Page 72 of A Highland Lass for the English Duke

W.R.

It smelled of Will, which was distressing. Just about to pack it away, Lissie paused. All this time and he had never realized it was her he met that first day in London. Clutching the hankie close, Lissie sighed deeply. This was all she would ever have of him.

Just as she was sinking into solitude, from behind, a hand grabbed her. A thickset arm muffled her, wrapping around her throat.

Terrified, she froze as a man's voice rang out, "One word an' I rip it out!"

* * *

Where was she?

Despondent, Will sat on a log and looked about. He was about a mile out of London but had paused by the roadside to rest his horse. In truth, he probably did not need a rest yet, but Will had spied a fresh running stream and hoped he might take a drink.

Patting the horse, Will gazed thoughtfully.

"Hope you're ready for a long ride," he said, nuzzling the silver-gray charger his brother had lent him.

As his horse grazed softly on the undergrowth, Will glanced back to the city and sighed. He hoped he was on the right road. This was the only realistic route out north, and it seemed likely Lissie would have come this way, past Smithfield and along the Fleet.

Early on, he had thought he hit gold with a group of travelers claiming sight of her. But since then, nothing. Not a sight, and as the sun's rays dipped below the fields, Will was beginning to despair he would ever see her.

Mounting Quicksilver with a heavy heart, Will set course for the Great North Road. If he picked up enough speed now, hopefully he would find an inn on the road ahead.

But he was not far down the road when a bloodcurdling squeal stopped him straight in his tracks.

There, a few dozen yards from his horse, were three men with a young woman held tight in their grasp.

Without a single thought, he rode, charging at top speed toward the golden field where the three men stood.

"Stop!"

He heard her cries carried on the wind from the hillock beyond. The wheat field was just out of reach, and getting to it was tough. Suddenly, every obstacle in the world sprung forth. There were logs, stones, twigs, branches, holes. Traversing the gaps in the road was tough. But Will went at it as fast as he could. Because as he did, the woman's screams got louder.

"Get off me!" she cried.

And although he could barely see, it was clear there was some kind of struggle.

It was only as he came closer he saw the scene: three brigands—giant, unclean, rough brutes—had backed up the unknown woman against a wall. The wall formed a barrier alongside which the river flowed. Will watched as the three robbers pushed her against the wall.

"Halt!" cried Will, chivying on his charger.

But there was only so fast he could go. And he could only watch in horror as she was pushed up against the wall and frisked by the men.

"By the Lord's bones, I will kill you!" swore Will as he raced his hardest to get close. But the brigands could not hear him. In fact, they did not even know he was there. They were too caught up in their own madness. One by one, they ripped at the young girl.

Then, one of them shouted, "Found it!"

In triumph, a dusty-haired brigand pulled out a pocket on a string from somewhere in the girl's clothing.

Will's heart sped up.

They were beasts, but he was too far to reach.

"Nay, I beg ye!" cried the girl, her voice carrying sparsely on the wind.

Will was forced to watch as the girl was dragged, then flipped unceremoniously into the icy cold of the river Fleet. Laughing, the brigands gathered their spoils—a tidy haul of jewels and gold. Then they left her face-down in the fast-flowing river.

His heart freezing, Will leaped from Quicksilver and plunged instantly into the water.