Hiking up her skirts, she strode up the hill, humming an old folk tune.

Come follow, follow, follow, follow, follow, follow me.

Whither shall I follow follow follow,

Whither shall I follow follow thee.

To the Gallows

To the Gallows

To the Gallows, Gallows Tree.

Her voice grew louder as she went, and she fancied she was as bold as her voice. She could climb ships’ rigging and sing pirate songs too, if but given the chance.

She didn’t pause when she got to the base, didn’t need to think, simply placed hands and feet in the same spots she’d been using her whole life, and so clambered quickly up. Reaching a spot she thought was high enough, she straightened and edged along a branch, steadying her hands on a branch before her. Chewing her lip, she sang to the same tune:

Athena, Athena, come to me,

I’m climbing like an ass up the Gallows Tree.

No sheep to be seen, but he was right in her line of sight. She flicked her eyes away, fearing the merest glimpse of Aidan might call his attention to her. She’d cling to every scrap of dignity she could get, and climbing like a lad up the hanging tree wasn’t the most elegant of pastimes.

Oh, Aidan, Aidan, Aidan, let me be,

I can see your broad back from the Gallows Tree,

I’d be your pirate bride if you’d agree,

You could call me luvvie and your wild sweet pea—

Needing to scan over the far hill, she scampered higher, humming as she went. The greenery grew denser as she climbed, and no longer did she need to watch her step to find decent footing. Focusing only on the branches under her hands, she lost track of how high she went.

Until her foot slipped. She clamped her lips around a squeal, cursing herself. Pirate brides most definitely neither squealed nor yelped.

Glancing up, she realized just how dense the leaves had become, and shimmied out along the branch for a clearer look. Again, she purposely avoided looking in Aidan’s direction; she had more pride than to somehow call his eyes to her. Instead, she squinted, scanning past the hilltop to a ridge in the distance. Her vision wasn’t perfect, but she could spy green from white, and thought there might be a woolly body in the distance, though she couldn’t be sure.

Athena, Athena, Athena, appear to me,

Appear this instant, or my wrath you’ll see,

I’ll bet you taste so good and muttony …

Jutting her chin out, Elspeth peered as hard as she could, willing the distance to resolve into focus. If only the angle were just a wee bit better.

“You beast!” She knew it. It was a little white beast, she was almost sure of it. She stepped higher, and the movement was answered with a loud creak. This time she did yelp, gripping tight to the branch in front of her. Another crack swiftly followed, and the bough dropped six inches.

Heart galloping in her throat, Elspeth wrapped both arms around the branches at her chest. “Oh, sweet Jesu Domine, fool lass,” she whispered. “What’ve you done now?”

She scanned at her feet. She’d edged too far out from the trunk, teetering on wispy thin branches high above the ground. Too high to survive a fall. As though on cue, there was a groan and a snap, louder than before, and the branch simply dropped away from her feet.

Elspeth clung tight to the boughs at her chest, feet scrabbling like a beetle on its back. She regained footing, and quickly began her descent, hugging her body close to all the branches, hoping if she spread out elbows and hands and feet, the thinner branches would hold her.

She grew calmer as she neared the ground, but she grew more cavalier too, and made the mistake of grabbing something too thin to support her weight. As she reached her leg down, searching for her next step, there was a loud, splintering crack, and she toppled forward into the other branches, arms splayed before her, one leg dangling in the air, the other crooked awkwardly high behind her. The branch she held was still attached to the tree, but not for long, and not strongly enough to support her weight. She was paralyzed, feeling absurd, like the statue of some great, ungainly bird, frozen in flight.

“What on earth are you doing?”

Oh damn, damn, blasted … Every curse she could muster tripped silently through her lips. He’d come. She peered down through the leaves to see him standing beneath her, greenery casting dappled light on his sweatsheened body. Cripes.

Of all the people to come witness her folly, it had to be Aidan. Why couldn’t it have been someone else? Her father? Angus even?

She reached her free leg out, bobbing her ankle, in a blind attempt to find purchase that wasn’t there for the finding. Criminy.

Clearing her throat, she assumed what she hoped was calm and ladylike composure. “I… I seem to be …”

“Stuck in a tree? I can see that, luvvie.” Amusement threatened to curl his mouth into a smile, and Elspeth wished the sight elicited anger rather than this hideous mortification she currently felt. “Might I be of some

assistance?”

