Author's Note: Sorry this took so long, had to take a break for a while. Also: I know I said my last story would be the last one with lots of story and no sex but... I lied. This one is important for plot though. Chapter 9 is perverted, I promise.
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Chapter 8
As a breeder of horses, Leda had never thought much of Horace. He was skinny - shabby even - but as she riding through the woods, she suddenly understood his appeal. He was fast and agile, and seemed to understand what she needed from him without much kicking or tugging. She had always assumed Brandon was a very talented rider, but perhaps he had just picked the right partner.
When the sun crested over the horizon, Leda dismounted and lead Horace to the river. As he drank, she noticed a few hoof prints, as well as what looked like a footprint sliding down the bank. She was on someone's path. From the tracks she could tell that one of the horses they were riding was large and erratic and that there were more men than mounts. One of the men was always in step behind another.
Brandon would have told her not to make assumptions. She may have wanted this to be Beast, Brandon and a kidnapped Alec, so she was only seeing what conformed to her theory. But Leda ignored this. She wished she could be objective, but once she saw the prints, she couldn't see anything else. She followed them.
After two days of riding Leda accepted she was lost. A heavy rain had washed away the tracks, and her food had dwindled down to few apples. She was wet and hungry and tired and she was angry at herself for assuming she was good at tracking just because rangers talked to her about it sometimes. The best thing she could do for Brandon now was turn around, take care of herself and his horse. But as she went to sleep she knew that in the morning, she would keep looking for him.
Why was she looking for him? What was it that she even needed to say? That she loved him? That she wanted to have his children after all? That she was sorry for allowing herself to be seduced by Rob?
But she didn't want children, and she wasn't sorry for what happened with Rob. Rob made her feel free and unburdened, in a way she hadn't experienced since she was a girl. There were other things she didn't regret; his arms lifting her out of the water, his calloused hands exploring breasts, his warmth of his mouth against her most sensitive flesh. Even if she never saw Rob again, she knew that simply revisiting that memory would always bring her pleasure. She had been told as a child that highlanders were all beasts - brutish and irresponsible and hot blooded. Highlanders weren't thoughtful or logical, she was told, they only relied on their animal instincts and magnetism.
It wasn't true, of course but... what had happened between Rob and her had felt animal. And she liked it.
But she also wanted Brandon. Brandon who always made her feel the weight of the world on her shoulders. Brandon who always thought of the future, never the moment. Brandon who knew about her past, about Gerald, about why she decided to become a trader. Also, Brandon was an Outlander. He understood what had been done to her, and what she had done to survive it. And he had his own past.
Two totally different men, and yet... she wanted both of them.
Horace woke Leda up the next morning. She slept like the dead, but Horace heard the cart coming over the hills and whinnied. He really was an exceptionally good horse.
She sat up to see only a grey haze as the sun peaked through the early morning mist. She thought she was dreaming at first, but soon she heard the sounds of a horse and cart in the distance.
A sharp jolt of panic moved through her. She scurried up from the ground and found her knife. She wasn't very good with it, but it was better than nothing. Her heart beat wildly. She considered hiding, but it was too late. The cart groaned as it came towards her.
The low voice came through the woods.
"Whatever you're holding, put it away." It was a strange voice - raspy and laboured, as though it might crack at any moment.
It wasn't a cart, it was a covered caravan. Not a ranging party then. Just a few whores.
But instead of a man at the front of the cart, two women sat sharing the reins. They were both fine to look at. The younger girl had dark smooth skin, and wore a purple gown that embellished her lovely waist and which pushed up her breasts - between which Leda could just make out the polished hilt of a knife. Over her gown she wore an officer's coat, and her black curls were free and wild. The woman next to her was thin, and tall. She wore a man's trousers and a woman's blouse,. Her hair was long, straight and black. Her cheeks were cut like a classical statue in marble, and her skin tan, but covered in the most alluring freckles. When she saw Leda, she smiled like a smug cat.
"Those apples I see?"
"Take them," Leda said carefully. "It's all I have."
She dark haired woman stopped smiling. She knocked on her seat, and another woman emerged from the curtained cart. This one was tiny, with a strange mix of brown skin and fiery red hair. In her hands, she held a crossbow.
She aimed it at Leda.
Leda stood frozen before the cross bow. The dark haired woman came down from her seat at the front of the cart casually. She was perfectly calm and focused as she looked around the campsite. Finally she came up to Leda, feeling over her body for any hidden pockets. Leda tried to ignore the other woman's intrusive hands as she was patted down. The only thing she found was the knife at Leda's hip, and she took it.
The dark haired woman gestured and the little one dropped her bow. She then went to the cart and threw up the curtain, revealing two girls more lounging amongst a few sacks of grain - one white and freckled, the other brown and luminous. Their revealing gowns dipped low enough to show off their black marks.
So there was no man with them at all.
"Who are you?" Leda asked.
"Just a few girls on the road," the woman with the long black hair said, pulling back her blouse to show Leda the black mark on her chest. "Who are you?"
Leda said nothing, she only pulled back her shift and showed her the matching mark.
"Funny," the black haired woman turned to her companions, who smiled. "All of us being whores, you think we'd know each other."
"Different caravans, I suppose," Leda said with a shrug.
"You don't have a caravan," this time it was the woman in purple who spoke.
"You don't have a caravan leader," Leda said. "Where are your men?"
"One of our girls ran off with a solider. Our Caravan leader had to go find her, then bring her solider to the mines," the woman in purple leaned forward and met Leda's eyes. "Your turn."
"Same."
"You're lying," the little one lifted up her crossbow again, and Leda put her hands in front of her.
"Of course I am. We're all lying." Leda said. "And we don't need to. There are no men here."
