She stumbled toward the door and was slamming it closed when Donaldson slapped his hand on it and pushed back. Cait threw her weight into the door, but Donaldson was much stronger.
She abandoned the door to race through the kitchen and out the back, her one thought to draw Donaldson away from the refugees hiding in her cellar. There was no doubt that he would catch her. She was much too slow and he was much too fast for her to get away. Her only hope was to draw him into the forest and hide—at least the refugees wouldn’t be discovered.
She raced outside, casting a quick glance at the barn, cursing because her horse was not in the paddock, where she might have been able to mount him and ride off.
The sound of a pistol shot reverberated behind her. Bark exploded from a tree ten feet from her. She ducked and ran to the left, heading for the forest. She knew this land better than anyone and prayed that she could lose Donaldson in the thick foliage. She entered the cool, shadowed forest and veered to the right, then to the left, zigzagging in case Donaldson had another pistol.
She could hear him crashing through the underbrush behind her, cursing and floundering. She ducked beneath a low-hanging branch, her foot catching on a raised tree root that sent her stumbling. She managed to catch herself by grabbing the nearest tree and pushed off it, propelling herself forward.
“Running is useless,” he yelled. “I’ll find you,Mrs. Campbell.”
She swallowed a sob and kept running. Her skirts snagged on branches, slowing her down.
She’d made a terrible mistake. She was heading northeast, and there was nothing for miles in this direction. She should have raced around the front of the house and taken his horse, but all she’d been able to think about was getting him away from the refugees.
Her feet were aching, her shoes not made to run through the forest. She stumbled but forced herself forward, lifting her skirts higher. Her breath was sawing in and out of her lungs, and her side ached but she pressed on.
Until she was grabbed from behind and spun around.
Chapter 29
Cait blindly struck out, but before she could make contact, Donaldson backhanded her. She stumbled backward. With his hand on her shoulder, he held her steady to deliver another blow to her face. She cried out, her cheek going numb, her vision blurring.
“Bitch,” he ground out. “Because of you, I’ve been banished to the savage regions of the northern Highlands.” He drew his arm back and slapped her open-palmed across the face, jerking her head sideways. She held her arms up to block his blows. “Because of you, I’ve lost the respect of my superiors.” Another slap to the side of the head. She cried out, stars dancing before her eyes, and she felt blood dripping down her cheek. “Because of you, my career is ruined.” This time he curled his fingers into a fist and punched her in the stomach. She folded nearly in half, retching and sobbing.
He wrapped his hand in her hair, which had fallen from its pins, yanking so that her neck was bent backward. He dragged her toward him, causing her to fall against him.
He shoved his face into hers. Spittle clung to the corners of his mouth. His teeth were yellowed, his breath sweet. She would have thought such a monster’s breath would be putrid, but surprisingly, it wasn’t.
“All you had to do was accept my attentions, and everything would have been well and good. But you ran to Palmer. Bloody, righteous Palmer, who spends far too much time with that Scottish bastard Campbell. They’re probably buggering each other.”
She laughed. She couldn’t help it. The blood was rushing through her veins so fast it was making her weak, and all she could do was laugh that Donaldson thought Palmer and Campbell were buggering each other.
He tightened his grip on her hair and she cried out, reaching up to uselessly pull at his hands. Good Lord, but he was going to kill her.
She didn’t want to die. She wanted to live. She wanted what Iain promised her.
He began dragging her and she had no choice but to stumble, half hunched over, behind him, barely able to keep up. She had to stop him. If she didn’t, he would have his way with her and then kill her.
She thought of Iain returning to the cottage to find her missing, the front door open, the back door open. It was a hollow feeling, knowing that she had been right: Eventually, she lost everyone she cared about. Except this time she was the one leaving.
Donaldson slowed down and looked around. “Where the hell are we?” he demanded. When she didn’t answer, he shook her and her head wobbled. She cried out. By now everything on her hurt. Her scalp, her face, her head. She was bruised and battered everywhere. “Tell me where we are, damn it!”
“I don’t know,” she said. “I can’t see to look around.”
He pulled her up until she was somewhat standing on her feet, her head still bent forward because of the hold he had on her hair.
“Look,” he demanded, shaking her head again.
“I…don’t know where we are. This doesn’t look familiar.” They were closer to her cottage; if he kept in this direction, he would miss it entirely and delve deeper into the forest. She wanted him far from the cottage. She wanted him lost, but she needed to know where she was.
“You’re lying,” he said with a deadly calm that made her heart race even more.
“I’m no’. I swear.”
“Dirty Scots. Can’t trust any of them.” He looked around again, and she wondered what his plan had been. Had he come to her cottage to kill her? Take advantage of her?
“Go that way.”
