Page 58 of The Lady of Her Highland Clan

"Run, lass, run!"

The voice made her turn. There, behind her, was Clyde. And his grin made her feel instinctively grateful.

Smiling wide, Clyde pointed his bow and arrow at Fraser's head. "Ye want tae take a prisoner? Let's talk..."

Clyde's heartbeat sped up. Finally, he approached, darting out from behind the undergrowth and up toward Fraser.

He had hidden behind the boulder further down, then pressed up from there, crawling facedown against the bushes that lined the way.

There, he had taken aim with his arrow, securing a direct hit against the guard who had Fiona in his arms. Pulling the bow had been hard. Up until this morning, the men advancing on them had been loyal guards. Now they were pointing a knife at the woman he loved.

Clyde took a deep breath as a revelation told him it was true. In the few short days he had spent with her, he surely had found himself falling for the Duncan maid. And falling deep.

"Fraser, ye let the lass go, alright? This has nothing tae do wi' her!"

He walked up to the man who had betrayed him, scrunching nonchalantly past the dead guard with an arrow in his back. Part of him felt stupid. This was not his cousin's first betrayal.

But Clyde pushed that memory down. Now was not the time for it.

Fiona's dazed eyes stared up at him. He longed to touch her, just to stroke her gently on the shoulders. Anything to let her know how sorry he was. And yet, he could not bring himself to move any closer to her.

It was as if she was made of ice.

Fraser gazed at him unsurely. "True," he said, swaggering forward in his bright-blue plaid. As he drew closer, he saw that he had availed himself of some of the clan jewelry. Or maybe it was plundered directly from the Duncan horde. But either way, Fraser was weighed down with ceremonial gold.

"True," Fraser repeated, his lips twisting leisurely. "But ye see, it's much more fun tae bring her in. An' ye cannae deny that clan has got a pretty penny."

Clyde snarled but kept his cool. "Let her go. An' I will take her place."

For the first time, Fiona glanced at him, her green-brown eyes brimming with pain. Clyde felt an instant stab inside him. This was his fault. All of it.

Fraser appeared to be thinking it over. "Och, but Clyde, ye dinnae understand. The Duncan clan are good for some coin."

Fraser's twisted features drew into a frown, and then almost instantly, a grin. Clyde struggled with his temper. The simplest thing in the world would be to shoot him. Just pull his arrow forward and whack him right between the eyes.

But Clyde knew he could not.

All the men behind him were watching. Doubtlessly, most of them had their arrows trained right on him now. So Clyde did nothing except look at Fraser meekly.

Fraser had performed one of his byzantine changes of expression and was now wearing a look of mock worry.

"Och, I dinnae ken, Clyde. Like I said, the Duncans have gold. What have ye got?"

He tilted his head dramatically and opened his brown eyes wide. Even in this light, the sun failed to find them, not even a flash of it illuminating his dull face.

Clyde fought an urge to spit at him.

"I have got the lairdship," said Clyde. And before his cousin could brag he had taken it, he added. "Legitimately. I rule at the behest o' the clan elders," Clyde reminded him. "An' no matter what ye say, ye will still have a fight on yer hands trying to swan in."

For the first time, the cocksure expression on Fraser's pudgy face wavered. Now he didn't look so sure. Fiona looked at Clyde unsurely. Even in this situation, she seemed sweet and effortlessly fresh.

"Go on," said Fraser, his face not changing.

Clyde felt his heart cheer. He was finally getting somewhere.

"Well, I offer ye the lairdship, an' the castle, an' the gold. Ye can take me as yer prisoner if ye wish. Just let the lassie go."

Fraser glanced around to his men as if thinking it through. Then, Fraser nodded.

"Alright," he said quietly. "I accept. Men—seize him!"

One of the guards behind him walked up to secure Clyde. As he was having his hands bound, Clyde turned to Fiona, still standing uncertainly in the middle of the clearing.

"Clyde, I—" she began.

"Run, lassie. Run!" he hissed, as a burly soldier knotted his hands. Clyde looked up into the man's beefy face. He had used to be one of his generals. Bristling inside at the turn of events, Clyde tried not to lose heart.

At least he had gotten Fiona free. Just as she turned to go, Fiona glanced at Clyde, her gentle green eyes connecting with his own.

She didn't say anything but just nodded.

Then she was gone, her dark brown hair flailing about wildly as she ran for the hills.

As she disappeared over the horizon, Clyde wondered if he would ever see her again.

Or indeed anyone.