Run,her instinct urged, but her eyes measured the distance, the uneven ground and the weight of the cloak at her shoulders.
Could she outrun them? Perhaps one. Never all three.
The thought settled with startling calm. Then she would die trying, because a life bound to Lachlan MacKenzie was no life at all.
One of the men stepped forward, like a hunter threatening cornered prey. “Ye’ve caused enough trouble,” he mocked. “Are ye ready tae follow us back where ye belong?”
Something fierce and unyielding rose in her chest, burning away the fear.
“Never,” Elaina snarled.
She wrenched her cloak free, letting it fall to the stones. Her hands clenched, and her breath steadied as her mother’s voice echoed in her mind:dinnae wait fer mercy, demand yer own.
If this was the end of her flight, then she would meet it standing. And she would not go down lightly.
CHAPTER TWO
Elaina’s breath came shallow and fast as the men closed in. The alley was shrinking until there seemed no space left for choice. Stone pressed at her back, damp and unyielding, while the night was thick with the scent of refuse and rain. The glint of steel moved closer.
This is it,she thought, with a clarity so sharp it almost steadied her.Run or fight. There is naething else.
One of them stepped forward. Another shifted to her left, cutting off the last illusion of escape. She raised her hands, not in surrender, but in balance. Her every sense was honed, and her every muscle taut.
Then a cry split the air.
It was sharp and sudden. It was the sound of pain torn loose rather than given. A dagger clattered to the ground as one of the men staggered back, his hand flying to his arm. He collapsedheavily to his knees, swearing, while blood was slowly darkening his sleeve.
For a heartbeat, no one moved. Elaina stared, stunned and uncertain what had happened. She couldn’t hear anything from her own pulse roaring in her ears.
Then, she saw him… a figure standing behind them, half-shadowed by the alley’s mouth.
The man from the tavern.
He regarded the scene with an expression so calm it bordered on disinterest, as though he had merely interrupted an inconvenience.
“Ye ken,” he said mildly, “three men against one woman says a great deal about yer character and none of it flattering.”
One of the remaining men spun around with his blade raised and surprise flashing across his face. The other reacted faster. A rough arm locked around Elaina’s shoulders, yanking her back against a solid chest. Cold steel kissed her throat.
Her breath caught, pain flaring where the edge pressed just hard enough to warn.
“Another step,” the man snarled, “and she bleeds.”
Her savior stopped at once. The air seemed to tighten around him. Gone was the easy humor and the careless charm. His gaze fixed on the man holding her. His green-hazel eyes were sharp now, as hard as tempered steel.
“Let her go,” he ordered.
The man laughed. She could feel his breath against her ear as he spoke. “Or what?”
The man from the tavern exhaled slowly, almost wearily. “Or this becomes unpleasant.”
Elaina’s heart hammered so violently she was certain they could all hear it. She forced herself not to struggle, not to give the man any excuse to draw the blade tighter. She locked her gaze with her savior’s. In them she saw something that frightened her nearly as much as the knife at her throat. It was not fear, but certainty that bordered on foolishness. For he, too, was one man against two.
The grip around her body tightened menacingly. “Ye should have minded yer own business.”
The man from the tavern inhaled deeply. “I tried that earlier taenight with that very lass standing next tae ye… I have tae say, it didnae suit me, nor daes this.”
The moment stretched, fragile as glass. Then, he moved.
