Colin led the small group along the narrow path deeper into the forest. The light wind gently rustled the leaves on the forest floor. The bluebells and primroses of spring were long forgotten, replaced by foxglove, thistles, wood sage, and now russet-colored clumps of heather. The floor of the forest was peppered with large black mushrooms. Relaxed by the lush beauty surrounding her and the gentle sway of her palfrey as the horse expertly picked along the uneven path, lost in daydreams, Isabel startled at the sudden standstill. She glanced up to see Colin raise his hand in warning for silence.
Something was wrong.
An unnatural quiet seemed to have smothered the small chirping sounds of the forest, eerily reminding Isabel of the strange stillness in the air that often preceded a fearsome storm—when the creatures of nature flee, having sensed danger before man. Instinctively, she held her breath, straining to hear something. Now fully alert, she searched the trees but found nothing out of the ordinary. Assuming that perhaps Colin had just spotted a deer in the foliage ahead, she exhaled and slowly relaxed back in the saddle.
Right before the gates of hell flew open.
Alex’s arm unexpectedly whipped out to push her face forward against her horse only moments before the quiet hiss of an arrow whizzed above her. Precisely in the space previously occupied by her head.
“Damn.” She heard Alex swear, her head still planted firmly on the mane of the mare. The gentle teasing voice was gone, replaced by the hard, decisive voice of authority. “Colin, take Margaret and Isabel and make for the landing. Bring help. I’ll stay behind and try to hold them back.” He swatted Isabel’s mare on the rump. “Go. Quick. Ride as fast as you can.”
At the harsh physical command, her mare leapt forward frantically. Fighting to stay seated, Isabel grabbed the reins of the terrified horse while trying desperately to settle it down. She eased back the reins, gradually able to slow the frenzied pace. Just ahead of her, Colin yanked Margaret’s horse forward and disappeared into the dense forest.Wait,she scolded herself as a flash of clearheadedness broke through the chaos. This was her fault. She couldn’t leave Alex alone. Heedless of the danger, she turned the horse around and started back toward Alex.
They had surrounded him, but Alex was holding his own, fighting the men back with the broad swing of his sword. He’d almost broken free when he caught sight of her, and his eyes narrowed ominously. “What the hell do you think you are doing—” His voice broke off as the blow of a claymore on his back stunned him, but it was the following blow to the head that knocked him from his saddle. He fell unconscious to the ground.
“Nooooo!Alex. Oh God, please.” Her hands flew to her face in horror as she opened her mouth to scream, and for a moment the shock was so great that no sound came forth. She was nearly overcome with fear for Alex, but after a brief feeling of paralysis, something akin to calmness took over her movements. Strangely disembodied from the horror and fear surrounding her, Isabel found herself filled with a fierce determination, like a warrior in the midst of battle—she knew what she had to do. She had to compose herself and help him.
She jumped from the saddle, hastening to where Alex lay twisted and dreadfully still in a pile of dirt and leaves. She was so focused on reaching Alex, she didn’t notice that she was surrounded by a handful of terrifying-looking clansmen until it was too late. She was just about to reach out for Alex when she was jerked harshly into the hold of a dirty, crude-looking warrior. When she met his gaze, she flinched. He had the eyes of a dead herring.
“What have we here? Looks like a wee bit of bonny entertainment for the afternoon.” His ugly, lecherous gaze traveled down her face. “Seems we have found ourselves a fine beauty. I’ll wager whoever you belong to will be anxious to get you back and willing to pay for it. Although I hope it’s not that one, lass,” he said, motioning to where Alex lay. “He’s not likely to claim you anytime soon…if ever.” His sour breath hissed in her ear. Isabel recoiled visibly from the menace curdling his voice.
Inwardly, she cursed her foolishness in leaving her bow and arrows on the palfrey. Her instincts had failed her, but the attack had happened so quickly. “Unhand me. Can’t you see this man is hurt? He needs me. Let me go.” She tried to wrench her body away from his hold, but he was too strong and was gripping her too tightly.
