Finding a way to escape MacKay was taking Mariota longer than she’d hoped it would. She couldn’t free Valkyrie, claim a horse, and get all three out of the keep, herself included, without garnering too much notice. Her father had laid down the law with the guards. Under no circumstances was she to leave the keep. Not alone and not with anyone else, especially Seamus, who had been relegated to the nighttime watch, though perhaps to soften the blow, he’d been named chief of the watch. She was sorry for the trouble she’d caused him, but her da could have done worse.
Alber had been under the care of the healer. Despite all the blood Mariota had seen and her da’s claim that he’d been found near death, his injuries were not as serious as she’d imagined. In Valkyrie’s favor, he’d never look the same again, not that Mariota thought he’d been an attractive man to start with. Her hawk’s claw marks would scar his neck. The chunks the raptor had torn out of his face would heal, but would leave unsightly pits on the side opposite the Harlaw scar. Bruises, though those would fade, further detracted from his appearance. So she’d been told. She hadn’t been foolish enough to get anywhere near his chamber.
He was under no such compunction. Mariota found him waiting outside her chamber after the evening meal the day after he was brought back to the keep.
“What are ye doing here?” She shouted at him, hoping someone would hear and come to her aid.
“I’ve come to finish the business between us. Yer damned bird did this to me,” he said and lifted a hand to his face, open wounds seeping still.
Hadn’t the healer bandaged them? Or had he torn the covers off to try to frighten her with his grotesque appearance.
“She protected me.”
“She’s no’ here now.” He moved more quickly than she thought him capable of, grabbed her arm and forced her against the wall, his other hand splayed over her face, fingers gripping the sides of her head in a punishing show of strength she feared would crack her skull. “Ye are mine and ye owe me. I’ll make ye hurt as yer damn bird hurt me, then I’ll have ye.”
Mariota tried to scream, but he flattened his palm against her nose and mouth, denying her breath. She was on her own. But she’d beaten him before, once by herself and once with Valkyrie’s help. She’d do it again.
She tried to twist away, but it was a ruse and he fell for it, stepping wide to contain her as she writhed. With no mercy, she kneed him between the legs, surprised he fell for the same maneuver again.
His howl echoed down the hallway. She suspected it could be heard in the great hall. In moments, running footsteps proved her right.
“I owe ye naught and will never wed with ye,” she spat. “I dinna ken what is wrong with ye. But ye got what ye deserved.”
Two men reached her first, followed by two more and several women.
“He attacked me again,” she said. “I stopped him.”
The women took in Alber lying on the floor, hands between his legs cupping himself, tears mixing with the blood seeping from his face from his fall and laughed. “Ye got him good, lass.”
“Get him away from me, please. Lock him in his chamber and tell my da.”
“We’ll take care of him,” one of the men said, his frown at Alber promising something other than care. He nodded to the others and they dragged Alber down the hall toward the stairs. In moments, she heard the hard thump, thump, thump that told her they dragged himdownthem, too.
So, she wasn’t the only one having trouble with him.
“Did he hurt ye?” One of the older women asked in a sympathetic tone, reaching out to touch her arm.
“He tried,” Mariota told her and the others who remained. “I didna let him.”
“Ye are a braw lass,” one of the others said. “I canna imagine fighting off a man that size.”
“Thank ye.” Her pulse pounding in her ears, she added, “I’d like to go rest now, but later, I’ll be happy to show ye what Cook taught me. Or ye can ask her.” She wrapped her arms around her waist to keep them from seeing her tremble.
With understanding nods, they left her in her chamber. She locked the door and gave in to a fit of shakes, angry tears stinging the corners of her eyes. She was out of time. Once Alber recovered, no matter what her father might say or do, he’d come after her again.
A knock on her door startled her. Not Alber, please! Nay, he wouldn’t knock. “Who is it?”
“Yer da sent me to guard yer door, lass. Ye’ll be safe.” She recognized the voice of one of the men who’d carried off Alber. So, she was confined to her chamber after all.
Left with no alternative, she waited until midnight, made a rope out of bedsheets and with her few belongings wrapped ina spare plaid tied on her back, climbed out of her window and down to the bailey. The night was quiet and the guards’ attention was outside the walls, not inside, so she was able to sneak to the mews and free Valkyrie. Outside, she tossed her skyward, knowing the hawk would keep pace with her. If Mariota was caught, the hawk would return to the mews by morning. The stable tempted her, but she knew she’d never get out with her horse. Keeping to the shadows, she hurried to the postern gate, and once through it, made her way on foot to the village, staying under the trees and out of sight of the guards on the keep’s walls. She knew the value of a horse to each villager, and she hated to do it, but she was desperate. She saddled and stole one she knew, vowing to return it as soon as she could. After leading it quietly away from the village and the MacKay keep before mounting it, she rode into the night.
Stellanand his men continued to hunt, making their way slowly back toward the keep with the buck tied over the back of one of the horses. They’d stopped only once to field dress the buck when he was certain they were far enough into Sutherland territory the MacKays wouldn’t dare follow. Hoisting it up by its hind legs and a rope slung over a tree branch, they cut its throat and drained its blood, gutted it and left the entrails for the local predators. Then they’d moved away and found a spot near a burn to get some sleep before continuing their journey home.
Stellan woke to a guard’s hand on his shoulder, early sunlight in his eyes, and the sound of a horse moving nearby rustling in the undergrowth beyond their camp, headed their way. With no fire to warn of their presence, he expected the rider would beon them in moments. He stood and toed two more men awake. “Someone’s coming,” he told them quietly.
They nodded, got up, and soundlessly reached for weapons.
Stellan bit back an oath when a lass on a stocky draft horse stumbled on their camp. She looked half asleep and barely aware enough of her surroundings to avoid getting knocked off by tree branches as she rode. Her mount looked more suited to pulling a plow than carrying a rider. This lass was no threat to anyone but herself. Why was she out here alone?
