Abby felt her own cheeks fill with heat. She giggled, glancing at Iain’s regal profile. She hoped Iain hadn’t seen whatever the women in the wagon apparently viewed in her eyes.
What was she doing? She couldn’t get starry-eyed and swoon over some barbarian. For her own sake, she had to get back to her own time. She wanted to tell the women they were mistaken but, how could she? They thought she and Iain were married and presumably in love. Abby growled inwardly. She hated lying to these wonderful people.
Shouts broke her reverie. A band of dirty, hairy men clad in all different tartans had surrounded the caravan. Abby counted seven, but there could have been more still concealed in the woods.
They were on foot but still outnumbered the caravan’s men. Although, seeing the near uncontrolled fury on Colin and his sons’ faces, she realized that if the MacDonalds were armed, they would already be fighting. But their weapons were in the back of the wagon, safely wrapped in blankets away from the prying eyes of the English.
Colin tried to talk with the bandits. “Whit is it ye want?”
“Coin,” the giant red-haired man who seemed to be theleader said.
“And yer ’orses,” a dark-haired man said.
Tavis stopped the wagon.
“Get oot,” one of the long-haired brigands roared at the women.
Abby glared at them. They were huge.
He growled again, “Get oot!”
The red-haired oaf was staring intently at Abby. She lowered her eyes. She didn’t have her bag, or the pepper spray she kept there, and they were barbarians with weapons they knew how to use—weapons they enjoyed using.
Mary gazed at Colin. He nodded, tilting his head, indicating they should get off the other side of the wagon.
Keeping Blair under her arm, Mary nudged her daughter-in-law. They jumped over the side and scrambled together in a tight group.
Colin leapt off his horse. The redhead waved his sword at him. Colin held up his hands, showing he had no intention of disobeying the man, and edged along the wagon. “Fenella,” he said, holding his hands up to help her to the ground.
As soon as her feet hit the ground, Colin pushed her down, growling, “Go to the women.”
Fenella, fear brightening her eyes, crawled under the wagon to the other side.
Redhead roared a laugh. “We dinnae take auld women.” His narrow gaze turned to a leer as he eyed Lara.
Parlin dismounted with a thump, taking Redhead’s attention off his wife.
Abby hesitated.
She pushed a sword blade back under the blanket with her foot and searched for Iain. He had dismounted but stood close to his horse’s side, his eyes full of black anger. Two bandits stood between her and the Scottish laird. She slipped down off the wagon, and Mary pulled her into the huddle.
Tavis also dismounted and stood beside Colin, who untied a bag of coin from his belt. He rested one arm along the side of the wagon as if they were just having a friendly chat, and handed the bag to Redhead, indicating that the others should do the same.
Two of the long-haired rogues sauntered closer to the women. The short black-haired fiend leered at Lara and licked his lips.
Abby glanced at Iain. His jaw was set hard. Something inside Abby told her of all the men she had known, Iain would protect her, but he was too far away, and without a weapon, he had no chance of besting the bandits. Mary tried to push Lara behind her, but the short man shoved Mary to the side so hard, she fell to the ground, a noisy gasp of air escaping from her throat.
He advanced on Lara.
Abby pounced between the girl and the bandit. “Leave her alone.”
He laughed.
The other men joined him in laughter.
Catching his breath, Short Man said, “Ye be an eager one.”
“Give her what she wants,” one of them called.
