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Chapter 8

Oskar woke slowly. He blinked his eyes open blearily, and the dingy little room came slowly into focus. He bolted upright. Damn it! He'd fallen asleep! He was supposed to be on guard.

He'd dozed off with his head at a funny angle and now a radiating pain slipped down one side of his neck and had him moving his head from side to side to try and work it free.

Serves you right, he told himself. Some guard you make.

What had he been thinking? He'd vowed to keep Lily safe hadn't he? How could he do that if he was asleep?

He stretched his arms over his head, blinked a few times to clear the clinging grogginess, then looked over at the bed. Lily was still asleep. She was lying on her side facing him, her hair flung out behind her. She looked peaceful, not a line nor a care marring her features. She had drooled on the pillow mind you, and she was snoring softly. Oskar smiled as a sudden flood of warmth went through him.

She was so strange, this lass from the future. She spoke her mind, wasn't afraid to stand up to him, and oscillated between acting like a highborn lady and a tavern wench. Aye, she was a strange one all right. Strange and unsettling and yet also warm and full of vitality, like she intended to take life by the scruff of the neck and force it to her will. She was imperfect and flawed, just like him, but there was a raw authenticity about her that drew him in. She had revealed a little of herself last night but not enough. Oskar found himself wanting to know more.

Ah, will you listen to yourself?he thought sourly. Stop acting the fool and remember your mission!

The room was slowly filling with the soft light of dawn and the sounds of the village seeped in through the cracks in the walls. Oskar could hear the distant hum of conversation and the melody of chirping birds intermingled with the rhythmic tapping of a blacksmith's hammer against an anvil.

A strange longing went through him at the sound of it. Once, so long ago that it felt like another life, Oskar had dreamed of being a blacksmith. There had been a smithy at the end of the filthy street where he lived with his mother and he'd spent hours there as a boy watching the sparks fly as swords and armor took shape under skilled hands. The sound reminded him of simpler days, before his life had taken the turns that it had.

Shaking his head at his own foolish sentimentality, he got up from the bench and made his way across the room, careful not to disturb Lily's slumber. The worn floor creaked beneath his weight as he approached the window and opened the shutter a crack, just enough to look out.

He blinked at the scene that greeted his eyes. A blanket of powdery snow covered everything in sight, softening the edges of roofs and fences, giving an ethereal glow to the landscape.

"Oskar?"

Lily was sitting up in bed, rubbing her eyes.

"My apologies, lass," he rumbled. "I didnae mean to wake ye."

"You didn't. What time is it?"

"Perhaps an hour past dawn."

She yawned hugely, stretching her arms over her head. "You know, I slept better than I thought I would although this blanket itches like crazy."

She threw the blanket aside, hopped out of bed, and came over to join Oskar by the window. He swallowed uncomfortably. She was wearing next to nothing. Her top half was covered only by a thin vest that clung to the curves of her hips and breasts and her bottom half was covered only by her undergarments—if the flimsy things could be called garments at all—leaving her smooth legs bare.

Heat flooded through him, pooling in his stomach, and sending an embarrassing tingle right to his groin. He quickly looked away. Dear Lord, what was she trying to do to him? Was she even aware that she was half-naked? Was this kind of dress acceptable in the twenty-first century?

Oskar cleared his throat, the sound coming out more strangled than he intended.

Lily peeked out through the gap in the shutters then gasped in delight. "Oh my!" she cried. "It's snowed! Oh, how beautiful!"

She pulled the shutters wide, flooding the room with light, and gazed out at the pristine white scene before them.

"Beautiful?" Oskar said. "Hardly that. It's a pain in the arse is what it is. It'll slow us down immeasurably."

She frowned at him. "Killjoy." She shivered, rubbing her arms. "Although it is a bit chilly."

Stepping away from the window, Oskar carefully closed the shutters to keep out the icy draft. Without a word, he moved to the fireplace and stoked the fire, adding more logs until the flames roared to life, filling the room with warmth. The crackling fire danced and flickered, casting a golden glow across the worn walls.

Lily's eyes followed Oskar's every movement as she settled back onto the bed, wrapping the blanket around herself to ward off the lingering chill.

"Did you get any sleep?" she asked.

He shrugged. "A little." He rose to his feet. "I have to go out. If we're going to travel in this weather, we're going to need proper supplies."

