Chapter 6

It started raining.

This gave the woman pause to stop and wrap a heavy woolen hood around her head. Watching her, Malcolm blinked.

She had the perfect disguise, no wonder Malcolm was suspicious! Her dark eyes narrowed, as she spied him through the shaded vennel. He returned her stare, double. But instead of backing off, like any normal person would, she redoubled her efforts, gazing at him with open hostility.

Mal"s fingers wrapped tighter around his sgian dubh.The last ten years had taught him a lot about people; and none of it was good. Ready to defend himself, Mal glared.

Really, he hoped she would just go and leave him in peace. After ten years on a boat, he was ready to be on his own for a bit. There was an arduous journey to undertake. His mind was flashing with people and plans. He did not have time for raggle-taggle beggar maids in dirty alleyways.

But to Malcolm"s dismay, the woman was not budging. In fact, she had slowed down, and was now obscuring his path.

His fingers pressed tight on his knife, Malcolm stepped forward. "Excuse me, miss," he said, in assertive tones. The lass looked up. At this point, he was still polite. He would give her one chance to get out of the way.

But the woman just stopped. Pulling the woolen shawl around her head, she simply shook her head, standing in front of him in a provocative stance.

"Nae," she said, to Malcolm"s great annoyance. With a deep sigh, he tried again. She was probably a prostitute, trying her luck with the sailors on the docks.

"Miss, yer in my way," he said, less politely. Still, he did not push her. Not yet, but his thoughts were beginning to clamor in his head. "I do nae want yer services!"

He needed to get out of here. He had a horse to hire, and lands to reclaim. The last thing he could risk was an encounter with some strumpet-thief. More than likely she had a knife, and had seen him getting off the laden ship.

With a quantity of gold and coin, Malcolm was anxious to get away from her. Fast.

She was not moving. Malcolm picked up speed, surging forwards, he planned to push past the stationery woman. Just at the moment he brushed past her, she made him leap.

"What"s yer name?"

The question disarmed him. He had been expecting a knife, not an interrogation. His hackles up, Malcolm gathered himself.

"Let me pass," he said, coldly. This time he did shove her, just a fraction, out of the way. Trying to get past, he pushed her, roughly, against the wall But she did not stop.

In a trice, the girl was straight back beside him, this time wearing an expression of stone.

"I said, what is yer name?" she said, repeating each word slowly. She was not budging. But neither was he.

This time, the woman really got in his face. He could see her eyes sparkling, in the semi light of the passageway. Even so, there was little else he could make of her features, beneath her heavy scarf.

Malcolm backed away from her. He was about to push her back, when she startled him.

"Malcolm," she said, crisply. Malcolm froze. Immediately, he turned to look. "Yer name"s Malcolm, isnae it?"

Malcolm stopped in his tracks. He did not know who this woman was, but now he was troubled.

"Who wants to ken?" he asked, pulling close to her head. The woman did not flinch, although she did not come any closer. Recognition glinted in her dark eyes.

Malcolm"s heart skipped a beat. Earlier that day he had imagined a face like this. Similar in shape and outline... but it could not be. Telling himself it could not be, he faced the woman stiffly.

"I dinnae ken who ye are," he said, gazing at her."But I demand to ken!" The dark eyes glistened oddly. Was she laughing at him?

"Who sent ye? Was it Bruce?" Malcolm spun around, to confront the woman, but she swerved, getting ahead again.

"Ye are Malcolm, aren"t ye?" the lass said, her voice low and dangerous. Malcolm flinched. He fully expected a blade at his throat. Clearly his brother had sent her, he thought. And he was not going to wait for her to get her blow in first.

"I dinnae answer questions, I ask them, darling," he said, grabbing her by the shoulder. Now he had her in a lock. For the first time, the tables were turning. Keeping her pressed against the wall, he came closer. Close enough to hear her breathing.

"So tell me noo, lassie, who are ye working for? Bruce? The McIvers? Who, who sent ye?"

The woman threw her head back and laughed. But she did not answer.

"So ye willnae tell me yer name, well nae fash, I ken ye," she said, infuriatingly.

Annoyed, Malcolm wanted nothing more than to get away. He was sure Bruce had sent her, but his curiosity had piqued. He needed to know for sure.

"Hoo do ye ken me?" he asked, squinting at her face. It was hard to see in the shaded alley, and the heavy hood wrapped over her eyes did not help. Glancing up, Malcolm saw the heavy skies. A combination of rain, and oncoming nightfall meant it was darkening, now.

A tinge of disappointment came into Malcolm. He had hoped to ride tonight. To reach the clan, and maybe even confront his brother.

But judging by the skies, none of that was going to be possible. The woman just laughed.

His temper rising, Malcolm grabbed her by the shoulder.

"I asked ye a question. I said hoo did ye ken me. I dinnae ken ye... so tell me, mistress, who are ye, an" who do ye work for?"

A pause, as recognition darted through the woman"s shaded face. But Malcolm had run out of patience. The woman was laughing at him, and he had simply had enough.

He turned to walk away, but in doing so, attracted her ire.

"Dinnae ye walk awa"!" hurled the woman, livid. He could tell she was angry, just from her hands, which rattled and shook, as she clutched at her kirtle. "Dinnae ye walk awa fro me, Malcolm Duncan!"

She pushed him, then smack! The lass"s hand connected with his face - hard!

Stung, Malcolm recoiled. The sharpness of the slap reverberated all over him. But the lass was not sated. In fact, it looked as if she had only just got started.

"I said, dinnae...!" the fierceness in her eyes leaped out at him. She reached to slap him again, but Malcolm was too fast for her. Grabbing her with both his hands, he rammed her against the vennel wall. Holding her tight, he pressed her head.

"Nae lassie, yer dinnae get to give the orders, noo, who about ye answer some o" my questions, so come on, who are ye, an" were ye sent by the laird?"