A silence spread out between them. She noticed the Murray soldiers glancing sidelong at each other.
After a moment, Laird Murray gave a sharp, angry laugh.
“Say whatever ye like. We’ll see how fine yer words are once I’ve cut out yer tongue. And as for yer stableboy… oh, I’ve got fine plans for him.”
“Ye won’t find him,” Senga snapped, a tendril of fear uncurling inside her.
“Oh, but he’ll come running when he hears yer screams. Tobey will bring him to me if he doesn’t. And once we’ve finished the battle here, lass, we’ll break down the convent walls and drag out the nuns. We’ll kill them all and make sure yer Abbess sees them all die. She’ll be the last to go. Laird Dickson has something special planned for her. All her trouble-making, all her politicking—it has all come to this. Women of the Highlands have been stepping out of their place for far too long, and I include ye in that, lass.”
Senga clenched her jaw. “Ye are a monster. I don’t feel fear when I look at ye, only shame that we share the same blood.”
He flew across the clearing, hand shooting out. His palm delivered a cracking blow across her cheek, and blood jumped in Senga’s mouth. She staggered, nearly falling, but just about managed to keep on her feet. Straightening up, she met his eye, dragging the back of her hand across her mouth. There was a bloody smear left on her knuckles, and she gave a grim smile.
At that moment, running footsteps approached, and Senga’s heart jumped into her mouth.
No, no, no,she thought desperately.No, Noah!
But it was a stranger who stumbled through the trees, gasping for breath. He wore Murray tartan, torn and bloodied, and his face was splattered with dirt and gore.
“M’Laird,” he wheezed, “Laird Dickson says ye are to release yer private troop of men. He wants them to try to take the Kenneth archers one last time.”
Senga let out a long, slow breath. Laird Murray’s livid gaze fixed on her, and she bit back a laugh.
The battle is going poorly, then.
“Very well, very well,” Laird Murray snarled. “I’ll keep three of them. It will be four when Tobey gets here.”
“He wants to launch an attack on the convent, too,” the man continued, wiping a hand across his sweaty forehead. “In case we have to retreat, he?—”
“Shut up!” Laird Murray howled. “Don’t say all this in front ofher!”
The man shot Senga a bewildered glance. “But she is a prisoner, m’Laird.”
Laird Murray gave a growl of rage, waving his hand. The man hurried off with the vast majority of Laird Murray’s personal soldiers in tow, on their way to join the battle.
“It is going poorly, then,” Senga stated.
“Shut up,” Laird Murray hissed, rushing towards her and lifting his hand to strike her again. Senga flinched, lifting her chin, and anticipated the blow. “I tell ye what, lass, ye won’t be so cocky once that lad gets here.”
“Perhaps I am already here. And if ye lay another hand on her, I’ll cut it off,m’Laird.”
There was an instant of silence. Senga was perfectly placed to watch comical surprise spread over her father’s face.
He spun around, facing the shadows that led to the deeper parts of the forest. A figure stood there, just out of the light. The sunlight caressed a bloodied sword.
“Noah,” Senga breathed, equally terrified and thrilled.
“Don’t just stand there,” Laird Murray roared. “Get him! Quickly! Where is Tobey?”
“Tobey will not be joining us, unfortunately,” Noah stated, taking a step forward into the light. He hefted his sword, the point glinting in the weak sunlight. “At all, in fact. I left him in pieces on the battlefield, I’m afraid.”
The color drained from Laird Murray’s face. Wordlessly, he gestured to his men. The three of them hurried forward grimly. One carried a greatsword, the other a heavy battleaxe, and the third, a small and thin man, carried a sharp shortsword in each hand.
Senga let out a ragged breath as all three pounced upon him at once, blades flashing. She glanced around wildly, looking for a weapon. A rock, or a branch, even, just something to…
A hand wound around her wrist, twisting her arm back and up until she cried out in pain.
“Oh no, ye don’t, lass,” Laird Murray hissed. “Ye are coming with me now.”