He strode to the door, pulling the bench out of the way and pausing with his hand on the handle. "Lock this behind me," he said. "Dinna open it for anyone but me."

She nodded. "All right. And Oskar? Don't be gone long, will you?"

He felt his expression soften. "I'll be back before ye know it."

He left, closing the door softly behind him, and made his way through the inn and out into the cold morning air, a cloud of white mist escaping his lips as he exhaled. The snow crunched under his boots as he walked through the village. It was as if the world had been hushed by the snowfall, sounds muffled and distant, leaving only a serene stillness in its wake and making even this squalid little place seem like something out of a child's tale.

But there were still chores to be done and they couldn't wait on the weather. A woman was busy breaking the ice on a bucket of water by her door. Another was sweeping away the snow from her doorstep with a broom, sending sprays of white powder into the air, whilst men bundled up in thick cloaks hurried through the streets on errands.

Oskar's eyes darted about suspiciously as he walked. Were any of these people in league with Alfred Brewer and his associates? Were any of them involved in the man's rescue? Unlikely. None of them looked like the kind of conspirators involved in such an operation, they looked ragged and half-starved, hiding up here because they had no other choice. Yet, appearances could be deceptive. How many times had he learned that lesson?

He pulled his cloak tighter about him and trudged on. His thoughts drifted to Emeric and Magnus. How were they faring without him? Had they managed to catch up with Alfred and Alice yet? And what would happen when they did? If anything should befall his sword-brothers...

He shook his head, flinging away the thought. Magnus and Emeric were more than capable of taking care of themselves and he had his own task to accomplish.

Up ahead, a group of children caught his attention. They had formed two teams, each armed with snowballs and were engaged in a spirited snowball fight. Their rosy cheeks were flushed from exertion and the cold, and their eyes sparkled with mischief.

One young boy, his scarf wrapped snugly around his neck, took aim and launched a perfectly formed snowball towards his opponent. The girl on the receiving end squealed in laughter as it hit her square in the face, sending a spray of snow cascading over her. The other children burst into peals of laughter, the sound of it echoing through the quiet village.

He scowled and walked on but hadn't gone more than three paces when he felt a dull impact between his shoulder blades followed by a shot of cold. He slewed around to find the children facing him, frozen with fright, one young lad's arm still raised.

"Sorry, mister!" he called.

Oskar glowered at them, saying not a word. The children's nerve broke and they scattered, quickly disappearing amongst the houses.

Oskar sighed and moved on. The air was filled with the aroma of wood smoke as he approached a house near the outskirts of the village. It stood apart from the others, its boards timeworn, its thatch sagging under the weight of snow.

Oskar raised his hand and knocked on the door. The sound reverberated through the quiet street as he waited patiently for a response. The door creaked open and a man with a face like tanned leather peered out at him, squinting against the brightness.

"Finally!" he barked. "I wondered when ye were going to turn up!"

"Hamish," Oskar said in greeting.

"Well, come in then!" Hamish said, stepping aside. "Ye are letting in the cold!"

Oskar kicked the snow from his boots and stepped inside, his cloak and clothes dripping little puddles onto the flagstone floor. The interior of the house hadn't changed at all since the last time Oskar was here. It was still scrupulously clean, with a freshly swept hearth, a neatly made bed, and all of Hamish's meager possessions either sitting on one of the shelves built against the wall or hanging from hooks in the ceiling.

"Drink?" Hamish asked, hobbling to one of the shelves and pouring whisky into a pottery beaker.

"Not for me," Oskar replied. "It's a little early."

Hamish shrugged. "Suit yerself." He downed his whisky in one go and then fixed Oskar with a curious stare. "So, what is this news I hear of ye bringing a lady to our humble village?"

"I dinna remember that being any of yer business, Hamish," Oskar snapped.

Hamish laughed, a hacking noise that rattled deep in his lungs. Hamish was not that old, Oskar knew, but he was as creased and weathered as a well-worn saddle, testament to a life hard-lived. For all that though, he was shrewd and wily, and Oskar had no doubt he'd already received a full report of his arrival with Lily yesterday.

"All right, all right, dinna get yer beeches in a knot," Hamish said. He slumped down onto a crude wooden bench by the fire and indicated for Oskar to take the other. "What can I do for ye?"

Oskar remained standing. "I need a horse. I can pay."

