He swung his steel high in the air, the shiny metal catching a glint from the sun. Elsie could not help but be in awe of his raw strength, the pain in her side forgotten as he moved forward. “And that,” he said, “makes this very much me concern.”
The fight that followed was short, brutal, and much to Elsie’s shock, mesmerizing. She knew she should have been terrifiedbut she found herself rivetted, unable to turn away. Halvard moved like he was part of the landscape, carved from the wind itself. Each strike of his steel was clean and certain. His every motion full of intent and control. The slavers lunged at him, and he dodged with almost no effort, his sword swinging through the air.
She caught flashes of him through the chaos. His broad shoulders flexing, his pale eyes glinting like cold steel mixed with ice-blue fire. He was magnificent.
It was a strange time to notice such things, she thought, embarrassed because, as it were, he was very well saving her life. But she found she could not help it.
She ducked as one of her captors came rushing at her to seize her again, snapping her back into the moment. She let out a yelp of pain as he missed but clipped her head with his arm at full speed, resulting in a sickening crack that sent her flying backward.
Through the haze of pain she saw Halvard turn, rage in his eyes. His sword caught the other man, mid-swing. In a deadly blur of motion, Elsie watched as her captor crumpled to the ground. The only sound coming from the gurgling of blood in his throat.
The other man tried to run, but Halvard caught him before he made it three steps toward his horse. With a fury of pure fire and rage the laird swung his sword down and ended the man with one clean and efficient stroke. The battle was over before Halvard’s companion had even had an opportunity to join the fight.
The silence was deafening.
A strong hand, long fingers marked by work and tan from the sun, reached down toward her, offering her aid. She blinked up at Halvard, dazed. “You… you killed them.”
“Aye,” he replied, simply, helping her too her feet, before wiping his blade on the first fallen man’s cloak. “Did ye wish fer me tae ask the brutes tae kindly leave ye be?”
She could have laughed at the casual tone with which he spoke of the dead. The dead he himself had killed.
“You seem to have very direct methods here.”
“That we dae” he replied looking at her.
Elsie winced, unable to hide the sharp pain in her side. “Ye’re hurt, lass.”
“It’s nothing,” she replied softly. “I’ve had worse roaming the fields of my father’s estate.”
He gave her a stern look, which she interpreted as a lack of belief on his part Without another word, he shrugged off his heavy shoulder plaid and draped it over her shoulders.
“Yer Da’s estate, is it in Scotland then, lass?”
“No,” she stammered. “I’m English. I am Lady Elsie Montgomery.”
“I can very well see that, but ye mean tae say ye were taken from English soil?”
She could only nod. This man, this place, it was all so foreign to her. But she could not allow herself to be at anyone’s mercy.
“I can manage, just fine,” she sputtered.
“I’m sure ye can, lass,” he said evenly. “But I’ll nae have ye freezin’ tae yer death after I just killed tae keep ye safe.”
Something in his tone told Elsie that she would win no argument there. She took the thick wool and wrapped herself. It smelled of warm leather, and something else, salt and woodsmoke. After travelling for so many days being chilled to her very bones, it was heaven.
“Thank you,” she said softly.
“Now,” he replied, his tone warming. “Tell me what happened. Who were those men, and why were ye wi’ them?”
“I was walking, exploring as it were,” Elsie tried to explain. “The lands in the north are different than what I’m used to in Hertfordshire. I thought I was on my family land, but I must have wandered too afar. You see, my uncle brought my sister,Selene, and I up with him as he had business. My father, he is dead, and my uncle is set to inherit.”
Her words were measured though her head was anything but calm. She knew she was talking too much as was her habit when she was nervous, and the incredibly large and brutal Highland laird definitely made her nervous.
How she wished now she had just attended the luncheon with Selene when she was supposed to, instead of wandering. “There was an older woman,” she continued. “She looked as though she needed help. I could not leave her. But as I…”
“Go on, lass,” he softly encouraged.
Elsie took a deep breath. “There were men, two of them. They jumped out from the bushes and grabbed me, covering my head…” she wiped at a tear that stubbornly escaped her eye and rolled down her cheek. “Next thing I knew I was waking, with a horrid headache, in the back of that wagon under the threat of being sold.”
