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This is the standard disclaimer. They don't belong to me. This story is not intended to violate any copyrights held by Paramount, UPN, or Pet Fly Productions.
Thank you to my betas, Loopy and Spacepixell.
Author’s Notes: This story contains corporal punishment. Be warned.
The late afternoon sun dappled the small grove; its rays playing hide and seek among the gently swaying branches. Splotches of gold and amber speckled the undergrowth, creating a spider web effect on the grass and scrub. Slightly pungent smells of decaying leaves and rotting wood combined with the headier smell of apple wood and immature fruit. Bees hummed softly as they went about their work; birds and insects and other small creatures added their unique chirps and chattering to the outdoor melody. The taste and feel of mid summer clung to everything.
James stood alone among the trees. He’d meandered through the orchard on his way to the house after spending several hours fishing with Simon. A clan council was in the offing and he’d needed the relaxing afternoon with his friend to discuss strategies for the upcoming parley.
As a boy, he’d spent many an hour in this spot, allowing his fledging sentinel abilities to discover and explore his surroundings. He closed his eyes and soaked up this blissful slice of his beloved Highlands.
Images of his mother picking apples and placing them in a basket cradled on her elbow flashed through his mind; he and Stephen playing tag as she gently admonished them to have a care not to trip on the stumps and roots. James smiled as the memories washed over him.
Several minutes passed before he shook himself from his reverie. His smile grew as he realized he’d prevented himself from becoming lost in the sensory overload. And then he fingered the braided hair choker at his neck and he chuckled. Even though the wee monster was a mile away helping Henry with some chores, it was he, and not the sentinel, who’d kept him grounded.
James walked back through the grove toward the path that ran between the house and the stream. As he reached the edge, a gentle breeze startled the ferns along the path and sunlight glinted off something under the fronds, catching his eye. He squatted down on his haunches and pushed the fronds aside.
A grin split his face as he reached down and picked up Blair’s amulet. His fingers traced the likeness of the cait shee, thistles and knots that adorned the small fetish. He spotted what was left of the leather thong that had secured the charm. It was worn thin, and frayed to the point of breaking. James thought back to the day he’d slung the muddy and protesting youngster over his shoulder and hauled him along this very path to the stream. The strip of leather must have given out during the boy’s thrashing, sending the amulet flying. He’d have to fashion a sturdier lace for it, perhaps braided strips of leather or sinew.
Combined with a series of misunderstandings and impetuous behavior, Blair had taken the loss of the amulet as a bad omen, spurring him into the foolish act of running away.
James gripped the amulet tightly in his fist and held it to his chest. He sent a silent prayer to the goddess Blair entreated, whomever she might be, thanking her for watching over his guide until they’d met. Then he tucked the amulet in his sporran, and completed his trek to the house.
The great hall of the castle was crowded. Throngs of clan chieftains, along with their respective seconds and entourages, milled about. The galleries above were filled with onlookers, eagerly awaiting the arrival of the remaining chieftains as well the MacKenzie himself.
The Ellison’s arrived early in the afternoon and waited their turn to enter the hall. Blair bounced nervously and fidgeted endlessly. He wore the clan tartan and a freshly starched shirt along with a stiff, black, leather neck stock. His stockings refused to stay pulled to his knees and the plaid James had so meticulously positioned kept sliding off his shoulder. He protested his inclusion in the proceedings.
“I dinna understand why I canna just observe from the balcony,” he whined for the hundredth time. He scratched at his neck where the leather rubbed his skin and yanked fruitlessly at the stubborn plaid that was once again hanging at his elbow.
James tsk’d and tapped Blair’s cheeks patiently with his fingertips. “I’ve explained it to you, have I not? You’ll be expected to be there. The Mackenzie himself will make note if ye are not. ‘Tis an important council and I’ll need your wee scrawny carcass at my side if I’m to use my senses to their best.” He pulled the plaid up onto Blair’s shoulder and refastened it securely with the thistle brooch. He slapped Blair’s hand away from the stock. “You’ll not be expected to do or say annathing.” James stopped and placed his hands on his hips, pinning Blair with an ominous look. “In fact, it would be best if ye did not.” James pointed to Blair’s stockings. “Pull those back up, then, and fasten the garters more securely. Or must I do that for ye also?”
Blair rolled his eyes, but quickly bent down and did as he was told. When he straightened up again, James eyed him appraisingly. He reached out and rubbed a smudge of dirt from Blair’s cheek. He snatched a few strands of hair and two braids that had decided to break free from the ribbon they’d been tied back with and tucked them behind the lad’s ears.
James wrapped an arm around Blair’s shoulders and turned his guide toward the large oak doors that led to the hall as he heard the summons for the Ellison’s.
“Wheesht, now,” he warned the lad. “Behave yourself.” James dropped his arm and delivered a warning swat to Blair’s bottom.
William entered the hall first, with Stephen to his right. Henry and Rafe followed close behind, one to each man’s left.
James entered after his father; as clan Sentinel he held his own rank in the clan. Simon flanked James’ left. Blair was directly behind James, practically sharing the older man’s skin, within Simon’s protective range.