Hamish's brows rose and he poured himself another dram of whisky. "Ye can pay, can ye? That's a fact I wouldnae broadcast around here unless ye want to find yerself suddenly face down in the snow with yer throat cut. But even if ye were carrying a king's ransom in that purse of yers ye still wouldnae be able to buy a horse. There are no horses to be had for miles around."

Oskar scowled at this news. God's teeth! This was just what he didn't need. Walking to Edinburgh through the snow was not his idea of fun and he'd hoped to be able to at least purchase some sway-backed old nag that could carry him and Lily.

"Fine," he said. "Then I'll need supplies. Food that I can carry and winter garments—one set for a woman."

"Ah! So it's true!" Hamish grinned. "Ye do have a woman! A right pretty one from what I hear!"

Oskar opened his mouth to tell Hamish that Lily was not his woman, then thought better of it. Perhaps it wouldn't do any harm for these people to think that Lily was his. They might be more inclined to keep away from her that way.

"Can ye get me what I need or not?"

Hamish spread his hands. "I can, but it will cost ye."

"Doesnae it always?"

A rapid negotiation followed in which Oskar was sure he'd been thoroughly swindled, but he didn't have the patience nor the inclination to argue. He handed over the coins and Hamish went out, telling Oskar to wait. He returned maybe half an hour later, carrying two large bundles under his arms.

"Winter garments for two," he announced, handing the bundles over. "The best that money can buy. Well, the best ye are likely to get around here anyways."

The material that wrapped the bundles was thick and of a fine weave. Oskar didn't bother to ask where the clothing had come from. He didn't want to know. These people were reivers, after all.

"I'll have the food packed and brought to the inn shortly," Hamish continued. "A pleasure doing business with ye, as always."

Oskar grunted in acknowledgement, turned to the door, and left. Outside, the wind had picked up, sending flurries of snow swirling from the laden rooftops and biting at his face with sharp little teeth. He hurried back to the inn.

He froze in the corridor outside Lily's room as he heard voices coming from inside. His heartbeat quickened. Dropping his bundles, he burst through the door, only to come to a halt as Lily and Alan, the innkeeper, looked up in surprise from where they were sitting at the little table in front of the fire. They had plates of half-eaten food in front of them.

"What are ye doing?" he demanded.

Lily gestured with the piece of toasted bannock she was holding. "What's it look like? Having breakfast, obviously. Sorry we didn't wait for you but Alan here brought it to the room and it seemed such a waste to let it go cold. Here, there are some boiled eggs and toast left. And you have to try this jam. Mildred makes it herself and it's delicious!"

Oskar looked from Lily to Alan. The innkeeper's face paled and he climbed to his feet. "I...um...I'd best be getting on," he stammered. "I'll leave ye to it, miss."

"But you haven't finished your porridge!" Lily protested.

"That's all right," Alan said quickly. "I'm not hungry anyway and there's lots to do."

He edged around Oskar and hurried to the door. Oskar glared at him until the door shut firmly behind him. Then he turned to Lily.

"Ye were having breakfast with him?"

"Yes. What's wrong with that?"

"Didnae I tell ye not to open the door to anyone but me?"

She swallowed her piece of toast. "This is Alan's inn. I couldn't very well refuse to let him in, could I? Besides, I like him. He's nice."

"Nice?" Oskar exploded. "Nice? He was likely trying to get information out of ye or trying to figure out the best way to rob ye!"

"Don't be so ridiculous! He's just a kind old man!"

Oskar put his hands on his hips, glaring at her. How could she be so stupid? Had she learned nothing from Alfred Brewer? "God's blood, woman, in case ye hadnae noticed, this isnae some jolly country jaunt we are on!"

Lily studied him. "You don't trust easily, do you?" she asked quietly.

He opened his mouth to retort then snapped it closed. Trust? Trust was for fools. Trust was the thing that would get a knife in your back. He could count on the fingers of one hand how many people he truly trusted.

Instead of answering her question he picked up the bundles he'd dropped and held one out to her. "Here. Some warmer clothing."

She rose to her feet and came over to him. She took the bundle and untied it, revealing a long, thick woolen dress in a deep green with a thick, hooded cloak of a shade lighter to go over the top. The material was of a fine weave, far finer than anyone on this village was likely to able to afford. Perhaps it had once belonged to some noblewoman.

