“Aye,” agreed his tall, skinny companion. “Like your horse, that fine bauble dangling on your neck, and your wee bonny self, eh, Malcolm?”
“Ye have the right of it, Andrew,” Malcolm agreed, and he edged closer to Gisele.
“Come any closer, you filthy bastards, and I will ensure that you do not have anything left to take me with,” she threatened, and was momentarily pleased to see them both take a step back.
“Ye ought to be more kindly, lass,” said Malcolm. “It could make this a wee bit easier on ye. Aye, we may e’en leave ye alive.”
“Your kindness overwhelms me.” She set herself into her fighting stance and watched both men frown. “Are you prepared to pay for such small gains with one or both of your meager lives?”
They hesitated yet again, and Gisele knew it was because her stance told them she might not be as unskilled as they had first thought. She prayed that they were both craven cowards. If they were, it might take only one small bloodletting for them to decide she was not the easy prey they had thought she was and flee.
Malcolm struck first, and Gisele easily deflected his crude sword thrust. He was no fighter, wielding his weapon more like an axe or a stick, but she told herself not to get too confident. Andrew stood by, agape with surprise and uncertainty. She prayed that would continue, for she could not fight two men at once. After just a few moments, Malcolm stepped back, sweating and softly cursing.
“I believe you may now understand that this will be no easy work,” she said, using the respite to recoup the strength she had used.
“Aye, Malcolm,” muttered Andrew. “I dinnae see that she has anything worth dying for.”
“The lass cannae hold firm long enough to kill me, fool,” snapped Malcolm who then glared at his companion. “’Twould go a lot faster if ye stepped in to give me a hand.”
Andrew frowned and rubbed a dirty hand over his weak chin. “Weel, I am nay sure I have the stomach for fighting with a wee lass.”
Gisele allowed herself a brief inner sigh of relief. Here was a weakness she might take advantage of. Although Andrew was no more than a lowly thief, he obviously had some vague sense of what was right, some line he would not cross. She just had to hope that Malcolm, the obvious leader of the pair, could not talk the man into crossing that line.
“Ye would rather stand by and watch me slaughtered?” Malcolm yelled.
“Weel, nay, but ye just said that she couldnae kill you.” Andrew took a cautious step back when Malcolm faced him, sword in hand. “I dinnae think it will help matters if ye start hacking away at me.”
“We can get good money for that horse,” Malcolm said in a softer, cajoling voice.
“I think he be lame.”
“Nay. We watched her take the pebble out. ’Tis but a wee tenderness that will pass. That bauble she wears is worth a fine purseful, as weel. And, my friend, how long has it been since ye had any lass as fine as this one, eh?”
“Aye, there is that.”
This was not going well, Gisele decided, her brief flicker of hope swiftly dying. Andrew was slowly allowing avarice to win out over what few morals he had. She struggled against letting her growing fear cloud her mind. If they both confronted her she had no chance, but she would not just give up her life. They would be forced to pay dearly for accosting her. They would also be forced to kill her, she decided with an oddly calming sense of resignation. She would do all in her power not to become a victim of rape, and if that meant dying by one of their swords, then she would die.
“Come, lad, give us a hand. Together we can knock the sword from her hands and then all will be ours—the horse, the necklace, and the lass. We can have us a fine time.”
“Sorry, lass,” Andrew said as he stood next to Malcolm, his sword in his hand. “A mon has to eat, ye ken.”
“I did not realize that rape put food on the table,” she said.
“Nay, it doesnae,” said Malcolm, “but it can make a mon enjoy the meal more. Now, if ye were a clever lass ye would put that wee sword down and let us be about our business. Ye will suffer less that way.”
“And I think the lass is clever enough to ken that ye are the greatest of liars,” drawled a cold, deep voice from behind the two men.
Twenty-four
Gisele stared at Nigel with the same look of complete surprise that contorted the two thieves’ faces. How did the man keep finding her? Although his arrival was heartily welcomed at this precise moment, she knew that would be short-lived. He was going to be asking her a lot of questions, and she knew he would not like her answers. Standing firm against Nigel might prove to be harder than standing against Malcolm and Andrew.
She shook free of her shock and watched the two thieves. For one brief moment they faced Nigel squarely, then Malcolm began to slink away, edging toward the trees. A minute later Andrew realized that his companion had every intention of deserting him, and quickly followed. Nigel made one swift lunge at the two men, who immediately turned tail and disappeared into the surrounding trees. It annoyed Gisele that Nigel could inspire such fear while all she seemed to inspire was amusement and annoyance.
The moment the men were gone Gisele sheathed her sword and heard Nigel do the same. She took a deep breath to strengthen herself and looked at him, then inwardly winced. He did not look happy with her.
“I think we will return to the village now,” Nigel said as he grabbed the reins of her horse before she could and then watched the animal take a few hesitant steps. “Ye have done well, havenae ye? But one night alone and ye have nearly got yourself raped and killed, and ye have crippled this poor beast.”
“He is not crippled,” she snapped, following behind Nigel as they walked to where he had tethered his mount. “He had a pebble in his hoof, and is but a little tender. It will heal.”