Sentinel and Guide became one as the sights, sounds and smells swimming through the hall threatened to overwhelm James’ senses. The highlander relaxed as he felt his wee monster’s trembling hand plant itself firmly in the center of his back, between his shoulder blades.
The representatives of the Ellison sept traversed the length of the hall. All heads turned to watch the latest arrivals make their way to their allotted places in the clan’s council alcove.
Five minutes later, Ronan MacKenzie entered the hall, along with his three brothers and their contingents. A short spate of greetings and posturing ensued and Ronan did indeed make note of the boy hiding behind James’ back. He’d heard about the sentinel’s guide and was eager to see the youngster for himself. James drew the unwilling boy in front of him, placing two strong, protective hands on Blair’s shoulders. Blair squared himself and tried not to squirm under the clan leader’s gaze. Ronan appraised the clan’s sentinel and his new guide. The pup met his eye full on and he grunted in approval. Ronan nodded a greeting to James, then took his seat and gestured to his clansmen to do the same.
And then the council began.
The council dragged on and on for hours. The discussions covered a multitude of topics, from grazing rights to insults and slights, both real and imagined, to intrigues and alliances with neighboring clans to the bother of the bloody British presence in the Highlands…
At times, dozens of loud, angry voices rose in unison, vying to be heard. The acoustics of the great hall did nothing to diminish the ear splitting din, and Blair steadfastly guided James in controlling the overpowering noise. More than once, James would boom out a loud warning when he ascertained deceit or contrivance.
Food and drink came and went during the proceedings. And at times, the overwhelming aromas of the food, along with the bodily odors of so many people in such close proximity, became almost too much for James. But Blair was there, close to his back, whispering reassurances, guiding his sentinel.
Onlookers also came and went throughout the long afternoon. At one point, Blair caught sight of several of his friends…Hugh and Duncan. Their fathers were at the council and Blair had wondered if the boys were about. When they were sure Blair was looking their way, the boys signaled and waved to him conspiratorially, motioning for him to join them.
Blair stood on his tiptoes, to peer over James’ shoulder and make out what the lads wanted. He shook his head, shrugged his shoulders and pointed to his ears, trying to indicate he couldn’t understand.
After fifteen minutes of the distracting fuss, James finally put a stop to it.
“Go,” he whispered to Blair. “Say hello to your friends, then, and see what mischief they’re up to.” He winked and then rubbed his eyes tiredly. “Tell them they’ll have to get into trouble without you.” He gave Blair a gentle shove, urging him toward his friends. “Dinna tarry, now. Say your hellos and hurry back.”
Blair smiled his thanks and scurried off across the hall, glancing back over his shoulder more than once to check on his sentinel.
“Look at you! Don’t you look grand, then?” Hugh laughed and prodded Blair. “And in the thick of things, too! What’re the old coots going on about?”
Blair laughed along with his friends as he batted at Hugh’s hands. “This jabot is killing me,” he answered. He stuck one finger under the offending piece of leather and pulled at it as he grimaced. “And I lost interest in what those codgers are going on about soon after they started in.”
“How much longer must ye stay, then?” Duncan inquired. “We’re off to Hugh’s camp. There’s storytelling and music and games.”
Blair glanced across the hall to where James sat. The sentinel was watching him, looking slightly impatient. He looked back at his friends with envy.
“I must stay until James leaves, and I’ve no idea how much longer it will be,” Blair answered wearily.
Hugh groaned. “They can go on like this for days. You’ll miss all the fun.”
Blair looked at him incredulously as he pondered the thought of spending days in the company of the arguing gaggle of boisterous highlanders while his friends were free to amuse themselves with all manner of foolery.
Duncan elbowed Hugh sharply in the ribs. “Pay him no mind, Blair. They’ll soon adjourn for the evening so they can drink, smoke and argue informally. You’ll join us then, aye?”
“Aye,” Blair answered enthusiastically. He could think of no reason why James would object. If there was drinking and smoking to be done at the evening’s goings-on, he was sure James would allow him nowhere near anyway.
He looked back across the hall once again just as James stood and turned toward him. The sentinel’s body language clearly stated the highlander was about to come for him. Not wanting to embarrass James by being fetched like a stray, Blair took off at a fast trot. James relaxed as he saw Blair coming toward him. He stretched his arms and scratched his torso as if he’d only meant to relieve cramped muscles. As Blair joined him, he sat back down heavily and sighed. Blair leaned in close to apologize for dallying, but James spoke first.
“They’re almost through for today. Ronan’s feeling none too well; his stomach is protesting the last helping of haggis he stuffed himself with.”
The words had no sooner left James’ mouth when Ronan stood and called a halt to the day’s council. He was not an imposing man in physical stature, but as head of the clan, his demeanor demanded and held the respect of his clansmen. Once he left, the chieftains and their followers broke into small groups and drifted off to continue arguments or begin drinking in earnest.
James waved off any invitations to join in and quickly took his leave of the hall with Simon and Blair in tow.
Blair waved his arms about as he stomped around the room, arguing his case.