Lily ran her finger across the material. "Is this where you've been?" she asked. "Getting us some fresh clothes?"

"Aye," he said with a nod. "And other supplies. We still have a ways to go to reach Edinburgh and this snow is going to make the going difficult. I had hoped to purchase a horse but it seems they are fresh out of horses around here." He shrugged. "I'm afraid we're going to have to walk."

"Wonderful," she breathed. "What about you?"

He showed her his own bundle. "I just hope Hamish hasnae seen fit to give me a jester's costume. I wouldnae put it past him."

Lily laughed. "Now that, I would like to see!"

Oskar smiled despite himself and the two of them looked at each other. Silence fell, punctuated only by the crackling of the fire.

Oskar coughed. "Right. Then I guess we'd better get changed."

"Yes, I suppose we'd better." Lily looked around. "Um, would you mind turning around?"

"Aye." A little flustered, Oskar turned his back. He untied the bundle Hamish had given him to reveal a quilted tunic in a deep scarlet and a long black cloak to go over the top. It was more garish than Oskar would have chosen but at least Hamish had decided not to give him garments that would make him look like the village idiot.

He unwrapped his plaid and let it drop to the floor then pulled his linen shirt off over his head. The cool air played across his exposed skin and he was suddenly all too aware that Lily was undressing not ten paces from where he stood.

This was most definitely not proper. He should not be in a lady's bedroom while she changed and he most definitely should not be wanting to peek at her the way he was. The impulse was so strong that he could hardly resist it.

Cursing himself, he strode to the table and poured cold water into the basin from the jug that stood there. Taking a deep breath, he dipped in the wash cloth and gave himself a thorough dousing, grimacing against the icy touch of the water.

When he was done, he dropped the cloth back into the basin then ran his hand over the stubble that covered his chin. It was getting itchy and irritating. He couldn't remember the last time he'd shaved. Certainly before they'd set out on this cursed mission. He drew his belt knife and leaned over the basin, preparing to use the water as a mirror. He was just about to begin scraping the knife across his cheek when a sudden reflection in the blade's surface caught his eye and he froze.

It was Lily. She had her back to him and had shrugged out of the flimsy garment she'd been wearing on her top half, revealing her bare back. Her dark hair, now free of its braid, fell down her back in luscious waves, in contrast to her pale skin.

Oskar couldn't help staring at the smoothness of her shoulders and the bumpy line of her spine that trailed down to her narrow waist. What would it feel like to run his fingers down that skin? To feel that silken hair trailing through his grasp?

She pulled her hair forward over her shoulder and he noticed something else. Whilst the rest of the skin on her back was smooth and supple, there was a thin line of ridged tissue that ran right next to her spine, almost from her neck to her waist. It stood out like a pale ribbon and was not ragged like the scar from some wound, but neat and clinical.

Oskar swallowed, shame rushing through him like hot bile. What was he doing spying on her like this? What kind of letch was he? He stepped away from the bowl, all thoughts of shaving forgotten, and sheathed his knife. Deliberately staring at the wall, he pulled a clean linen shirt over his head and began to don the clothes that Hamish had given him.

"How long will it take us to reach Edinburgh?" Lily asked suddenly, startling him out of his thoughts. "We'll get there today, right?"

There was a note of worry in her voice that made Oskar's stomach knot. He wished he could give her the reassurance she needed.

"I dinna know," he replied. "It's still a long ways off. If it were summer and the weather was clear then aye, possibly. As it is, with the snow and maybe more on the way, I canna be sure."

She sighed. "I was afraid you were going to say that." He could hear the rustling of her clothing as she dressed and he steadfastly stared at the wall, pulling on the thick, quilted tunic and then tying the cloak over the top.

"We may be lucky," he said, trying to give her some hope. "Perhaps the weather will clear or perhaps we'll be able to purchase a horse along the way." He didn't hold out much hope of either.

"Maybe," she said dubiously. "Right, I'm ready. Are you decent?"

"Aye, lass."

"Okay. How do I look?"

He turned around and started in shock. The sight of Lily in the green dress and cloak made his mouth go dry. The dress hugged her figure perfectly and accentuated her coloring, her long dark hair standing out vividly against the green.

"Well?" she prompted. "Will I pass for a medieval lady?"

