The most ungodly sound spewed from John’s lips as he attacked. The Scot swung his weapon, felling John with a terrible whack. The battle was over before it had begun.
Elizabet rushed toward her brother’s lifeless body. “John!”
Too late, she could hear shouts from her father’s men as they came rushing to the scene.
The behemoth stooped to look at him.
“Leave him alone!” she demanded. “John!” she cried, assessing his wounds. He was sprawled on the bracken, but there wasn’t any visible blood. Still, his face was pale, and his lips were already turning blue. He lay as still as a cadaver. “Look what you’ve done!” she screamed up at the Scotsman, tears pricking her eyes.
Her father’s men rushed into the copse then, but Elizabet didn’t look up. Where the hell had those ne’er-do-wells been when she’d needed them? She held John’s face, begging him to awake. He was the only family she had left—her only friend! “John!” she cried softly, but he didn’t move.
Panicked, she peered up at the Scot. “You’ve killed him!” she screamed, and looked up in time to see him hurl his dagger into one of her father’s men. Wide-eyed, the man fell backward, the knife protruding from his breast. The other two froze where they stood.
Where was Tomas?
Elizabet scanned the forest, her heart hammering as she searched, desperate for his aid. John had fallen, so had Edmund, and the two remaining were not enough to overpower this madman.
Aye, she had completely misjudged him.
The men stood staring at one another, at an impasse, her father’s men unwilling to approach him. In fact, only one of the two remaining was even armed.
Without warning, the Scot jerked her up, dragging her backward. Once more he pressed his blade to her throat. “Neither o’ ye move,” he said. “Or she dies!”
Neither man stepped forward to help her.
Elizabet didn’t know whether to be grateful or incensed. Swallowing, torn between fear and grief, she allowed the Scotsman to drag her away from her brother.
How could she have endangered them all so frivolously? Guilt accosted her and she blamed her unruly tongue. How many times had her mother warned her that her mouth would be the death of her? Jesu, it seemed her mother was right.
Their livery was the same as that of the bowman’s.
Broc didn’t intend to hurt her, but he had no wish for her companions to know it. She seemed to know them, and yet there was no mistaking the fact that oneof their party had only moments before tried to murder her. The arrow had missed them both, embedding itself in a tree behind them, but it hadn’t been aimed at Broc, of that he was certain, and he didn’t have time to make explanations to the she-wolf howling in his ear.
He could bloody well leave her, aye, but what would become of her? If he left her to their mercy, would he be signing her death warrant? Somehow, it mattered to him what happened to the wench.
Who the hell was John anyway? Her lover?
Certainly she seemed distraught enough over a bump on the head, as Broc had barely grazed him with the butt of his dagger. The idiot Sassenach must’ve swooned!
A thousand questions barreled through his head, but there was no time to mull over any of them. He made a swift decision, relying on his instinct to guide him. It rarely led him astray.
He drew the girl back with him away from the two men. “If either o’ ye follow,” he warned, “I’ll slice her throat before your eyes!” And in case that wasn’t deterrent enough, he added with a vicious smile, “And then I’ll cut out your hearts and feed them to the hound!”
Though the hound, he realized, had fled. Smart dog. Smarter than his mistress, it seemed.
He watched as both men turned to look at the man he’d felled, considering his threats. Evidently deciding he was capable of doing exactly what he claimed, neither of them moved to disobey him.
Bloody cowards, the lot of them! Were this his mistress, he would have given his life to protect her.
He placed a hand over her mouth and whispered, “You must trust me.”
She rewarded him with a kick in the shin.
“Ouch!”
Damn. Ungrateful wench!
He pressed his blade to her neck, silencing her,realizing that she couldn’t possibly understand that he was only trying to help her. He didn’t have time to try to convince her. Brute force, he realized, was the fastest way to gain her compliance.