“I behaved myself all day, just as you asked. It was boring and tedious and dull, but I didna complain, did I?” Blair glanced at James but didn’t wait for an answer. “I did as I should, didn’t I? I was attuned to your senses. I helped you concentrate. Master MacKenzie was pleased no end when you caught Ewan Ferguson in that preposterous boast…”
“Yes!” Jim interrupted loudly. “’Tis all true. You were the very model of a perfect guide and obedient underling.” He removed his sword belt and sporran and flung them on the bed. His eyes crinkled in amusement as he looked at Blair. “I had to listen to your heartbeat repeatedly, to assure myself the fairies had not spirited you away and left a changeling in your place.”
Blair stuck his tongue out and crossed his eyes. He plopped down on the bed heavily and began kicking at the wooden side rail with the heel of one foot.
“Then why can I not go?” he whined. “It would be for but a short time. A few songs, a game perhaps?”
“There’ll be time enough for merriment once the council has finished,” James reasoned. “It has been a long day and the MacKenzie wishes my father and I to join him for an early breakfast.”
“But I’ll not be expected to be with you, aye?” Blair asked anxiously.
“No, but I’ll still need you to be well rested and alert for tomorrow’s session.” James tousled Blair’s hair. “You’re to stay here the remainder of the night. Understood?” James crossed to the washbasin near the window and splashed cool water on his face. “I’ll be out for a bit yet. I’ll try not to be late.”
Blair’s blue eyes sparkled with a petulant glint. “What? Where are you going?”
He’d behaved all day. He’d kept quiet, as he’d been told, even though he’d had to bite his tongue more than once during some of the arguments. And now, while the evening was still young, he was being confined to his room, consigned to an early bedtime, missing out on whatever schemes Hugh and Duncan had contrived. And James was leaving. ‘How unfair is that’, he thought to himself.
James grew serious.
“I know full well you heard and understood more than you pretended to. Until I found you, I was like to go insane from the instability of my senses. I was ready to step down from my rank within the clan and crawl off to live my remaining days in a secluded cave. There are no few chieftains who were ready to vie for the rank I would have given up. They were none too pleased to learn I had a guide.”
“Aye,” Blair commented softly. “I did notice some unusual looks thrown my way.” He shrugged and looked at James sheepishly. “But I didna think much of it, as I often receive such looks.”
“Well, ‘twas more then just looks being bandied about. Threats were being made; idle or no I canna say for sure. But there are those who think if you disappeared it would be proved I shouldna retain my rank. I do not think anyone would be foolish enough to harm you, but I wouldna put kidnapping past a few of those scoundrels.”
Blair pulled a face and answered teasingly. “Och, James, don’t be daft.”
James was tired of having to explain to Blair.
“Well, then you’ll humor a daft highlander, young man.” James pointed a finger at him in warning.
Blair flung himself backward on the bed dramatically, upset that he’d lost his bid for a few hours of fun.
James pointed to the door. “When I leave, I’ll bolt the door from the outside.”
Blair moaned dejectedly.
“Rafe will stand watch in the hallway; Simon and Henry will be with father, Stephen and I.”
“Aye,” came the pitiful acknowledgement.
James checked that his dirk and skein-dubh were secure in their scabbards; he adjusted his plaid and reached for the door handle before looking at Blair.
“Sleep well.”
A half-hearted wave of one hand, dangerously close to being a wave of dismissal, answered him.
Blair sighed as the door closed. When he heard the bolt slide home, he angrily kicked James’ belt and sporran off the bed. The sporran hit the floor and upended, spilling its contents and scattering them.
Blair considered leaving things lay where they were; James was a sentinel, after all. Even if he returned late and it was dark, he should have no problem avoiding stepping on them. He quickly discarded the idea, admitting to himself it was selfish and childish.
He dragged himself off the bed and carefully set his feet on the floor. He made quick note of where things were before setting about retrieving them. He gathered them up, not paying much attention to what they were. When he finally had everything, he snatched the sporran and sat, cross-legged, in the middle of the floor. About a dozen small items rested in the folds of his kilt. He took a moment to examine each item before putting it back inside.
There were several small pieces of flint and a striker, three fish hooks, stuck into a small strip of leather with fishing line wrapped around it, a small tin containing charred linen, two smooth flat stones, several horn and pewter buttons, and a coin purse, the strings still tightly knotted; Blair hefted it and gave it a shake, smiling at the sound of the coins clinking against each other.
He stood, and turned back toward the bed. One additional item, nestled in the rumpled folds of the blanket where the sporran had landed, caught his eye. Blair tossed the sporran onto the bedside table offhandedly before reaching down to pick up the item. As he held it in his hand and brought it into the light, he gasped and dropped to his knees.
His amulet. His good luck charm, lost, he’d thought, many weeks ago. And yet, here it was, in James’ sporran. Why? Why would James have taken his amulet and hidden it from him? Blair ran his fingers lovingly over the surface of the amulet, thinking back to both the day it was given to him and the day he’d met James.
He was startled out of his pondering by three pebbles careening in through the open window. Two landed on the floor in front of him, the third clipped him on the upper arm. Muffled voices could be heard from below the window.
“Psssst! Blair! Blair!”
