Grunts. Pounding. But where?
Pinpointing them, she moved softly toward the sounds, the once strange noises reckoning into those of a confrontation.
Nearing the hillside, Mary’s throat tightened; Richard locked in the throes of none other than Ian, one man laying still at their feet, while another stood off to the side, laughing as he watched.
Knife gripped, Mary sought to crouch low no matter how her aching muscles fought her directive.
If only she could disarm the man who watched first, then she might help?
Yes,she encouraged herself, ignoring the danger and her inadequacies.That will do it.
She could do it.
The man’s attention wholly fixed on the struggle happening before him, Mary crept nearer and nearer. Eight feet. Seven. Six. With every step her breath slowed, his laughter disguising the sound of her presence until a disobliging stone on another twisted and crunched beneath her foot, his head whirling toward her in an instant.
“You,” he breathed as he lunged after her, his weight throwing her painfully to the ground under him.
Whatever cry her body wished to give stolen by the force of the fall, her lungs sought any breath they might.He would not killher,she told herself, her eyes flitting from the man to Richard,But Ian would not hesitate to end Richard.
Weight shifting as she sought to push the man off her, Mary’s vision flickered as he shoved her back down, her head bouncing against the hard surface.
The fight between the Colonel and Ian growing louder, Mary blinked rapidly as she sought to refocus her attention to the man atop her.She would not be able to force him off.Feeling the weight of the knife in her hand, Mary considered her options, every instinct screaming against what she might have to do.
The pressure of his knee digging into her stomach building to a painful, nauseating pitch, she clutched the knife tighter, no longer certain her life might be spared as she considered his cold, hard eyes in the rising sun.He had no compassion. No compunction to spare her because she was a woman, or because he had been told to. And given he had stood laughing as Richard and Ian had fought for life itself, he had no conscience.
Still,she considered, the blade in her hand flashing in the first beams of dawn,could she use it?
Lifting her hand toward the man’s arm rather than his chest, she hoped injuring him would prove enough, yet, as his hand caught her wrist long before the blade could ever impact his skin, her worst fears were realized, his grip twisting her wrist until the blade faced her.
Pushing uselessly against the ground as the blade came toward her, Mary’s eyes widened, a silent prayer it would be quick passing through her mind.
The weight of the man disappearing in the flash of a moment, Mary sat upright, her gaze fixed to where the Colonel and he fought; her blade tossed aside in the struggle.
Turning this way and that, she worked to discover where Ian might be, the sight of him unmoving on the ground as unsettling as it was reassuring.She could help Richard.
Grass, a few small stones, loose dirt, these littered the earth while providing little in the way of weaponry, except…The glint of steel nestled in the grasses caught her focus. Retrieving it as quick as she might, Mary faced the two men, the tightness of her grip easing at the sight which met her.
Making her way toward them as the Colonel continued to pin the man against the hillside, a relieved smile made its way to her lips;if these three were the only ones which knew where they had gone, perhaps they would be safe at last.Yet, as the man’s hand drifted downward, thoughts of safety were snatched away, her feet scurrying the final few feet as she sought to defend her Richard.
“Do. Not. Move.” she warned the man, her blade at his throat causing him to blanch, his hand dropping a knife into the ground below.
“See, Miss, no knife…” he said as he raised his arms, “now be a good one and put yours away.”
“Once he ties you,” she answered as Richard unraveled the man’s cravat and proceeded to bind his hands behind him. “There,” she said at last, the man firmly bound, “now I can.”
Returning the knife to its sheath, Mary looked up, a broad grin forming on the Colonel’s face as she met his gaze.
“Might I tell you how amazing you are?” he questioned.
Lips rising in reply, she nodded. “Very well, you may. Though I might say the same about you.” Allowing her eyes to flit over hisform, her smile faded, “Are you wounded? I heard a shot before I arrived… and with those men and everything, are you hurt?”
Shaking his head, he answered, “We fought over a loaded gun, though thankfully neither of us lost due to its discharge; it whizzed past my ear and likely him.”
Brow furrowing, she set her hands on her hips, “But are you wounded, sir? Not shot, that is clear, but are you hurt?”
Stepping closer to see for herself, she circled him, her eyes and hand drawn to a large slit in his coat and shirt. Fingering the material, she stilled at the sight of blood, her eyes narrowed as she moved to meet his. “What is that?”
“What is what?” he asked, his brows raising comically. “Alright, do not glower so, it is the result of Ian’s knife meeting my arm, but as it merely slid across the surface there is little need for concern.”
