He didn’t find her right away, but then he spotted a small tent farther back within the trees. She had to be inside, but with who? Was Roddie inside having his way with her? Darach had to get to her with haste.
Silent as the sunset, he crept along the ground and reached two Menzies sharing a drink and some laughter at the outskirts of the camp. He released Janet’s daggers from where they were tucked in his belt and flipped them both end over end. Catching the hilts in his hands, he drove them into his victims’ backs, yanked them out, and continued on toward the tent.
He heard the muffled grunts of Will and the others taking down more of the Menzies, but he didn’t stop to take notice. He sliced his way through three more men before the rest in the camp realized they were being attacked… again.
The Menzies fought back as best they could but they were no match for Darach’s skill and raw determination to get Janet back. Will and his cousins took down six more, with one of their own—Andrew was his name—taking a blade through the thigh. Two more were bearing down on Kevin, who stood between Darach and the tent, but with a swoosh of his claymore, Darach left one bent over and bleeding out on the forest floor. The other went down easily enough with a blade to the throat and a merciless kick to the ground.
By the time he reached the tent, Darach still hadn’t seen any sign of Roddie. The bastard had to be inside.
With a stalled breath, Darach pulled open the flap, trying to prepare himself for what he might see. He didn’t note right away that Roddie wasn’t there. All he saw was Janet standing in the corner, her mouth gagged, his plaid tightly wrapped around her, binding her with a length of rope into a cocoon of wool.
And what looked like a huge purple welt on her bonny face.
He stopped in his tracks. She’d been struck. His heart went black. He knew how close she’d come to dying and the thought of it nearly drove him mad. War or not, he was going to kill Roddie Menzie for touching her.
He heard a sound behind him as he rushed toward her, and then the shooting pain of something hard hitting his head.
Chapter Fifteen
Janet watched Darach come toward her. Her heart was torn between the joy and relief of seeing him and the terror of knowing two of Roddie’s men were waiting for him in the shadows of the tent. She wanted to cry out. She tried, but with the knotted rope in her mouth it was impossible to form any intelligible words. She jumped up and down in place and motioned with her head for him to turn around. If she had to watch Darach die, she would never recover.
He must have understood her meaning because he ducked just in time to avoid having his skull smashed open by Donald Menzie’s hilt. Still, the metal struck him and he nearly went down. Janet screamed as the second man, John Menzie, leaped away from the shadows and into the fray. He grabbed Darach’s arm and tried to pull him down, but her Highlander didn’t budge. With his eyes fixed on her, he hauled Donald over his shoulder and smashed him into the ground. While Donald was still gasping, Darach turned to John and thrust his dagger into John’s chest. Donald scrambled to get to his feet but Darach’s merciless claymore stopped him.
Janet watched it all, terrified, unable to breathe. When Donald and John lay dead at Darach’s feet, he moved toward her again.
She wept while he freed her mouth of her binds and when he cut her free of the ropes she flung herself into his arms.
“Ye came fer me.”
“Of course I did, m’ love.” He held her tight, as if she meant more to him than he would ever admit. He placed tender kisses on her head and spoke softly, asking her how badly she was hurt and if the bastard had touched her in any lewd way. When she reassured him that her captor hadn’t and that she was not as bad as she looked, he traced his fingertips over her bruised face, then looked away as if the sight of her broke his heart. “Where is he?”
“I do not know,” she told him. “He left about an hour ago. He did not say where he was going.”
She was about to ask him if he’d stormed the campsite alone and killed all the men outside when her brother plunged inside the tent with her cousin Kevin directly behind him. Will looked at her, wrapped like a mummy in a Highland plaid, encased in Darach Grant’s arms, and took a tentative step forward.
“Janet… I… Are ye…” He stumbled around his words and she smiled and met him the rest of the way. He took her in his arms, his expression almost as black as Darach’s at the bruise on her face. Then he let his gaze sweep over her covering. “Did Menzie… did he defile ye?”
She shook her head. Had Darach told him that he’d claimed her? Did Will know that she was now considered Darach’s wife? She didn’t think he had. It was best. Too much for one day. They would tell him later.
“I just want to go home,” she told them both.
“There are a lot of dead bodies outside,” her brother told her, then looked at Darach. “Roddie is not among them.”
Darach nodded, suspecting as much. “I’ll find him.”
“Nae.” Janet turned to him. “I want ye to return to Ravenglade with us. I need ye there with me.”
Darach shook his head. He wouldn’t take the chance of leaving Roddie alive and out there, somewhere. “I want his head on the end of m’ sword.”
“Please, Darach,” she said, “leave him to tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow could be too late.”
She was angry with him and pulled herself free of him. She stepped around her brother and when she looked at Darach again, he was already looking at her. He appeared worried, but determined. She was afraid for him. One against so many. He’d be killed.
“Janet,” Will said in front of her. “Go with Kevin to the horses. I wish to have a word with Mr. Grant.”
“Nae, Will. If ye are going to discuss me, which I suspect ye are, I want to hear what’s being discussed.”
