Garreth had risen earlier than most, not being able to sleep well. His head was filled with so many thoughts at once about the MacRae raid, the capture and trial of them, then the attraction to Lady Therese and knew he needed to sort it all out. Looking out the window of his room, he could see the morning fog blanketing the lowlands, while the wan, morning sun was breaking through higher up towards Ben Nevis. He pulled on his tunic, then folded and wrapped his kilt around his waist and slung the 'blanket' over his shoulder. Next came his leather belts holding his Claymore and various blades around him. He pulled on his soft, leather boots and tied them to his calves, then finally his sheepskin robe.
Quietly, he walked past Lady Therese's room and paused, inhaling the faint scent of her. A wanton smile broke across his mouth, as he continued down the stairs, out into the fresh air and on towards the stables He blanketed his horse, slipping in the bit and reins and mounted it, then rode out of the fort and headed east, not wanting to encroach on MacRae lands, only ten miles to the south.
The splendour of the majestic Beinn caught his attention and he rode off in that direction. The air was crisp and cool, the breaths from his horse and him, creating large puffs, as they exhaled into dawn's light. Finding a narrow pass in the river, he crossed to the north side and on up into the foothills.
An hour later, found Therese dressed in riding attire, walking towards the stables, when Douglas stopped her, still dressed in his morning robes.
"Where are you going Lady Therese, so early in the day?" he questioned her, wondering why she was going for a ride.
"I thought I would take a ride to help clear my thoughts, my Lord. I didn't sleep very well last night, all of these things that are happening and clouding my mind with them, but it seems the day is just as cloudy." Therese emoted in feminine distress. What she failed to include were the heated thoughts of Garreth she was having.
"Well, yes, I can understand, my dear. It is rather a great amount to deal with all at once. Do be careful though, there are those who don't care who you are and will accost you, or worse." Douglas warned her.
"I will be careful, my Lord. I shall not go far from the fort and I will stay to travelled roads, as well." Therese told him decidedly, curtseying slightly and turning to continue her way to the stables.
As she walked away, one of the guards informed him of Garreth leaving earlier for a ride.
Douglas watched her go and said nothing more, as he turned around and headed to the entrance, never looking back. Suspicion grew in him as he thought of the coincidence of it. Therese had one of the Earl's mares saddled and mounted her, feeling her gentle nature and willingness to respond to her. Trotting out to the gate, she tried to decide her route. Once again, the allure of the mighty Ben called out and she too headed off in that direction.
The River Nevis ran down from the mountain, curved along the foothills to the north and then wended its way west to empty into Loch Linnhe, just south of Inverlochy. Therese stayed to the south side and didn't cross over where Garreth had done earlier. The slowly winding road wound its way through wild, tree-lined pastures, reminding her faintly of fields back in France she once rode in. The foggy haze hung in the cooler areas she made her way through, causing her to lose sight of the road ahead in the blankness.
It was riding into a foggy area, which brought Therese face to face with those men, those that Douglas had warned her about. Two men jumped out from the cover they were hiding behind and stopped her, holding onto the reins of the mare to prevent her escape. With the ease of his strength, the large brutish looking one, pulled her from her mount, and held her to him. His unwashed stench sickened Therese and added in her struggle to free herself from him.
Knowing herself in trouble of violation, Therese screamed out in distress, beseeching anyone who heard, to come to her aid. The first man released the reins of the horse and joined his partner, wanting to share in the prize they had captured. Before Therese could release the air in her lungs to scream a third time, his hand clasped over her mouth and held her, while his other tore away her bonnet from her coiffed hair, allowing her inky, black tresses to spill down. With a swift release from the leather belt around his waist, the brutish one brandished a blade at her and tore open the front of her riding dress. Her bared breasts blushed from the shame and embarrassment at their exposure, the pale pink of her nipples brightening, as yellowed teeth sneered and lust filled eyes looked at her with lurid thoughts.
Far up the side of Nevis, perched on an outcropping, Garreth looked out over the land before him, taking in all that was the Highlands. For all the importance of why he was at the castle, Garreth's thoughts were dominated by Therese and how she made him feel. His mind played the scene repeatedly, where he had taken her in his hands and held her, looking into those emerald, green eyes, as she looked into his. His want of her frustrated him, that she was betrothed to the Earl, yet knowingly unhappy with him and he could see it.
While his mind drifted in any direction for a resolve, his ears picked up the sounds of distressed screaming far off in the distance, down in the glen. He scanned the general area he felt it came from, looking for signs of anything moving. Hearing the screaming again, he narrowed his focus to an area across the river from where he was. There between the trees, he could make out the movements of three people. The bright blue of one, suggested a woman was involved, while the other two larger figures in earthen tones, blending in with the background, suggested a male presence and one that wasn't of a pleasant social nature.
With all haste, Garreth mounted his horse and rode down the steep slope, as quick as his horse's legs could carry him. When the ground levelled, he pushed his horse into full gallop, heading straight for the trio of figures. Even from the far away distance, he could see that the woman was being violated, but couldn't make out any noticeable features as to whom. He pushed for his horse to give all speed, closing rapidly on the scene. As he came to the river, he quickly scanned for a place to cross, but found nothing that was easy. He rode back and turned around, breaking into a fast gallop. He bade his horse to span the river in a leap that would test its abilities and feeling the hooves make the other side, smiled to himself, as he continued riding his steed, as fast as he could push it.
He drew his sword, preparing to attack the moment he could, holding it tightly in his hand, as he readied his arm to swing. He gauged the scene, measuring the timing of his speed and attack. He brought his feet up onto the horse's back, as he broke into the glen, remaining in a crouch. When he was about twenty feet away, Garreth launched himself outwards, his sword high above his head. The speed of the horse was enough, that he flew through the distance, higher than a man standing, preparing for a two-handed blow to the man, who was trying to part the woman's legs in an effort to penetrate her.
As he held himself ready to take her, it was his last moment of cognisant awareness, to see the shadow looming in on him, before the blade of the Claymore began cracking through his skull and severing the back portion of his head away, blood spraying in the arc of the swing. His life force was snuffed immediately, as his body continued to fall with the force of the blow, hitting the ground and causing his brain to spill out of the confinement of bone.
Garreth twisted his body after the strike, so he landed on the ground rolling and then sprang up into an attack position as soon as he stopped. He looked at the man holding
the woman down and made for him. He covered the dozen feet in quick fashion, leaving the man no time to make a move in defence. He held his Claymore straight out in front, the point aimed for the man's chest, as the last few feet were closed. The tip entered and sliced through cloak and tunic, flesh and bone, driving the man off the woman and pinning him to the ground. Garreth drove the blade completely through and twisted the hilt in a quick turn, severing the heart and killing him instantly. He withdrew his sword, the sound of the organ being slashed, filling the silent air with the wet, sucking sounds of death.
Garreth looked about for any others who may still lie in wait for him, but feeling there were none, he lay his sword on the damp grass and knelt to the woman. She was curled in a fetal position, clutching what little was left of her pale, blue riding dress, to cover her shame. A thick mass of raven black hair covered her face, but Garreth could hear her jagged breaths, and see her sobbing heaves, as she cried from the terror.
"M'Lady, yer safe now. They'll harm ye no more." Garreth told her calmly, as he gently put a hand to her shoulder.
