But her words were lost in the violent crash of thunder as a deluge of rain poured from the skies. The ground seemed to shake with the sudden fury of the storm.
Her mother’s terrified scream, however, alerted Meg to the fact that the shaking was from more than just a storm.
Still, it took her a moment to comprehend what was happening, so suddenly had it begun. One minute she’d been about to take her mother to task for her matchmaking ways, the next she was in the midst of a nightmare.
Out of the shadows, like demon riders on the storm, the band of ruffians attacked. Huge, savage-looking men in filthy shirts and tattered plaids, wielding deadly claymores with ruthless intent. They seemed to fly from the trees, surrounding Meg’s party in all directions.
Her cry froze in her throat, terror temporarily rendering her mute. For a minute, she couldn’t think. Watching helplessly as the dozen clansmen her father sent along to protect them were locked in a battle of untempered ferocity against at least a score of brigands.
Her blood ran cold.
There were too many of them.
Dear God, her father’s men had no chance.The Mackinnon clansmen had immediately moved to protect Meg and her mother, circling them as best they could in the confined area. And one by one, they were cut down in front of her.
Meg gazed in rapt horror as Ruadh, one of her father’s chieftains, a man she’d known her entire life, a man who’d bounced her on his knee and sung her songs of the clan’s illustrious past, was unable to block the deadly strike of a claymore that slid across his belly, cutting him nearly in two. Tears sprang to her eyes as she watched the light slowly fade from his gaze.
Her mother’s scream sliced through the terror, jolting Meg from her stupor. The moment of panic dissolved in a sudden burst of clarity. She gathered her courage, with only one thought: protecting her mother.
Heart pounding, Meg leapt down from her horse and grabbed the dirk from Ruadh’s lifeless hand, his fingers still clenched around the bloody hilt. The weapon felt so heavy and clumsy in her hand. For the first time in her life, she wished she hadn’t lingered so long indoors with her books. She had no experience with weaponry of any sort. She shook off the bout of uncertainty. It didn’t matter. What she lacked in skill she would make up for in raw determination. Clasping the dirk more firmly, she moved to stand before her mother, ready to defend her.
They’ll have to kill me first,she vowed silently.
But a bit of her bravado faltered when another of her father’s men fell at her feet. The way it was going, it might not be long before they did. Only six of her father’s men remained.
Thearisaidhhad slid from her head, and rain streamed down her face, blurring her vision. The pins holding back her hair were long gone, and the wavy tendrils tangled in her lashes, but Meg hardly noticed, focused as she was on the battle. The battle that was tightening like a noose around them, as their circle of protectors quickly diminished.
She bit back the fear that crept up the back of her throat. Never had she been more terrified. But she had to stay strong. For her mother. If they were to have a chance to survive.
Meg’s action seemed to snap her mother from her trance, and she stopped screaming. Following Meg’s lead, she slipped down from her horse. Meg could see her hands shaking as she pulled Ruadh’s eating knife from his belt.
Meg turned, and her chest squeezed to see the resolve on her mother’s face. To see the direness of their circumstance reflected in her gaze. Even drenched, her hair and clothes a sodden mess, Rosalind Mackinnon looked like an angel—albeit an avenging angel. Though she was forty, her beauty was undiminished by age.Dear God,
what would these vicious brutes do to her?Meg swallowed.To them both?
Though Meg knew her mother must be thinking the same thing, her voice was strangely calm. “If you see an opening between them, run,” she whispered.
“But I can’t leave you—”
Her mother cut off her protest. “You will do as I say, Margaret.” Meg was so shocked by the steel in her dulcet tone that she simply nodded. “If you need to use the knife, strike hard and do not hesitate.”
Meg felt an unexpected swell of pride. Her sweet, gentle mother looked as fierce as a lioness protecting her cub. There was far more to Rosalind Mackinnon than Meg had ever realized.
“I won’t,” she said, feigning courage. But what chance did two women, and two particularly diminutive ones at that, have against such strength and numbers?
A filthy, hulking ruffian lurched for her mother. Without thinking, Meg stabbed his arm. It was a good effort. At least three of the ten inches sank deep in his skin, opening a wide gash in his forearm. He roared in pain and backhanded her across the face. Stunned by the blow, she lost her grip on the dirk and it dropped to the ground, where he promptly kicked it out of her reach.
Meg’s hand instinctively covered her wet cheek, soothing the hot sting.
“Bitch,” he spat. “You’ll die for that.” He turned, lifting his claymore in a deadly arc above her head. Her mother moved to defend her, slicing his shoulder with the eating knife. Easily blocking the blow with his forearm, he shoved her mother harshly to the ground. Meg watched in horror as her head landed squarely on a rock, connecting with a dull thud.
Horror rose in her throat. “Mother!” she screamed, rushing to her side. Meg shook her listless body, but her eyes wouldn’t open.Dear God, no!
She sensed him, or rather smelled his rank stench, approaching behind her. Anger unlike anything she’d ever experienced flooded her with rage. He’d hurt her mother. Grabbing the knife that her mother had dropped, Meg turned on him, surprising him for a moment. She stabbed him again, this time aiming for his neck. But he was too tall, and without leverage, she managed only to nick him.
She’d lost her advantage.
A vile expletive ripped from his mouth. She felt his enormous dirty hands on her as he grabbed her and tossed her to the ground. His hard black eyes fixed on her. A sneer curled his lip, revealing coarse brown teeth. Shivering with revulsion, she huddled in a ball as he started toward her.
