“I have to....umm... I just need to leave the wagon. Very soon.”
Ewan cursed as he caught her meaning.
Catarina was the one who answered. “Then you’d best be making your man hand over his dagger.”
Nora looked up at him imploringly.
“Nora, I can’t give them my dagger. If I do that, we’re defenseless.”
“Ewan, I have to leave the wagon. I can’t wait much longer.”
The slot opened and a metal chamber pot was slid through it. “Never let it be said we lack mercy,” Catarina said.
“Oh but you can’t be serious,” Nora said as she eyed it with distaste. “I’ll not be using that with him in here with me.”
“I won’t look.”
Nora was aghast. The man was truly a barbarian to even suggest she do such a thing while they were in such tight quarters.
He was mad!
“Nay! I’ll not be using that. You hand over that dagger right now, Ewan MacAllister, or I swear I shall talk until your ears bleed.”
He grimaced at the threat.
She could see the indecision in his eyes.
“Ewan, please,” she tried again.
Growling under his breath, he removed the dagger from his boot again and handed it through the slot to the gypsies.
“Are you happy now?” he asked, his tone surly.
“Aye. Thrilled.” She turned back toward Catarina, “Now can I be let out?”
The door opened slowly to show Lysander and Bavel holding swords.
Nora descended the wagon and watched the men carefully.
Both men had their attention trained on Ewan who stood assessing them as well. He was coiled like a snake, ready to strike and both men knew it.
Nora bit her bottom lip as she weighed what she should do. Oh bother that, she knew what she needed to do. It was the only way to keep Ewan from attacking them and killing one of the fools.
Stumbling against Lysander, she caught his wrist that held the sword with her hand and gave a sharp twist.
The sword came free as she used her unexpected weight to off-balance him. She pulled her skirt up and wrapped it around her left hand, then turned to face Bavel whose face paled considerably as he looked about trying to decide if he should fight her or not.
Ewan was beside her in an instant. “Give me the sword.”
She stiffened at his implication. “You know, I am quite capable of fighting him. My aunt sent a tutor to me when I was scarce more than a child and at her behest, I studied for years even though it made my father livid that she would dare acquire such without his approval.”
“The sword, Nora. Now.”
She made a face at him as she handed him the sword hilt first. There was no use in arguing with him while they needed to escape. That wasted time, and the distraction would only get them taken again.
“Get him, Bavel,” Lysander said as he came to his feet.
The two men clashed swords.
