“I don’t know,” Finley muttered, wincing at the renewed wails. “But it’s obvious she’s not hurrying along like her da told her.”
They carried on down the path and were almost on top of Searrach Blair before she noticed them approaching. She gave a sharp shriek of fright and struggled to her feet, stumbling from the path into the wood.
“Get away!” she hiccoughed. “I’m go-going! L-leave m-me alone!” She stepped on the tail of her shawl and fell heavily into the brush.
Finley loped along to reach her side, setting her foot between Searrach’s shoulder blades before she could rise fully to her hands and knees. “You may stay right where you are.”
Kirsten came up behind Finley and planted her own foot with some force on the Blair woman’s full backside, sending Searrach face-first into the loamy forest floor with a yelp.
“Traitorous coo,” Kirsten spat.
The dark-haired woman turned her face toward Finley and Kirsten, blowing the leaves and hair from her wide eyes as best she could.
“You two!” she said, her round face full of genuine surprise. She began to struggle, but for all Searrach’s greater size, she had little actual strength. “Get off me, you Carson whores.”
Finley leaned onto her foot more firmly, until the Blair woman began to whine. “Who’s the Englishman whose dirty work you’re doing?”
“Get off!” Searrach screamed again, flailing with her arms and legs. “You doona ken what you’re doing! He’s already killed two men!”
“We know,” Kirsten said. “We saw it. And doona play at being in a hurry to warn anyone; it was clear you had nae other plans save for sitting on your arse and feeling sorry for yourself.”
Searrach stilled, then. “Spies,” she hissed. “You’re spies! I knew it! I told my father—”
“Shut up,” Finley said, pressing her heel into the woman’s back. “Who is the Englishman, and what does he want with Lachlan?”
“And what have you done to poor Dand?” Kirsten demanded.
“I’m nae telling you anything,” Searrach cried up at Finley. “You, who took my Lachlan. You ruined my plans! And you—”she craned her neck to glare at Kirsten—“throwin’ yerself at Dand. As if he’d have aCarson. The new treaty means nothing to us, you ken? Nothing! You’ll see!”
Kirsten made a growl deep in her throat and started toward the woman with her fists clenched, but Finley threw out an arm to stop her.
“Nay, Kirsten. It’s a waste of time. She’s nae going to tell us anything, are you, Searrach?”
“I can tell you what Lachlan’s cock tastes like,” Searrach said triumphantly.
Finley’s hands went to the belt at her waist. “Sit on her.”
Searrach craned her neck again. “What?”
Kirsten didn’t hesitate, drawing a pained “Oof” from the prone woman.
Finley straddled Searrach’s legs first, to stop their dangerous kicking, securing her ankles together with the tight cording, then drawing up her lower legs toward her buttocks. “Now that she’s seen us, we can’t have her running back to Town Blair and telling Hargrave we know he’s there. Can you reach her arms?”
Searrach screamed.
“Thank you.”
“Anything for you, Fin.”
“You stupid bitches!” Searrach cried. “They’ll kill all of you! You have nae idea what you’re doing!”
“I’ve had just about enough of that,” Kirsten grumbled, ripping a long, fraying strip from the edge of her shawl. She turned on her bottom on Searrach’s back and looped the strip around the woman’s wildly tossing head. Kirsten secured a double knot, and then a rather unnecessary bow, in Finley’s opinion, and then Searrach’s vitriol was reduced to muffled barks.
The two women stood up from their prey.
“We’ll tell someone where you are when this is all over,” Finley said.
“Probably,” Kirsten added.
