She stumbled over a rock and caught herself on a nearby tree. In the moment of silence as she regained her balance, she heard something behind her, but she didn’t dare to look and see what it was.
She already knew. She knew it would be him, coming to claim what he so clearly thought belonged to him, and she would not make this easy for him, not if she could do anything about it.
Her breath was caught in her throat as she ran, her blood screaming around her head like a drumbeat. But she was free, at least for now, free from the confines of that stuffy carriage. Her dress tore at the waist, leaving a streak of skin exposed to the cold air, but she paid it no attention. She owed it to herself to run. Even if she did not get away, she owed it to herself to try, and she would not stop until she was sure she had done all she could to?—
Suddenly, she felt a hand on her arm, its grip so strong that it jerked her back in a single motion. She cried out, trying to pull herself loose, but it was too powerful.
And she knew at once, even before he pinned her to the tree to reveal himself, that it was him. Her heart dropped as Tavish stood before her, one hand gripping her arm, the other planted against the trunk behind her.
“Let me go,” she snarled at him, mustering every inch of fight she had left in her.
He chuckled.
“Aye, run again, lass,” he taunted her. “I’ll catch ye every time. Ye’re to be my bride. Nothing ye can do will change that.”
“Yer bride?” she echoed, almost laughing at the ridiculousness of it.
A bride… that spoke to some level of care, of love, of adoration between the people who were to be wed, but he saw her as nothing more than an animal pinned by his arrow.
“That was just a claim ye made for the guests at the feast. No man would ride ahead of his bride like that unless he were a coward.”
She spat the final word, making sure that he could feel it, and she could tell it stung. He pushed in closer to her, the hand on her arm moving down to her waist, barely grazing the bare skin that had been exposed by the branch that had snagged on her dress. She could feel the heat burning against her, their faces so close that their noses were almost touching, their breath mingling as they stared each other down.
If she gave him an inch, she knew that he would take a mile, and she could not risk that. She had to make a statement here, now, that she would not be controlled by him.
“A coward, am I?” he growled. “Go. Run again. And I’ll show ye what kind of a coward I am?—”
But before he could continue with his threats, something whizzed through the air beside them. Instinctively, he twisted his body to cover hers, keeping her pinned against the tree. It was so fast that she did not have time to make sense of what it was, but he did.
“Arrow fire,” he spat.
Another arrow flew across them, this time snagging his shoulder and tearing through his shirt. A bloom of bright red blood spewed from the spot that had been torn. She gasped, clapping a hand to her mouth, and he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her against him.
“Stay close to me,” he ordered.
This time, she did not think to fight him. He might have been a danger to her, but at least he was a danger she understood. Whoever was shooting arrows at them, she was not sure she could trust herself with them.
He drew his sword in a single motion, the dark metal glinting like bared teeth in the shadows cast by the trees. Just thenanother arrow whipped out through the foliage, and he moved to shield her again. He let out a loud grunt of pain as the wound spewed more crimson blood.
He forced her behind him as he took off through the trees, searching out the cause of the attack. When he found a man hidden in the bough of an old oak, he grasped him by the hair and yanked him down, bringing him to his knees before he forced his sword to his throat.
“How many of ye are there?” he barked through gritted teeth.
She peeped around his shoulder and could see the terror in the man’s face as he realized just who he had managed to attack.
“Five, but?—”
Tavish did not hesitate as he dragged his blade across his throat in a single motion, and the man clasped for his neck, trying to contain the pouring scarlet that tumbled from between his fingers as he fell to the ground. His bow dropped from his shoulder, the arrows spilling out across the ground below, and all she could do was stare in horror as Tavish caught her arm.
“Only five,” he muttered as he drew her close again.
She could feel his heart pounding in his chest, but he showed no fear or pain on his face, containing it like he was nothing more than a vessel for such terror.
“But there’s only one of ye, Tavish,” she hissed at him, keeping her voice low so as not to attract more attention.
“It’s enough,” he replied, moving through the forest and back towards the road with the practiced skill of someone who knew exactly what it meant for the hunted to turn into the hunter.
His eyes were cold and nearly black as he cut down another man from the trees, running him through with his sword without a word, and snatching up the man’s fallen dagger as he tumbled from the branches.