Blair jumped to his feet and hurried to the window. He leaned out and spotted Hugh staring up at him. Duncan had his back to Hugh, nervously glancing about.
“Come
on,” Hugh urged in a half whisper. “We were coming to
fetch you when we saw Master Ellison leave and bolt the door. I dinna
think he saw us in his haste to depart. Master Banks was waiting for
him, looking impatient.” He pointed to the window ledge and
then to the branch of a tree a few feet out from the building. “You
can shinny down the tree.”
”I cannot,” Blair
answered. “James has forbidden me to leave. He thinks---”
“Aye, aye, we’ve heard all that nonsense about someone whisking you away,” Hugh said impatiently. He chuckled awkwardly. “And what good would that do now? Everyone’s already seen that Master Ellison hasna gone mad.”
Blair chewed at his bottom lip as he thought things over.
He’d been right when he’d told James it was a daft notion. What would it profit anyone abducting him now?
He still held his amulet, clutched in his fist. It riled him to think James had hidden it from him. And it irked him that James had forbidden him to join his friends. A few hours out would do no harm; James would be gone at least that long, and none the wiser.
“All right, then,” he called softly. “I’ll be down shortly.”
Blair went to the door and knocked. “Rafe?”
“Aye, what is it, lad?” came the answer.
“I’ll just be off to sleep now. I’m more tired than I’d realized.”
“’Twas a long day for ye, eh lad? Off with ye, then, and sleep well.”
Blair crossed the room to the smaller of the two beds. He pulled some blankets from the chest that sat against the wall between them. With an experienced hand, he piled the blankets on the bed, thumping and shaping them until they resembled an approximation of a wee curled up body. He took a moment to rub a thumb across his amulet before tucking it carefully into a small pouch dangling from his belt.
Then he hurried to the window. He climbed up onto the ledge and inched along it until he could make a grab for the branch. He did so, easily reaching it, and swung himself over. He looked down and Hugh urged him on with fluttery finger motions and a whispered caution.
“Have a care when you get to the bottom. There’s a nasty patch of thistles nestled at the base of the tree. Keep to the left and ye should be able to hop free of it.”
Blair followed his friend’s direction and soon the three lads were running together toward the camp at the base of the hill beneath the castle.
As the sound of the boys’ footsteps faded, a large figure stepped out from the shadow of the castle’s wall. He glanced up at the open window and shook his head before starting off after the boys at a trot.
The next few hours did much to allay James’ fears and suspicions in regards anyone plotting against sept Ellison, especially their newest addition.
He accepted that politics and subterfuge were often a part of clan life, with those desiring power jockeying for position within the clan. But it was not always one’s rank or seniority in the clan that gained the MacKenzie’s ear. Ronan had always been a fair leader, willing to listen to any fellow clansman who could state his case intelligently, proving time and again that clamorous posturing was a wasted effort.
By the time James and Simon arrived back in the great hall, the blowhards who had been trying to sow discord among the chieftains had already been quieted and put in their place by others, saving James the tiresome task of intimidating anyone who’d threatened his guide or sought to challenge his rank.
A small group continued to gripe and grumble furtively, off by themselves with their backs to the hall. Most of their remarks were drown in tankards of ale, grog and whiskey, but little of what was said escaped the sentinel’s hearing. James soon allowed their talk to drift off, dismissing what was being said as nothing more than hollow mutterings.
The two highlanders spent a pleasant couple of hours mingling among their fellow clansmen, strengthening old bonds and building new ones.
Blair eagerly allowed Hugh and Duncan to pull him along to the camp. He had every intention of enjoying his illicit escape from James’ unreasonable edict. The three lads made the rounds of the campfires, listening for a time to stories and boasting at one, joining in with singing at the next, sneaking cups of ale at another.
Several times over the course of the evening, as he was walking from one fire to the next, Blair would suddenly get an eerie feeling, as if he were being watched. He glanced around nervously once or twice and finally confided his uneasiness to his friends.
Duncan and Hugh both spent several minutes surveying the immediate area, keeping Blair between them. Neither lad had forgotten the whipping he’d received from his father at the sept gathering when they’d contributed to the guide’s foolhardy drinking spree, and endangered him by their impetuous dares.
No sinister figures materialized and they soon convinced themselves, and Blair, that it was only their overactive imaginations playing tricks on them.
They ended up with a knot of youngsters all close in age and Blair joined in several games of Fox and Geese and Nine Men’s Morris. When the last rays of the setting sun finally slipped away and the first stars became visible in the twilight sky, Blair decided he’d best head back to the castle. He bid his friends farewell and waved off their offers to accompany him, all earlier foreboding forgotten by all three in the midst of their fun.
Blair hurried along the dirt path leading to the castle. The night was still young; a hazy half moon was just beginning its climb into the night sky. The path was far from deserted at this hour, but the apprehension he’d experienced earlier returned as he once again had the uncomfortable feeling of eyes watching him. He increased his pace and became certain he heard footsteps speeding up behind him to match his own. He hazarded a look over his shoulder and his heart leapt into this throat as he noticed a large, burly figure clearly intent on catching up with him. The dim light made it impossible for Blair to make note of the large man’s features or dress. James’ words concerning threats and kidnapping echoed in his ears, urging him to break into a run.
