.

“Do you still want to kill me?” I asked--- and grinned when he responded with a look that could kill a normal person.

“I’m considering it,” he replied truthfully. And while I appreciated the honesty, it didn't really fill me with the reassurance I was hoping for. From the corner of my eye, I could see that he was desperately trying to figure a way out of this mess.

“And if I cut you loose?” I asked. And his face didn't hide his surprise. Apparently, he didn’t believe me, since his first instinct was to see if there were anyone else there. Was he being made into a laughingstock? To ease his mind - and because I might need his help later - I stopped the Jolly. Awkwardly, I got down and walked up next to him.

“Well?” I prompted again, feigning impatience. But truth be told I knew that staying out here was risky - especially for me. Be it English or Scots, I was screwed either way. Unless I got this man's help, that was...

"I might reconsider," he offered halfheartedly.

"That’s not very reassuring," I scoffed.

“Well, it doesn’t exactly fill me with confidence to trust the lass who knocks me out, ties me up, and drags me around behind a horse.”

“Say’s the man who first talked nonsense, before trying to kill me,” I clapped back.

“It’s Gaelic,” he snapped--- but it was getting harder for him to talk because of how his arms were tied above his head. He had to take a deep breath between the sentences and there was a pause between the words. And it tore at the carer inside of me, seeing him in pain. He was suffering and it was unnecessary. I couldn't believe he would honestly kill me. He wanted to, but there was restraint in his eyes. And curiosity. I had a feeling that he found me as interesting as I found him...

I pulled on the knot, and he fell to the ground with a growl. He quickly recovered and sat up, looking at me as if I'd grown an extra head.

“I speak a lot of languages,” I confessed and threw him a knife, still keeping myself at a safe distance. “But garlic ain’t one of them!”

He gave me a highly skeptical look, as he reached for the knife. He made a strange sound, speaking in Gaelic again probably, and muttering to himself.

“I was asking what you were doing alone in the woods,” he explained, while he surprisingly quickly got himself loose. He got up and walked towards me. This was when I realized that if he wanted to hurt me, I was utterly screwed. Unless I used his size against him, he would be able to crush me in a matter of seconds! The guy was easily 6"2. Broad-shouldered and with arms the size of tree logs, the man looked like he ate boulders for breakfast. Next to this Redwood, I was a mere toothpick!

“It was when I saw the red coat behind you that made me pull my pistol,” he continued and, to my surprise, handed me back the knife!

“Red-coat?” I asked, quickly returning the knife to my pocket.

"An English officer of His Royal Highness’s army," he explained, which still didn't explain a hell of a lot to me. But if their relationship was anything like the one back home and the Danish, I could relate...

“So, you didn’t want to kill me?” I questioned, just to be safe - and feeling a little silly right about now.

“No,” he answered and leaned forward. He was angry, but I had a feeling that that wasn’t entirely because I’d done something wrong. “But I’m afraid I will need a good reason to let you live.”

Erm...

“Why?” I exclaimed, confused. And what was even more frustrating was that he looked surprised. Just before a thin smile stretched across his lips. He stood up straight, folding his huge arms over his massive chest and generally looking way too pleased with himself.

“You don’t know who I am, do you?”

No, obviously, was what I wanted to say. But that wasn’t going to help my case. I needed leverage. I took a step back and gave my prisoner another once over. He stood straight, and his demeanor was that of someone who expected people to carry out his orders, no matter what. But he was being cautious. A Scot in Scotland afraid? I put it together when I remembered the military man back at the river.

“Well, this is what I know so far,” I replied and enjoyed the confusion his stiff frown was trying to hide. “If the red ones catch you, you’re royally screwed, because you're fighting to free this part of Scotland from the English invaders.”

This time he couldn’t hide his surprise.

Damn, I’m good!

“Who are you?” He questioned again, his body rigid and coiled tighter than a spring ready to pop.

“Observant, and here’s my suggestion to solve both our problems,” I boldly suggested and took a step forward. “If you help me get back home, I’ll never mention again that you got bested by a girl half your size.”

He took another skeptical look at me but didn't instantly dismiss me. That was good, right?

“Where is your home?”

“Faroe Islands.”

“Where?”

“The Faroes?”

“In Egypt?!”

I couldn’t help but laugh. I, of course, knew of the pharaohs in Egypt, but I had never put it together with the rocky mountains of the Faroe Islands. Besides, the expression on his face was priceless!

“No! The Faroes!”, I answered this time with a little more confidence and crossed my arms too. “As in sheep! It’s a group of islands southeast of Iceland.”

“Never heard of them,” he answered after a short pause. He probably thought I was lying and I really couldn’t blame him. My home was truly in the middle of nowhere, and it was rare that ships came around. Usually, they were on their way to Iceland or Greenland or had just gotten lost.

“So you’re not going to help me?” I huffed, disappointed. But then again, he wasn’t obliged to help me anyway. And the way I saw it, he had enough of his own problems---!

“I didn’t say that,” he continued to my surprise, with a calm and firm voice. I looked up and something in his expression had changed. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but it looked like he’d made up his mind. That he wasn’t going to leave a woman alone in the woods.

A gentleman...

“I’ll help you, but first I need to find my men and get back home.”