Pass? Dear Lord, she'd have every head turning to follow her as she walked by.

"Aye," he said gruffly. "Ye will do."

She gave him a flat look. "Flattery will get you nowhere." She appraised him critically, head cocked to one side. "I think I like that color on you. It makes you look dignified."

Oskar scowled. "Now ye are making fun of me." He didn't like his new clothes at all. They made him look too much like a nobleman for his liking and he'd always had an intense dislike of noblemen. But at least they were warm.

Lily widened her eyes in mock surprise. "Making fun of you? I wouldn't dream of it." She looked down at her old clothes which she'd folded into a pile. "What should I do with these?"

"Leave them. Ye willnae be wearing them again while ye are here. They make ye too conspicuous. In Edinburgh we will need to blend in."

She hesitated a moment before nodding. "If you say so."

"I do say so. Now, are ye ready? We need to get moving."

"Aren't you going to have any breakfast?"

"I'm not hungry. Come on."

Lily picked up her bag and followed him from the room.

In the common room they found Hamish waiting for them, in conversation with Alan. Both men fell silent when Oskar and Lily walked in. Oskar narrowed his eyes. He didn't like that. What had they been talking about? Were they planning something? He shook himself. Was he being suspicious again?

Hamish broke into a gap-toothed grin. "Ah! There ye are!" He hobbled over to them and eyed Lily up and down in a way that made Oskar want to thump him. "Delighted to meet ye, my dear. I'm sorry we havenae been introduced. I'm Hamish."

"Hamish? A good solid Scottish name if ever I heard one," Lily said.

"Aye," Hamish laughed. "As solid as an old oak tree, just like me. And ye are?"

"My companion," Oskar growled, before Lily could reply. "And that's enough for ye to know."

She scowled at him. "Forgive Oskar," she said, stepping around him. "He's not at his best in the mornings. I'm Lily Jones. Delighted to meet you."

"Jones, eh?" Hamish said. "A good old Welsh name if ever I heard one."

Lily laughed. "Yes, you've got me there. My family comes from near Swansea."

Oskar threw up his hands. Bloody hell! Was she going to share her life story with the old man next? Didn't she have the sense of a bairn?

"Did ye get us the supplies I requested?" Oskar snapped before the conversation could go any further.

Hamish's bright eyes fixed on him. "Of course I did! Here ye are, lad." He pointed to a rough sack sitting on one of the tables. "That will get ye where ye are going I'm sure. Plenty enough for two as long as yer journey doesnae last more than a few days." He raised his brows, obviously wondering if Oskar was going to elaborate on where they were going and why. He wasn't.

"My thanks," he said, before Lily could reveal any more than she already had. "We'll be on our way."

He hoisted the sack onto his shoulder then took Lily's bag from her and hoisted it onto the other one. She looked a little surprised but after the scar he'd seen this morning he didn't want her carrying more than necessary. If she did, she would only slow them down and they needed to move as quickly as possible today.

He nodded to Hamish and Alan, then indicated for Lily to precede him to the door. She bid farewell to the two men and then went out into the dooryard.

It was blindingly bright outside. The snow sparkled all around them and the sky was white from end to end, threatening more snow to come. Oskar stifled a growl. Wonderful. That was all they needed. Could anything else go wrong on this mission?

"This way," he said gruffly and stomped off in the direction of the road.

Lily kept pace with him and he could see her looking around at the white landscape, her eyes shining. She smiled as one small child came zooming past them on his backside, being pulled by a yipping yellow dog.

Oskar didn't share her delight. He kept watch as they walked, marking the eyes that followed them, and the discreet looks aimed in their direction. Looking back, he saw Hamish and the innkeeper standing in the doorway watching them leave. He loosened his sword in its scabbard.

They made it through the village to the road and turned south again, taking the trail that led along the top of the escarpment. It was windier up here and colder too, but the wind had whipped away most of the snow, making the going easier, although they both sank into their ankles with every step. Not for the first time, Oskar was glad of his stout boots. He glanced at the sky, marking the clouds that were gathering behind them. Up ahead, though, the clouds were beginning to break, giving glances of bright blue behind. If fate was smiling on them, they might just make it to Edinburgh today after all.

If fate is smiling on me, he thought sourly. Huh. That would be a first.

Pulling his cloak tighter about himself, he trudged on.

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