The path wound uphill, twisting and turning; riddled with obstacles Blair hadn’t noticed on the way down. He dodged trees and carts, hurdled rocks, and darted in and out around other people on the path, garnering him startled looks and harsh rebukes when he would inadvertently shoulder someone out of his way.
He heard the man behind him cursing under his breath, huffing deeply as he labored to catch up with the youngster. Panic clutched at him, spurring him on. Just as he’d convinced himself he’d taken a wrong turn somewhere, the large tree he’d climbed down came into view. He bolted for it and breathed a sigh of relief as he reached its base.
Using large, gnarly roots to boost himself up, Blair found a handhold on the trunk and swung himself up to begin his climb. His moment of triumph was short lived as a large, sweaty hand grasped his left ankle firmly.
“Gotcha, ye wee gamin,” a wheezing, out of breath voice crowed.
Blair shook his leg furiously, trying to loose the man’s hold, but all his action did was cause his hand to slip and he slid downward. He scrabbled madly to re-secure a handhold and pull himself away from his attacker, but he’d lost the small advantage he’d had and he felt himself slipping further. In a desperate attempt to break free, Blair struck out with his right leg, landing a hard kick on the man’s windpipe.
The plan worked; the hand immediately let go as the man clutched at his throat, cursing gruffly. His victory was once again cut short as Blair realized, too late, he should have had a better hand hold on some part of the tree before he’d acted. Once the man let go, Blair had nowhere to go but down.
He sailed the short distance to the ground, his kilt flying up as air rushed under it. He landed hard on his butt…right on the edge of the thistle patch at the base of the tree.
Blair jumped to his feet as the sting of a dozen thistles burrowing into his small backside registered in his brain. He was assisted to his feet by two meaty hands snatching his shirtfront and yanking hard.
Blinking back tears, Blair felt himself lifted off his feet as his attacker pulled him upward. He blinked several more times and as his vision cleared, he looked into the gruff face of his assailant. Two eyes, narrowed to slits in brows twisted into a knot, stared back at him.
Blair’s heart plummeted from his throat into the pit of his stomach as he recognized the face he was gawking at.
“G-geordie?” He stammered through a nervous laugh. “What’re you doing here?”
Geordie McManus’ stern gaze lessened and an amused twinkle lit his eyes. “The question is, lad, what are you doing here?”
He didn’t wait for answer; he hugged the boy fiercely before setting him back on his feet. “We’re camped not far from here. A clan council is a fine opportunity to trade and entertain, is it not? James sent for me and spoke with me in private, and asked me to keep watch.” He tilted his chin toward the window above them. “He feared someone might try to gain access through yon window and make off with you. Though why anyone would steal a scrawny wee grommet such as you is beyond my ken.” Geordie fisted his hands on his hips and pinned Blair with a sour glare. “He didna warn me you’d be in cahoots with the nefarious miscreants.” The big man’s voice held a hint of amusement.
Blair squirmed under Geordie’s dour scrutiny and the movement drew his attention to the prickly thistle spines embedded in his backside.
Blair began wiggling frantically. “I…” He looked at Geordie with tear filled eyes. “I...”
“Wheesht, now, lad, ‘tis not me you need to be explaining things to.” Geordie wrapped a large arm around the boy and hugged him to his ample midsection.
“You do not understand,” Blair sniffled. “I, I, landed in a patch of thistles!” He continued to dance in place as he pointed to a spot at the base of the tree where there was a flattened out area among the thistles that matched the size of his butt.
Geordie snorted in amusement as he quickly scooped Blair up and under one arm, holding him in place against his waist. The youngster started to protest his undignified mode of transport, arms and legs dangling helplessly, fidgeting and cursing, as he was carted into the castle. He soon gave up as his motions only served to heighten the fiery, prickly sensation spreading across his backside.
James and Simon entered the hall leading to James’ room from one end at the same time Geordie entered the hall from the opposite end.
The sentinel immediately became aware of his guide’s distress and made straight for Geordie at a run, with Simon close behind. The two men ran past a startled Rafe, who watched with concern, but didn’t leave his post.
“What is it?” He shouted after them. “What’s wrong?” Neither man answered as they continued their dash down the hall. He threw open the bolt and entered James’ room, shutting the door behind him, ready to defend the sentinel’s guide from whatever danger was in the hall. The room was semi-dark, with very little light filtering in through the window. He glanced quickly at the huddled figure on the bed and then turned his attention back to the closed door.
The sight of Blair, limp in Geordie’s hold, sent a surge of panic through James. As they neared each other, Geordie halted and waited as James came pounding up next to him and skidded to a stop.
“Blair! What’s happened?” James asked breathlessly. “Is he hurt?” Worried eyes darted from Geordie to Blair as Geordie set the youngster down on wobbly feet.
James grabbed his guide, steadying him, and pulled him close. He quickly scanned the boy for signs of injury, gently running his hands up and down the small frame.
Blair hissed as his kilt brushed across his backside, causing James to look to Geordie for an explanation.
