Page 41 of A Rogue and a Noble Lass

Well, no longer. It was time to show Logan just how good a shot she was.

She grasped her bow and found an arrow. Whoever she thought Logan was, it had been a lie.

He was the enemy, and enemies needed to be killed.

But before she could loose the arrow she became aware of movement from the trees. Half a dozen men emerged, all wearing mean looks and Warnock colors, brandishing heavy axes and short swords.

“Put that down, lass, ye cannae shoot all of us,” one of them rasped.

Beitris frowned, annoyed that she had been so focused on finding Logan she hadn’t thought about the possibility that there were others.

“Aye, but how many dae ye think I can get?” she said and quickly fired.

The arrow flew through the air and slammed into a throat. The warrior went down gurgling. Beitris was already grabbing another arrow, her arm moving with expert speed. She turned. The men were advancing. She fired again. This one crunched against a leg. A few other men called out from the trees. Reinforcements. Beitris tried to make a hasty retreat, but they formed a circle around her.

They were like prowling wolves, but she was no rabbit or sheep. She bared her teeth and fired a third arrow. Another pained cry shot in the air like thunder, but Beitris’ hands couldn’t move quickly enough before the men were upon her. Swords and snarls filled her vision. Grunting, she slung her bow over her shoulder and unsheathed her sword, sweat stinging her eyes, a scream stinging her throat.

None of the attacks would hurt as much as what Logan had done. Beitris wanted to survive almost solely to confront Logan.

Where is he?

“Get away from me ye curs!” Beitris said.

There were so many of them that there wasn’t any point in practicing the techniques she learned. The sword was swung around wildly, as though she was swatting flies. There was a thick herd of them around her, suffocating and stifling the air. She saw Logan in each of their eyes. There was a cut on her arm, her leg, someone stamped on her foot. Pain throbbed and thrummed and she felt blood oozing out, but she would never yield.

For she was a Knox.

Logan turned sharply.

“What is this?” he rasped.

Caesus, the envoy, smiled a deathly smile.

“Did ye forget that yer Da plans for everything? We suspected she might be with ye. Now we hae ye both, but ye will still dae what he wants.”

“Never,” Logan thundered, his words laced with regret and anger. He should have known it would happen. He should have known her.

His sword was drawn in a heartbeat. His feet slammed against the ground as heavy as the hooves of a horse. His eyes narrowed. For years he had drawn on his anger and love for Abigail. It was with that strength that he had swung his sword, but today he felt something different. He fought for Beitris. It was she who loomed large in his mind, for he could not lose someone else he…

He dared not think the word, even if he felt it. Instead, he roared as he chased at the back of the crowd, the tide of men who stood between him and Beitris.

“I’ll kill ye all!” he cried as he plunged his sword into the back of the first man.

It might not have been honorable, but it was effective, and Logan was nothing if not effective. The surrounding men turned, but not quickly enough. Logan pulled his sword out and slashed it angrily through the air, the blade cutting a throat. With his left hand he grabbed a fistful of hair and wrenched it so hard the villain screamed. Logan dragged him to the ground and stamped on his throat, grinding his heel for good measure.

Then they came; swords and axes crashing down upon him like fatal raindrops. Logan’s sword was broad enough to catch them all, but the pressure pushed him down. He could feel his feet sinking into the ground and the throat. He gritted his teeth so hard he was certain they would crumble.

Then, amid the gnashing of teeth and vile curses he heard Beitris’ voice. Emboldened, he found strength from somewhere and pushed them away. He cut a stomach, stabbed a leg, kicked a face, but there were still more, and there was only so much he could do.

Someone grabbed his arm. Someone hit him in the wound that hadn’t quite healed yet. The pain caused a flash in his eyes and he staggered.

A sword thrust forward and it almost found his flesh, but he just managed to twist his blade in time. He wasn’t making any ground though, and the longer they kept him here, the more chance there was that Beitris would die.

Suddenly he felt a presence behind him.

“Ye are nae good by yerself,” Brody said, pushing back the warriors before him. If Logan had had time, he would have grinned.

“What are ye daeing here?”