She smiled. “See? ’Twas no’ so hard to answer.”
He rolled his eyes and shook his head. It was going to be a long ride.
“I hope Anna, Fina, and Seema will feel better soon. ’Tis odd that they fell ill, is it no’?”
When he didn’t answer, she kept talking and answering her own questions. “And that we havenae.”
And that was how they rode for the next few hours. While she yammered on constantly, he was trying to listen to their surroundings. Not an easy task since it appeared the lass didn’t ken how to be quiet. Danger could be lurking in the shadows.
Moira may be a Hart and leading him into an ambush, but at this time, she was still his ward, and he would ensure her safety.
“Are ye listening? I feel like ye are ignoring me.”
“I am no’ ignoring ye.”
“Ye arenae listening to me, though.”
Errol stiffened as he heard a twig crack.
He looked at Moira and put his index finger to his lips, signaling her to be quiet.
At first, she looked confused and then she must have understood because her eyes grew round as platters. She moved to look around, but he called her name so she would keep her attention on him.
He was almost positive they were being followed. He didn’t want their stalkers to ken he was aware of their presence. Slowly, he moved his hand to his sword and rested his palm on the hilt, ready to withdraw it.
Moira’s eyes tracked his movements, and she leaned forward, feigning that she was petting her mare, and pulled a dagger from her boot and hid it up her sleeve.
For the first time since they’d left, he longed to hear her rambling.
Looking ahead they were approaching a line of trees with low-hanging branches. It made the area dark. If there was a perfect placefor them to be attacked, that was it.
He looked at Moira, whispered for her to be on guard. “Remain calm, lass,” he said quietly.
As they entered the darkness, all was quiet. No birds chirping. There was naught. Errol masked his face into a relaxed position, but his body was wound tight, ready to strike.
Halfway through the branch tunnel, they attacked. A man ran from the cover of the trees, sword raised high in the air, as he let out a cry.
Errol jumped from his horse and quickly sliced the man down. He fell in a thud at Errol’s feet. His horse angrily stomped the ground, nostrils flaring.
Moira screamed, her booted foot kicking out and catching one of the attackers square on the chin. He stumbled back but regained his balance quickly. Errol ran over and the man spun at his approach, sword out ready to fight.
“Errol! Behind ye!” Moira yelled and he ducked just in time. He heard the hiss of the blade whisk over his head.
He kicked out his right leg and knocked the man off balance. As he did, the attacker in front of him swung and Errol felt the sting of his blade cut his upper arm. Ignoring the searing pain, he blocked the next swing with his sword and gave a shove, pushing the man back. He thrust his sword and the man leapt out of reach. They parried back and forth.
Moira’s yell filled his ears, and he whipped his head around to find her. She was on the ground, running, being chased by another bandit. Errol’s blood boiled. His rage building, he spun, swinging his sword. Smiling as he felt his blade sink into soft flesh, catching on bone. Blood gushed, and he kicked the man off his blade.
He ran in Moira’s direction. Pulling his dagger from his boot, he thought about throwing it at the heathen who chased her, but it was too risky. If he missed and hit her, he would never forgive himself.
Catching up to the two, he threw his body at the man in a full-on tackle. The man fell to the ground under him with an ‘oof’ as his breath left him.
He picked up the man by his tunic, bringing his face close to his. “Who are ye?” Errol growled. “How many of ye are there?”
The man was grabbing at his chest, unable to breathe.
Errol’s eyes clashed with Moira’s. “Are ye hurt?”
She shook her head, her eyes wide and terrified.