The warrior laughed unpleasantly. “Don’t you worry about him. He won’t need you where he is going.” Cruelly, he kicked Alex’s unmoving body.
Isabel was relieved to hear the pained groan. Alex had been lying so still, she’d been afraid he was already dead. The blow had probably just knocked him out, but they would not let him live. She had to do something. If she hadn’t begged Alex to leave Dunvegan, none of this would have happened. Anguished guilt mingled with helplessness. “Who are you? What do you want with me?”
“I’ve already told you what we want from you, a wee bit of sport.” He smiled, revealing the stumps of his crooked brown teeth. “As for the other, who doyouthink we are? Who would be bold enough to raid MacLeod lands in the middle of the day?” The arrogance spewing from the swarthy clansman was great.
“Mackenzies,” Isabel hissed.
“Ah, so our reputation precedes us. And who might you be, my beauty?” He considered her appearance, noting the quality of her garments. “Obviously a lady.” He reached out to stroke her breast with his rough, dirty fingers. “A lady with the body of a whore.”
Instinctively, Isabel swatted his hand away. He retaliated swiftly, cuffing her brutally on the chin. Her head whipped backward with the power of the blow, knocking her hair loose from its ribbons. If possible, the lewd stares of the men became even more filled with lust.
Although dazed from the blow, she swore, “If you touch me again, I’ll kill you.”
A deadly silence followed her pronouncement, as the rest of the men waited for the reaction of their leader. His bawdy laughter rang out at her threat. “Ah, we have found ourselves a wee firebrand. You’ll be a pleasure to tame, my sweet, but heed this warning. Do not anger me, or I may begin your lessons right here. I ask you again, what is your name and who will claim you? The truth, gel, or you will know my wrath.”
Isabel debated her answer, quickly weighing whether the truth would help or hinder her in this situation. Apparently, she was taking more time than he had allotted, because she found herself yanked back by her hair, pulled against his sweaty body as his hand ripped open the bodice of her riding habit. His grimy fingers reached under her sark and clawed roughly at her breast, jagged nails scratching the delicate skin. Isabel felt sickened by his touch; nausea spread up her throat, and she knew she was near to retching.
“Enough. Your name, or do you require more persuasion?”
“Isabel.”
“Well, Isabel, who will claim you?”
“Rory MacLeod. I am wife to the MacLeod.” She lifted her chin as if to challenge him. Her voice sounded small but held a touch of defiance.
Astonished by her claim, the man abruptly released her. He was obviously displeased and appeared uncertain as to whether she should be believed. Isabel could see the thoughts running through his mind. Rory MacLeod was a powerful adversary. Relieving him of a few head of cattle was one thing, relieving him of his wife…Well, he would be a hunted man. Taking his wife would make him an enemy for a lifetime—likely a short lifetime.
The Mackenzie clansman crossed his arms and stared at her for a moment before coming to his decision. “You lie. The wife of the MacLeod would never be left to roam the forests with such a paltry escort. He would be a foolish man to leave such a tempting treat behind while he dallies with Argyll. More likely is that you are his leman.” He reached out and twisted a clump of her unbound hair painfully in his fist. His eyes filled with lust and excitement as he said with a chilling leer, “I did warn you to speak the truth.”
Isabel tried to talk, tried to explain that she was speaking true, but his fetid mouth pressed against hers, crushing her lips violently as she was thrown roughly to the ground. His huge body landed in a harsh thud on top of hers. The weight of his limbs crushed her, pushing her deep into the unforgiving ground. His beard tore at her face as he kissed her.
For a moment she wanted to die, before the fight for life took over.
She fought like a tiger, scratching and clawing at his face, but he clasped her hands above her head and tossed up her skirt, tearing quickly through the layers of undergarments to reach bare skin. Panic rose in her throat and threatened to spill. She felt his fingers grabbing at the soft skin of her bottom, lifting her hips toward his. Through a tunnel of disbelief, she heard his lusty groans mixed with the laughter of his men as he raised his plaid and pushed his hard member against her closed legs, trying to force them open. She felt his coarse hair against her legs as one hand reached down to try to separate her clamped legs.