Geordie gestured for James to calm down.
“He’s not hurt, exactly.” Geordie gave Blair a sympathetic smile. “His wee fanny landed in a patch of thistles…” Blair winced. “After he kicked me in the throat…” James’ brows furrowed. “…When I grabbed his foot while he was climbing a tree…” Simon rolled his eyes and shook his head. “… To sneak back into the castle…” James tightened his hold on Blair, who was now fidgeting. “…After he and two other lads spent the last two hours in the Cameron camp down yon hill.” Geordie waved his hand in the general direction of the unseen camp.
“I see,” James ground out. His jaw muscles twitched as he calmly turned Blair and steered him back down the hall toward their room. Simon and Geordie followed close behind.
Blair dragged his feet and tried pulling out of James’ grip, sputtering aimlessly the entire route.
Upon reaching his room, James pounded on the door, and announced his presence, before pushing it open and dragging his squirming guide inside.
Rafe stood ready, positioned half way between the door and his charge, his sword drawn. Light from the hall flooded the room and his mouth dropped open as he spotted Blair. He turned and gaped at the pile of blankets he was defending.
“But he…” Rafe pointed at the bed. “How did he…?” He looked questioningly at James. “I looked in on him not ten minutes ago.”
“Aye, never you mind,” James answered tersely.
He turned to Blair and spoke sternly. “Take off your kilt.”
The youngster unbuckled his belt with shaky hands and let it drop to the floor. He unwrapped the kilt from his waist and was about to let if fall when James snatched it from his hands. He handed it off to Rafe.
“Take this outside and shake it out good; examine it carefully and make sure there are no thistle spikes or prickles left in it.”
Rafe gathered the length of tartan in his arms and hurried out the door, eager to escape the tension that had settled over the small room.
James took a seat on the edge of the larger bed and crooked a finger at Blair as he patted his lap with his other hand. “Come here.”
Blair blushed from the base of his neck to the tips of his ears. He slowly moved to James’ side and bit his lip as he was eased down onto the highlander’s lap.
James took care to position him carefully. He plucked several thistles from the long shirt that covered Blair’s bottom before gently pulling the fabric off the irritated flesh. He winced in sympathy for his wee monster; the small backside was riddled with dozens of tiny thistle spikes.
Blair tightly fisted folds of blankets and squeezed his eyes shut, fighting back tears.
James rubbed Blair’s back soothingly and spoke softly. “Wheesht. ‘Tis not so bad. I’ll take care of it. They’ll be gone before you know it. Do ye trust me, lad?”
Blair relaxed under James’ comforting hand and nodded his head once. “Aye,” he whispered.
One by one, carefully, gently, James plucked the thistles out.
Blair did his best to hold still, jerking only when a deeply embedded prickle was pulled free. He hissed and winced occasionally and warm tears tracked down his face.
Ten minutes later it was over. Simon handed James’ a cloth soaked in cool water and James placed it on the heated bottom.
“There, my wee monster, they’re all out.”
“Are you sure?” Blair asked “All of them?”
James chuckled as he once again began rubbing Blair’s back. “I’m a sentinel, am I no? I’m certain none of the nasties escaped my notice.”
Geordie cleared his throat with a low rumbling cough. “I’ve a salve at my camp what’ll help ease the sting.” He jerked his head toward the door. “I’ll just go fetch it.”
“Aye,” James answered. “Thank you.”
Simon joined Geordie at the door. “I’ll go see what’s taking Rafe so long with the lad’s kilt.”
James smiled at his friend and nodded. As the two men left the room, James helped Blair to his feet. He hugged the boy to him and Blair laid his head on the highlander’s chest and wrapped his arms around James’ waist, returning the hug.
“You disobeyed me,” James stated.
Blair’s breath hitched as he nodded his head. “I didna think you’d have someone spying on me,” he whispered in reply.
James fortified himself with a deep breath. “”Twas not to spy on you that I asked Geordie to take up the watch. What kind of a sentinel would I be if I’d left poor Rafe to guard you all by himself in the hall with a window in here inviting any manner of scoundrel?”
James pulled free of the boy’s embrace and grabbed his chin, tilting Blair’s face up to meet his. “You disobeyed me. And you lied to me. Why?”
“Are you going to spank me?” Blair asked.
“Oh, aye. If you think your wee bum is afire now, just wait until my hand has finished with it.” James’ cool voice held definite promise. “Why, Blair?”
Blair jerked away from James. He stomped back and forth across the room, trying to find a way to justify his actions. He hadn’t been happy with James’ order, but he’d been willing to grudgingly go along with it until he’d found his amulet in James’ possession. He shook his head to and fro, jangling the trinkets and beads.
James waited patiently, arms crossed, with an amused smirk on his face as he watched his wee monster go through his thinking process.
Finally, Blair stopped and threw his arms into the air. “It wasna fair!” It was the only justification he’d been able to conjure.
“Aye,” James agreed. “We discussed that. And fair or no, it was my decision and you said you would obey me.”
