Page 45 of The Lady of Her Highland Clan

Terrified, Fiona's heart rate doubled. Her breath coming in waves, she tried her hardest to face the man.

"Stories, that's it...an' they're a decade auld. Do ye nae think that we wouldnae have found it by noo if it were real?" Fiona looked into his wizened face. She had been hoping to appeal to his logic, if nothing else, but it didn't seem to have worked.

The man looked at her as if she were stupid. Dragging her to a tree, he pinned her down. Peering into her face, his breath came fast and hard. Fiona felt sick. It was all she could do not to heave in his presence.

"Dinnae give me that, lassie," he said, his eyes almost in her face. "An' if ye havenae found it yet, then ye'd better tell us where it is." He smiled, displaying his stumpy teeth. "Lady."

The sneer he gave her was beyond contempt, and Fiona wanted nothing more than to knock his blackened teeth down his throat. But she couldn't get free. The man was stronger than he looked, and his accomplice, the younger man, was just approaching. He had a menacing look on his face.

Fiona was outnumbered, but she was not about to give up the secrets of the Duncan clan. Especially not a wizened vagabond like him. Scowling, Fiona refused to say another word and kicked back against the old man's jaw.

It was unexpected, and it was just enough to put the man on the back foot. The elderly brigand fell back, grasping his jaw and moaning. Seeing him fall, the younger man—Is he the son? she wondered—leaped up.

The old man had fallen, but he had not completely relinquished his grip on Fiona's throat. For a while, they stood there, grappling, while the younger man watched. Fiona wondered why he did not attack her, but he just stood there, his slack jaw opening.

Then, she saw why. Behind him was Clyde.

Fiona gasped, and the older man tightened his grip on her throat. From behind, Clyde shoved his way over. Pushing through the windy glen, he grasped the old man and simultaneously shoved the younger brigand out of the way.

For a minute or two, it looked as if the younger man was getting to his feet and about to mount a defense. But when he saw his accomplice, flailing helplessly on the floor, he fled. Then it was just the old man, groaning and moaning on the ground. For the moment, Fiona ignored him, looking beyond for the lookout. He was dead.

With the younger man running and the elderly brigand collapsed on the ground, Clyde looked at Fiona with concern.

"Are ye alright?" he asked, a deep frown on his perfect brow.

Shaken up, Fiona nodded, but she wasn't really.

There wasn't much time to talk. Clyde pulled her out, leaving the old man rolling around on the floor. For a minute, he turned to him with a little look. Fiona read his mind; he was working out whether to kill the elderly brigand or not.

Instinctively wanting to get out of there, Fiona shook him off.

"Och, he'll kill again. The only good bandit is a dead bandit," Clyde complained, holding his sgian dubh up tight to the aged man's face. "Bodach like ye should ken better," he muttered, leaving the spluttering robber facedown in the ditch.

He took her hand. Squeezing it, Fiona felt the warmth flood through her. She hated to admit it, but she had really needed his help. More angry at herself for being so weak, she snapped a little at Clyde.

"An' where were ye?" she demanded, her green eyes dancing.

Clyde, who was still flushed from the fight, looked a little stunned.

"I, um, I went for a walk," he said.

It was hardly convincing. Fiona just glared.

"Aye, I can see that," she said coolly. They were walking away now—at speed. It was not quite a sprint, but it was getting near to it. Perhaps it was unnecessary. Maybe they were safe, but Fiona wanted to make quite sure there were no more of the geriatric robbers lurking in the woods!

"To, um, wash in the nearby loch," he added.

Fiona looked at him. He was dry completely, with not a trace of wet hair.

She glanced at him, making it clear that she was not impressed with his answer, but as they hurried, there was no time to talk any further.

Finally, they made it to where the horses were tethered. As they reached them, Fiona looked in amazement at the distance she had been dragged. Stroking Lizzie May, her face blanched.

She had no idea the bandits had taken her so far.

"Are ye alright, hen?" asked Clyde. He was beside her now, although there was really no need. Fiona was close enough to mount her horse, but feeling Clyde's fingers in her hair, she paused.

"Aye," she lied. Then she said, her eyes fixedly staring at Clyde, "Now can ye tell me what ye were really doing?"