“Look,” he hissed, then he gave the guard one final kick to the chest, causing him to lose his footing.
The guard’s arms flailed at once, and then, with a loud howl, he was gone.
There was only one guard left now. He crashed into Lachlan from behind, driving forward with desperate strength.
Lachlan grunted, his boots digging into the earth as he absorbed the impact. He twisted sharply, catching the man’s arms and wrenching him around with practiced ease.
“Ye should have used yer pistol,” he sneered, his forearm locking tight around the man’s throat.
“Enough!” Lord Norton barked, his voice cutting through the air like a blade.
Lachlan went still. He lifted his gaze to look at the man, his eyes blazing as though they could burn him to the ground.
Lord Norton aimed his pistol at Lachlan’s head, with no hesitation in his gaze.
He will shoot.
Lachlan’s eyes narrowed as he measured the distance between them. If he tried to dispose of the guard, he would not have enough time to escape Edmund’s shot. Not with him so close.
His grip loosened just slightly—a mistake on his part—and the guard jerked violently within his hold, twisting just enough to drag a blade across his thigh.
Lachlan groaned. Pain splintered through his leg, and his jaw clenched hard as his grip faltered. Warm blood soaked through his trews almost instantly, but he did not look down. Not while Marian was still inside the carriage.
Lord Norton’s fingers tightened on the trigger, and Lachlan tightened his grip on the guard’s neck again, even as the blade drove deeper into his thigh. He shifted his weight despite the pain.
The world seemed to narrow down to the barrel of the pistol as a shot rang out. But it was not Lord Norton’s pistol.
The guard in front of Lachlan jerked violently, his body going rigid right before he collapsed to the ground.
For a brief second, everything stilled. Then more shots followed in quick succession.
Lord Norton’s expression faltered. Lachlan looked up, his breathing still uneven as his eyes fell on them—Finn and a few dozen of his men. They hurried up the road, their horses’ hooves thundering against the ground.
Lord Norton staggered back a step, his pistol still raised, though his hand had now begun to tremble.
Lachlan straightened, stepping forward despite the pain in his leg. Lord Norton’s eyes darted between him and his men as they drew closer, his panic growing.
There was nowhere left to run.
“Drop it!” Finn barked, his voice sharp as steel as he leveled his weapon.
For a moment, Lord Norton hesitated. His eyes flicked back to Lachlan, then the pistol slipped from his fingers, hitting the ground with a dull thud.
Lachlan walked past him without sparing him another glance, heading straight toward the carriage.
“Bind him,” he ordered, without looking back. “If he moves, kill him.”
CHAPTER FORTY
Lachlan wrenched open the carriage door with a force that made the hinges groan in protest. His chest tightened as his eyes fell on Marian, and her name slipped past his lips before he could stop it.
“Mairi…”
His heart twisted painfully at the sight before him, and for a moment, his body forgot how to move.
Marian lay crumpled against the far side of the carriage, bound at her wrists and knees just as he had seen through the window of the receiving chamber. Her head had tipped at an uncomfortable angle, and her hair had spread across her face, obscuring most of it.
Lachlan swallowed thickly, his throat tightening.