“Verra well,” Blair answered. “You want to know why? Do you?” He scanned the floor and stomped over to where his belt still lay. He squatted down, careful of his backside, and slid the small pouch off the belt. As he stood, he pulled open the strings and reached two fingers inside. He rummaged for a moment, before retrieving his amulet.
He looked at it and then at James, who was studying him curiously the whole time.
“Here!” Blair flung the amulet at James, who easily snatched it out of the air. “You took my amulet and hid it from me.” Angry blue eyes stared at James accusingly. “Why should I do as you say?” Blair’s eyes filled with tears. “You…? Why should I…? I thought you knew how much it means to me!” The tears began to fall as Blair backed away from James.
The sentinel glanced at the amulet, wondering for a moment how it had gotten from his sporran to Blair’s pouch. It angered James that the lad would have gone through his private things and jump to such a preposterous conclusion about the fetish.
His eyes narrowed to slits as he pinned Blair with a no nonsense glare. He held the amulet up and walked calmly toward the youngster. When he reached the trembling boy, he took hold of one his hands, and pressed the amulet into it, closing the small fingers around it. Both sets of blue eyes held an equal amount of hurt.
“I didna take your charm, Blair. I found it several days ago, hidden among the ferns on the path to the stream.” Blair’s lower lip began to quiver as James continued in a calm voice. “Do you remember the day you were all muddy & I threw you over my shoulder?” Blair nodded hesitantly. “The leather which held it was frayed and the amulet must have broken free as you thrashed about. I placed it in my sporran, for safekeeping, until I had time to fashion a sturdier lacing.”
Blair hung his head and James had to turn up his hearing a notch to understand the boy’s softly mumbled words.
“I was angry when you left earlier and I kicked your sporran onto the floor and everything spilled out of it and then I found the amulet and then I, I,” Blair spluttered to a stop.
James dropped his head, shaking it slowly as he marveled at his guide’s convoluted thinking. It was a relief to know Blair’s finding the amulet was due to a short-lived tantrum and not a willful contrivance to pry where he shouldn’t.
James stepped closer to Blair, reached out and tugged affectionately at one of the long braided strands of hair. “’Tis a lesson learned, for both of us. Aye?”
“A-aye,” Blair agreed. “I am sorry, James.” He looked up at James and a crooked smile finally appeared. “I bested everyone at Fox and Geese.”
James pulled Blair into a headlock and walked the youngster to his bed, gently tapping the top of his head, ruffling the wild curls. “I’m sure ye did.” Blair laughed and made a half-hearted attempt to extricate himself from James’ hold.
When they reached the bed, James let go and Blair crawled onto the bed and flopped onto his stomach. He propped himself on his elbows, and looked over his shoulder at James. He hesitated a moment and then decided as long as he was in for a skelping anyway he might as well confess everything.
“I drank some ale, not much, a cup, well, two cups, but it wasna verra strong.”
“Aye, I know,” James said. “I could smell it on your breath right off. And it was strong enough.”
Blair groaned and let his head fall onto the pillow.
Geordie’s salve worked…a little too well for Blair’s liking. By mid-afternoon the next day, all trace of the tingly, pin-prickly bite of the thistles had dissipated. And once his backside cooled, James had promised to re-heat it with a sound spanking.
The thistles had caused minimal damage to Blair’s skin, but his pride had suffered an embarrassing blow. It had been bad enough having to endure the removal of the thistle spines while draped across James’ knees. But after that, Geordie had insisted on inspecting the damage for himself and applying the cooling salve.
The big man had been gentle and consoling throughout his ministrations but Blair felt sure the deep red blush coloring his face would take longer to fade than the redness on his bum.
James and Geordie had sat with Blair until he fell asleep, each man keeping his own vigil. Geordie seemed content to just watch the lad; James monitored his guide for any sign of fever or distress.
The two men spent some time talking and the highlander had ended up extending an invitation for Geordie to stay a spell at Cascade Moor. Geordie accepted with a hearty guffaw but stipulated he’d only stay a month or two before rejoining his wandering band.
The day’s council was another long affair, leaving Blair way too much time to ponder his upcoming fate. The chieftains were more amenable on most matters, no doubt due to the previous evening’s less formal discussions. But the more cordial atmosphere left the sentinel with less to be wary of. Which, in turn, left Blair fidgeting and restless.
James endured his guide’s lip biting and foot shuffling, thinking it would do the boy no harm to ‘suffer’ the anticipation of what he had due. But when the nervous squirming gave way to muttered recriminations of stupidity and self-doubt about his worth, James put a stop to it.
A lull in the council’s agenda gave James the opportunity to grab Blair by the elbow and pull him aside.
“Wheesht now, lad,” he admonished gently. “I’ll hear none of that. You disobeyed me and you lied, and for that you’ll be punished.” He tapped Blair’s cheeks affectionately with his fingertips. “But that’s all there is to it, aye?”
Blair studied James’ serious face for a moment before smiling sheepishly.
“Aye,” he answered. “I just wish it was over and done with.”
An hour later, Blair wished he was still on the anticipating end and not the receiving end of the promised punishment.
As soon as the council session ended, James exited the hall quickly with his guide firmly in tow. He ushered Blair ahead of him out of the hall amid curious looks. They ascended the stairs to the second floor in silence, neither inclined to make small talk.