“No, thank you,” she said primly. “I can manage.”

“Clearly.” Humor tinged his voice, and she pretended not to hear it. He strolled a circle beneath her, and she flushed red and hot to realize he must have a perfect line of sight straight up her skirts. “But,” he added, “before I leave you to your… aerie, I must ask what you’re doing up there in the first place? You are a wise and wide-eyed girl … perhaps you are playing at being an owl?”

She set her chin, mustering as much dignity as one could when one was stuck in a tree. “Athena scampered off, and I was merely trying to find her.” She stretched her leg all around, and though she finally found a branch on which to rest, she could tell by the give at her foot that it wasn’t strong enough to bear her weight.

“Athena?”

She caught his eye, informing him in all seriousness, “My sheep.”

“Your sheep.” That budding smile bloomed full force. “Your sheep has a name?”

“She does.”

“And that name is Athena.”

“Yes, that’s right.” She adjusted her hands. The bark was beginning to cut into her palms, sweating now with her efforts. “It’s the Greek goddess of wisdom.”

He nodded sagely. “Wisdom … like climbing onto a too-thin branch?”

“She is the patron of Athens,” she explained. Her voice was even, but inside she was crowing, Go away, turn around, leave me be.

A fine plume of panic was unfurling in her belly. If she had to fall—and she feared she might—she’d just as soon fall in private.

“Oh, well that does change it, doesn’t it? Does this goddess of a sheep come when called?”

“Don’t mock.” Her humiliation gave a snap to her voice.

He chuckled. “Oh, luvvie, I’d not think of it.”

She’d pretend he was being serious, hoping the equanimity in her voice would show him how blind to fear she was. “As you can see, she most decidedly does not come when called.”

“Or whistled, as the case may be?” He cocked his head. “Because you told me you whistle to herd them. So I think you meant that this Athena does not come when whistled.”

“I think you are mocking me.” She clamped her teeth against the quivering of her chin.

Aidan gave her an earnest half bow. “There are many things in this world that I mock, and to my surprise I am finding that you, Elspeth, are not among them.”

The sound of her name on his lips sent a quivering through her limbs. She studied him intently, wondering if this was fresh mockery of a sort.

“So then.” Shading his eyes, he scanned the horizon. “Any sight of the missing mutton?”

The branch creaked again, and she squeaked. Lips pursed, she gave a quick shake of her head. So much for her display of passion, bravery, and spontaneity.

“You’re stuck, aren’t you?”

She shrugged as well as one could whilst dangling from a tree, but realized it was no good hiding her current situation. She was clearly as stuck as a thief on the gallows. “Mayhap.”

He strolled around the trunk. “Mayhap I think you are.” He returned to his original spot, and crossing his hands at his chest, asked, “When were you intending on asking for help?”

“I’m not—”

There was a horrible, shuddering groan as the branch listed dangerously lower. Aidan leaped to beneath where she hung. “Jump to me, luvvie. I think this sheep hunt is at an end.”

She shook her head, avoiding his gaze. Surely she’d squash him. Or break his bones. Or land with her skirts up over her head. No, she would find her way out of this. Without him to bear witness. “I’m fine here. Please get on about your work.”

He laughed outright. “Get on about my work? What if I propose this is my work? A farmer’s daughter in possession of an unbroken neck strikes me as the linchpin of a smoothly running enterprise.”

“No, truly, I can manage.”

There was the sound of splintering wood. She reached to a neighboring branch and held firm just as the other finally cracked. Aidan jumped out of its path as the bough slammed through layers of green, coming to rest at a sharp angle, its tip digging into the ground.

She dangled there, arms wide, feet hanging limply beneath her. She could let go, but she’d follow the same path, slamming through sharp branches on her way to the ground.

“Come now, Elspeth.” His tone was somber now, standing beneath her, beckoning with open arms. “Drop down to me.”

She gave a tight shake to her head.

“Dammit, girl. If you herded as other farmers do, you wouldn’t find yourself caught up a tree.” He disappeared from her view, but she heard him rustling at her back.

His hands grasped her waist from behind, and she choked. Chagrin screwed her face, her eyes shut tight. He must be at eye level with her thighs, or God forfend, her bottom.

“Come, then.” His voice was tight, and she wondered if he was affected too. “I’ve got you. Just let go.”