Slowly, until he was out of the Sassenachs’ sight, he pulled her backward into the forest, and then, once they could no longer be seen, he seized her by the arm, holding her firmly, and dragged her behind him.
He hoped she wouldn’t give him too much trouble. He was doing this for her own good and he didn’t want to come to regret it. “You’ll keep your mouth shut if ye know what’s good for ye!” he said.
“You killed my brother!” she accused him, struggling to free herself. “Stop! I have to go back!”
A sense of relief washed over him. It was her brother he’d felled, not her lover. Somehow, that knowledge pleased him.
“You’renotgoing back!” he assured her, jerking her arm, though not to hurt her. “Your brother isn’t dead, lass!”
“But I saw you kill him!” she argued, and dug in her heels, resisting. “I’m not going with you! You can’t make me! Do you have any notion who I am?”
“If I did, wench, do ye think I’d have asked ye thrice to tell me?”
She kicked him again and fell upon her rump, fighting harder to free herself.
“My father will kill you for this!” she hissed up at him, struggling valiantly.
Be damned, if he needed this sort of trouble. It had started out to be a damned fine day. Why did he have to go and befriend her stupid hound?
“He would have to catch me first, lass.”
And they certainly would if he remained an instant longer. Muttering an oath, he swung her to him, tossing her over his shoulder, stifling her protests once and for all. She gasped, and he knew he’d knocked the breathfrom her lungs. Good, mayhap it would silence her long enough to get them safely away.
He knew these woods better than any but Seana Brodie. There was no way her men would catch him, even with his lovely little burden.
“Trust me!” he bade her, knowing it was a ridiculous request considering the circumstances.
“Trust you!” she exclaimed, once she caught her breath. She pounded his back furiously with her dainty fists. “Let me go, you Scots barbarian!”
Broc didn’t give her a choice.
She was going to have to trust him.
Instinct told him he was doing the right thing.
Whether they were all in league, or not, he knew without doubt someone in her party wanted her dead. Perhaps they all did, for all he knew. Once he reached Seana’s old, abandoned home, he would settle her down and simply explain. She’d thank him then because he’d very likely saved her life.
As for her brother, someone else would nurse his headache, because he was no more dead than his sister was timid.
Tomas waitedfor his companions to leave and then came from his hiding place among the trees.
They would go after the mounts first, he knew, and then ride after Elizabet.
He went quickly to Edmund’s body to see if he still lived and finding him dead, he smiled in satisfaction. His task would go all the easier now. The last thing he wished was for Edmund to witness what he must do next. Edmund was the only one Tomas might have had to worry about. The other two were stupid fools. If he told them the Scots idiot had sliced John’s throat, they would believe it. And if they didn’t, hewould make it worth their while to keep their stupid mouths shut.
He hurried, then, to where John lay and saw that the milksop still breathed. He turned John’s head, searching for a wound, and found nothing but a graze at his temple. Damned woman was what he was! The man didn’t deserve to live.
He peered at John in disgust.
If Tomas allowed it, every cent of Margaret’s money would end in the bellies of her husband’s children, and Elizabet, his bastard daughter, would place her dowry in de Montgomerie’s purse. But he wasn’t going to allow it. And Elizabet’s purse would be an added reward for protecting Margaret’s interests.
He was certain Margaret had never intended for these two embarrassments to reach their destination. Every one of the old man’s children was a burden upon his stepsister’s coffers. But until now, he’d failed in every attempt to eliminate these two leeches, and he was growing vexed. Every time he’d thought himself at an advantage, Edmund had managed to foil him.
He peered back at Edmund’s body.
The fool would no longer trouble him. The Scotsman had seen to that well enough. His aim had been deadly and true. And now, thanks again to the Scot, he had witnesses who would claim the man had murdered John, as well.
It couldn’t be more perfect.