James made note of the fact Simon and Geordie followed at a discreet distance, patiently explaining to any who asked that all was well, there was a family matter to attend to, and so on.
Deciding the lad knew full well why he was to be spanked, James wasted no time on lecturing. As soon as they were alone in the room, James took hold of Blair’s arm, pulled a straight back chair from against the wall, sat down and easily flipped Blair face down onto his lap.
The boy had no time to protest before his kilt was yanked off his wiggling backside, but he squirmed nonetheless, testing his freedom. James had a secure hold, though, and Blair emitted a startled yip as the first sound smack landed on his butt.
Tiny red spots dotted the small white bottom, the sole remnants of Blair’s tussle with the thistle patch. James’ persistent wallops soon reddened the entire surface to a uniform crimson, making the spots indistinguishable.
James spanked Blair soundly; disobedience and deceit were high on the highlander’s list of unacceptable behavior for his young charge. And added to Blair’s blatant disregard of James’ order was the fact James’ main concern in issuing the edict had been Blair’s safety.
Several colorful French expletives escaped Blair’s mouth before he could stop himself.
“I’ll allow you that one wee slip, lad,” James said he swatted a little harder. “But any further vulgar remarks and I’ll wash your mouth out with soap.”
Blair quickly clamped one hand over his mouth, stifling the next curse before it could roll off the tip of his tongue.
And then he began to squirm in earnest as the warmth spreading across his bottom soon deepened to a hot, blazing sting. His wiggling didn’t last long, as James soon re-secured his hold on Blair’s waist and tugged his wee monster in tighter against his torso, pinning his target in place.
James kept on spanking for several more minutes before finishing with a half dozen explosive swats that Blair felt all the way to his toes. Not for the first time while over James’ knees, Blair wondered if he’d ever be able to sit comfortably again.
James set Blair on his feet and before he could make the first move to offer comfort, the lad threw himself against the highlander, plastering his face against James’ chest and wrapping his arms around his waist.
He had held up bravely during the thrashing, steadfastly refusing to cry. He sniffled a few times as he mumbled an apology into James’ shirt. “Tha mi duilich,” he whispered.
The sentinel smiled and returned his guide’s hug. He gently patted Blair’s back, breathing soft ‘there now’s’ and ‘shushes’ into the soft curls tucked under his chin.
“What am I going to do with you, Blair, a chara?” James asked in an amused voice. “I’m like to wear the hide off your wee backside at this rate.”
Blair chuckled and released his hold on James. He reached back and rubbed his backside vigorously. “Aye,” he stated seriously. “Perhaps it would be best if you were to find a different way in which to impart your displeasure with my misbehavior.”
James grabbed the youngster and pulled him into another hug, swatting his butt once more for good measure.
“Ouch!’ Blair yelped.
James tousled Blair’s hair, welcoming the familiar sound of the trinkets and charms as they played with each other among the curls and plaits.
One loud rap sounded on the door and then it swung open, revealing Simon’s head and shoulders. “Are ye about done, then?” he asked with a knowing smirk. He looked at Blair and feigned a confused look. “He doesna look as if ye skelped him proper at all.” Simon winked at James and stepped into the room as he began rolling up one of his sleeves. “Perhaps I should take care of it for you?”
Blair quickly sidestepped, shielding himself behind James. He giggled nervously before answering. “Y-you wouldn’t!” He tugged at the highlander’s shirt. “James! Tell him!” He peered around James’ torso, rubbing his butt for emphasis.
Geordie shouldered his way into the room, giving Simon a good shove as he brushed past him. “Leave him be, then. I’ll wager James handled the skelpin’ right fine, aye lad?”
“Oh, aye,” Blair agreed hastily.
“Right, then!” Geordie clapped his hands together. “Let’s be off to the festivities.” He pulled Blair out from behind James and wrapped an arm around him, steering him toward the door.
James grinned; he’d taken a liking to Geordie after a shaky first meeting a few weeks earlier and it was plain to see Blair loved the big man. The youngster had been delighted to learn James had invited Geordie to come stay at Cascade Moor for a time.
Geordie bent his head toward the lad and conspired with him as they walked. “I’ve been told there’s a man by the name of Angus MacGregor what fancies himself something of a wrestler.” Geordie threw James a quick glance before lowering his voice. “Do ye think I can take him?”
Blair’s eyes lit up and he started to bounce in excitement. “Oh, aye, easily!” It was Blair’s turn to glance at James as he quickened his pace, hurrying Geordie into the hall. “Will you be wanting me to ply the crowd? Like we used to? Shade the truth about your ‘bad’ back and impaired faculties and handle the wagers?”
James rolled his eyes and shook his head as he effortlessly overheard the conspiratorial whispers. He grabbed a befuddled Simon and took off after the two, wondering what he’d let himself in for over the upcoming months.
The End
‘Tha mi duilich’ – I’m sorry (Gaelic)
‘a chara’ – Gaelic term of endearment meaning ‘my dear’
‘Wheesht’ – Be quiet
Skelp, skelping – to spank; a spanking