He had seen courage like hers before, on a battlefield. She was fierce, terrified and alive all at once, and he knew if he did not intervene, that light in her eyes would be put out. That was something he could not allow.
“Let th’ lass go,” Halvard warned, his voice a low growl, feral.
The man hesitated, the panting in his breath showing his exertion. “This is none of yer concern,” he bit out.
“’Tis more of my concern than ye may ken,” Halvard replied. “I’m laird of these lands, and tae me, it appears ye’ve taken this lass against her will?”
CHAPTER THREE
Elsie looked between the two men, her captor releasing her hair, and bringing her to stand on her feet next to him. His grip was still tight and firm, but his demeanor towards the man claiming to be laird, had changed. He was reverent, calm.
“Begging yer forgiveness, m’laird,” he said. “Ye’ve misunderstood what ye’ve come upon, is all. The lass is nae a captive.”
“The lady travels wi’ us of her own free will, me laird,” the other man said, smiling at the stranger with a gap-toothed sneer.
But the laird demanded answers and growled, “I’d hear it from th’ lass herself, then.”
Her captor turned to her, his rotten smile filled with challenge and threat. The press of his knife in her ribs, just out of herwould-be savior’s line of sight, was firm. His meaning was not lost on her. “She is wi’ us of her will. Isnae that right, lass?”
Elsie’s heart hammered in her chest. For a moment she considered lying, maybe they’d go and she’d live. But the thought of being thrown back into the dank, dark wagon only to be sold choked her. “Say it…” her captor hissed in her ear, pressing the knife more firmly into her stomach.
“Is that the truth, lass?” The laird waited, his pale blue eyes not leaving hers.
Elsie met his gaze, and her breath caught. He was strength and surety. He looked completely unshakeable, poised and ready to strike, as if nothing, no blade or attack, would surprise him. She thought of what fate awaited her, all depending on her answer in that moment. She knew if she stayed silent what waited for her beyond would be much worse than the knife in her belly.
“I’m not with them, my lord,” she said, her voice clear and loud. “They kidnapped me.”
Her captor’s snarl twisted. “Ye fool…”
Elsie moved fast, driving her heel into the man’s shin with every ounce of strength she could muster as she twisted away from his grip. The knife he held at her side scraped her stomach, but as sharp as she knew it was, the wound was shallow. She stumbled toward the laird, holding her side.
Her admission was all her savior needed. His hand went to his sword.
“She’s naethin’ tae ye, me laird,” the second captor said, pulling out his own steel. “Ye’ve nay business here and nay claim tae th’ lass. I ken fer a fact these lands arenae yers. Take yer man and go before ye make enemies ye’ll regret.”
“Halvard…”
Elsie’s eyes flicked to the laird’s companion. She had barely noticed him before but he also had his sword drawn. Together the two men were a force.
Halvard’s eyes—now she knew his name—flicked from Elsie to his man, and back to her captors. He was calm, assessing the moment they were in, and Elsie could not help but think he was dangerous.
“None of me business, is it?” he murmured slowly as he pulled her against him with his free arm. He looked down at her, turning her away from the hungry stares of her captors. If she could read his thoughts in the depth of his gaze, she knew he was telling her to trust him. “Tell me, lass,” he asked solemnly, “will ye marry me?”
Elsie blinked. “What?”
“Marry me,” he repeated, his tone serious.
“Are you mad?” Elsie stared at him breathless. “You can’t just propose in the middle of…” she waved her hand around. “Whatever this is?”
“Choose quickly,” he growled. “Them or me? A wife I can defend, a stranger, I cannae.”
She almost laughed at the insane, absurdity of her circumstance, because surely this man, this laird, Halvard, as his friend called him, had taken leave of his senses. But when she met his gaze, she saw no jest, only a grim certainty. Behind her she could hear her captors shifting, recovering their courage.
“God help me,” she whispered. “Fine, I’ll marry you.”
Halvard’s lips curled into a small smile of approval. “Good answer.”
Then, before Elsie could respond, he turned back to her would be slavers, moving her behind him and with a voice that boomed like thunder over moor. “Ye heard th’ lass, she’s me betrothed. Which means ye were tryin’ tae take her from me.”
