Page 22 of Highlander’s Sloth

“Good night, Wife,” Callum said.

They woke with the birds, and for one moment, both husband and wife were tempted to pull the blankets over their heads.

“Och,” Kirsty moaned, “I’d forgotten how beastly waking up outdoors can be.”

It was Callum’s first experience doing so, and he had to agree with Kirsty.

“I think I’ll take some o’ the gold I make from this deal and build an inn here. ‘Tis a wee bit late for us, but I would take comfort in the fact that no one else would be forced to do this.”

Kirsty disappeared to the stream and came back looking decidedly more awake. She was impressed to see that Callum had used the time to rebuild the fire. She set the kettle to boil for porridge while he went to the stream. On closer inspection, Kirsty saw the water was not enough to make them a good pot of oats, so she went to the stream to fetch more.

At the water’s edge, she was greeted by the sight of her naked husband wading out amidst the reeds, bending down to splash his face and wipe away the last of his sleep. She watched quietly for a while, the kettle held forgotten in her hand, as the rising sun turned his body golden and made the water droplets running down his chest sparkle as though they were made from mead.

“Will ye hand me the shirt, lass?”

She startled and then went to fetch him his shirt. When she leaned over the riverbank and passed it to him, he pulled the garment over his head and rose up out of the water. Kirsty trotted back to her fire, a little confused that she felt all hot and bothered over what she had seen. He was her husband, for goodness’ sake. She should be able to watch as much of him as she felt like without it making her feel like a schoolroom miss!

When Callum came back to their camp, he was dressed for riding and said to Kirsty, “Will ye no’ take a dip, milady? The water’s very fine.”

Kirsty shook her head firmly, saying, “If it’s all the same with ye, Cal, I’ll wait ‘til we reach Northumberland afore I remove all me clothes.”

He gave her a challenging look. “I tell ye what. After breaking fast, I’ll race ye to the next crossroads. If I win, ye jump into the next stream with me. But if ye win, ye can choose whatever prize ye like.”

She gave the wager consideration. “To make up for yer horse’s wider stride, ye’ll have to carry all the gear, and I get to choose the course. What say ye to that?”

He was so sure of his success, Callum did not even bother to find out the course Kirsty intended for the race before agreeing to her terms. It was a crucial error. After she loaded his stallion with all the gear and mounted her sturdy little pony, she said, “Right, first one to reach the top of that hill is the winner,” and on those words, she dug her heels into the small animal’s sides and shot off.

Callum was aware of a strong sense of injustice but had no opportunity to make a complaint. He tried to follow Kirsty’s trail, but the highly nervous thoroughbred stallion would only mince up the steep incline, balking at fallen trees crossing its path and shying away from boulder outcrops. He did not even bother trying to reach the summit; a much chastened Callum gave up halfway, reined the stallion in, and made his way back down to their camp. He had no choice but to greet his wife’s return with good grace and a rueful smile when she brought her prancing pony back to camp.

“Ye tricked me, ye wee minx,” he said.

She grinned and nodded. He watched as the action made her curls bob and bounce like a golden mane; it was quite entrancing. However, Callum was not ready to concede so easily.

“Aye, I fell for yer wee caper, Kirsty, but ye have nae convinced me a woman can hold her own in all things against men. What about hunting, sword fighting, and running?”

Kirsty pouted. “I cannae believe ye still have yer doubts, Cal! How would ye feel if I were to challenge ye to sew or spin?”

Callum objected, “Ye’re the one who’s saying ye can beat me in all things, not I.”

Kirsty whisked her skirts with an impatient gesture. “Fine! But may I remind ye, Cal, that I am no’ saying I’m better than all men at certain things, only that I am better than ye!” She went to her saddlebag and withdrew two lengths of thin cord. “I keep these by me for emergencies, and they will suffice.” She handed Callum one of the cords. “First one to catch something for us to eat for supper tonight, wins!”

As much as her husband doubted his ability to capture an animal using only a length of string, he doubted Kirsty’s ability more.

“Done!” Callum said, and before she could say the word, he had dashed into the undergrowth to search for roosting pheasant hens.

Kirsty watched him run with a satisfied grin on her face, and when Callum had disappeared from view, she mounted her pony and trotted back down the road they had traveled over the previous day. When she reached a field of ripe, waving wheat, she dismounted.

Quietly, she crept into the tall stalks and set her trap. It was only a matter of minutes when the sound of rustling alerted her to the tightening of the noose knot. With a businesslike air, Kirsty wrung the grouse’s neck and rode back to camp with the bird tied to her saddle.

She almost fell asleep while waiting for Callum to come back, and when he did, it was with empty hands. He took one look at the small grouse hanging from the tree branch next to the bower where they had slept the night before and said, “Och, tell me what prize ye want and be done with it.”

Kirsty smiled. “Cal, the look on yer face is the only reward I want.”