“What do you wish?” Eliza looked into Duncan’s amber eyes and saw the same longing that she was feeling. Could it be that he loved her?
“Nothing,” he replied. “I am thinking foolish thoughts. Tell me?—”
He got no further, for at that moment several things happened at once. He heard a whistling sound and felt a breath of air kiss his cheek as an arrow passed within inches of him. A moment later, another thudded into the ground beside his horse’s leg, and the animal let out a panicked neigh of alarm before trying to break into a gallop. Duncan managed to restrain him, but a second later several masked riders burst out of the trees, cutting off their escape.
Eliza screamed in fear. Her first instinct was to jump off the horse and run for her life, but later she realised how suicidal that would have been. The next few moments were a blur of noise and confusion, during which all reason and sense were chased away by sheer terror.
“Down!” Duncan yelled as he bent over Eliza, covering her body with his own to shield her from danger.
He was concentrating on keeping them both alive, but out of the corner of his eye he recognised the shape of an old broken down cart that someone had abandoned.
Without thinking twice, he leapt off his horse, dragging Eliza with him and pushing her behind the cart.
“Stay there!” he said grimly, before turning away.
Eliza tried to make herself as small as possible, screwing her eyes shut and clamping her hands over her ears so that she could neither hear nor see the sounds of steel clashing a few feet away from her. She had not been able to count the number of men who attacked them, but she knew that they were seriously outnumbered, and she feared for Duncan’s safety. Surely, he could not prevail against so many enemies?
As she heard blades clashing again, Eliza opened her eyes—she had to know if Duncan was managing to hold his own.
It took Duncan no more than a few moments to realise that the men against whom he was fighting were no match for him, and he dispatched one of them quickly with a swift stab to the heart with his sword. It was a quick and painless death—better than he deserved, Duncan thought.
The next attacker thought he could challenge Duncan from behind, but he whipped around and swiped his sword across his enemy’s neck, almost decapitating him. The man fell with a gurgling groan as blood spurted from his mouth, and Duncan finished him off with another thrust into his heart.
At that moment, however, another arrow flew and grazed his shoulder. Eliza screamed as it thudded into the wagon behind which she was sheltering. Although Duncan’s shoulder was bleeding, he reached for the dirks he kept tucked into his belt as another two attackers ran towards him.
He threw them both with unerring accuracy, hitting both men, one in the shoulder and one in the stomach. They did not look to have suffered serious wounds, but both collapsed, rendered completely helpless by their painful wounds, as Duncan disarmed them and retrieved his dirks.
He looked up just in time to see three other men disappearing into the trees, and for a moment, he contemplated following them, but decided not to. He was a skilled fighter andhad been well-armed, but he had no idea how many others were waiting in the woods, and decided to take no more chances.
Duncan moved over to the space behind the cart where Eliza was still curled up, then he gently drew her to her feet and into his arms.
“Are you hurt?” he asked anxiously.
“No,” Eliza replied, shaking her head, “but you are. You’re bleeding.”
Duncan looked down at the wound. “I’ll live. It looks worse than it is,” he said grimly. “Come, time to get back to the castle.”
He grabbed Eliza’s hand, and despite the obvious pain from his wound, he hauled her onto his horse, and they began to ride back to Lennoxburn Castle.
Duncan kept his broadsword drawn the whole time, and looked around warily as they rode along, but they were both silent. Afterwards, Eliza remembered nothing about the journey except an all-pervading fear. All her senses were numb; she would not have been able to tell where she was, even though she had travelled the road before. It was all a blur.
Duncan gritted his teeth against the pain in his shoulder and tried to ignore the blood welling from the wound. He was hurting, yes, but the real pain had been caused by his inability to protect Eliza. Why had he not anticipated this? He should have brought some trusted guards with them instead of sending them alongside the carriage which was taking Iona home. He was beginning to hate the pompous woman.
Why am I so stupid?he thought.I should have seen this coming. That was a prime spot for an ambush.
He felt wretched, especially when he sensed Eliza’s body trembling against him. He was a big man who would have been able to defend himself unarmed. He could not imagine the terror Eliza must have felt—especially since there was more than one way to assault a woman that would utterly break her.
The more he thought about it, the more filled with rage he became. Someone was going to pay for this, and when he found them, he was going to make such an example of them that no one would dare challenge him again.
They arrived at the castle, and Eliza breathed a long sigh of relief. However, when Duncan lifted her from the horse and set her down on the ground, Eliza could see how much blood he had lost. She was terrified at the sight.
“You should call for the healer,” she said urgently, reaching out to touch the wound. However, he jerked away from her, and Eliza’s eyes widened with shock.
“Duncan—” she said, but her words were cut short by the arrival of Iona.
She leapt out of the carriage, ignoring the groom who had been standing waiting to help her out, then marched across to them, her cheeks crimson and her eyes blazing with rage.
“Look what happens when you let a Sassenach ride beside you,” she cried, her voice shaking with fury. “Your people will never accept her. Send her back where she belongs! She is a curse on this clan!”
