Page 48 of A Dangerous Highland Affair

However, fate had other ideas. Hurtling around the bend, the other riders finally caught up. Seeing Marcas, they slowed down.

Swiftly, the dark-haired man dismounted, a sneer showing in his twisted face. He must have picked himself back up after being flung off his horse earlier.

He wore a grim smirk as he eyed Neacal. Before he had a chance to see any further, Neacal took to his heels, attempting to dive into the open fields by the side of the road.

“Nae quick enough!” rasped the soldier, bringing his heavy sword to bear towards Neacal. The dark-haired man flung the blade into the air, missing Neacal’s nose by a hair’s breadth.

“Neacal!” Teasag squealed from somewhere in the field.

“Shhh!” Neacal implored. But it was too late. The dark-haired man was onto him, his thick arm attempting to choke him.

“Nae ye dinnae,” Neacal growled. He shrunk free of the man’s grip with expertise. But it didn’t stop the sword pointed right at his face.

Behind him came others, slowly advancing in front of their horses now abandoned in the road.

Neacal’s eyes quickly scanned the desolate countryside. He was hoping for a glimpse of Teasag but couldn’t see her anywhere. Praying that she was safely away, Neacal turned his attention back to the soldiers, now encircling him in the middle of the dirt road.

Silently, from behind, Marcas was approaching, his sgian dubh glinting in the weak light. He wore an expression of complete contempt.

It was hard to tell, but Neacal thought that his long nose looked more twisted than usual, making him wonder if he had been in a recent fight.

“Arrest him!” commanded Marcas, as the small ring of soldiers advanced towards him.

But Neacal had more pressing concerns. Right next to him stood the dark-haired guard - the ice-cold of his blade cutting into the side of his chin.

“We’ve got ye noo!” hissed the man, but he hesitated for a split-second, giving Neacal all the time he needed.

Immediately, he kicked the dark-haired soldier firmly between the legs, sending him collapsing to the ground in agony.

But before the man could struggle to get himself upright, his backup arrived. Right behind him, two burly soldiers cut through to Neacal.

A cold wind raged around the glen, bringing with it the distinct chill of the coming night. Quickly surveying the darkening gray skies, it brought the predicament into Neacal’s focus.

He simply had to cut free of these soldiers so that Teasag could be dropped off at Blackness before dark.

The second rider was hard on his heels, this time a lanky, fair lad with shoulder-length dirty blond hair. Soon, he was grasping his way to the front, trying to take a swipe at Neacal from the edge of the road.

Neacal didn’t wait for him to strike, elbowing him in the cheek, sending him flying through the undergrowth, before he could get a chance to do anything.

However, as desperately as Neacal attempted to flee the scene and reach Teasag, Marcas was still in pursuit.

When it seemed all was lost, and both Marcas his henchmen had almost reached him, there was a sudden loud noise.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

T easag’s scream rose with the exuberant winds and flew high for all below in the valley to hear. Her wail pierced the ears of everybody in the road and almost knocked the remaining horsemen clean off their horses.

The sight of the advancing soldiers getting so close to Neacal had her panicked. As she sat, watching the spectacle on the road ahead unfurling, Teasag wondered desperately what to do about it. She needed to cause a distraction. Just anything to give Neacal a fighting chance to get free.

“What was that?” asked the dark-haired soldier. He had brought himself far too near to Neacal for Teasag’s liking. The man sneered, a twisting, frozen smile playing around his lips.

Teasag tried to make eye contact with Neacal, but from the depths of the grassy field, it was hard not to reveal herself to the men.

“Psst, Neacal,” she hissed. Her heart was throbbing manically. The thought of him overwhelmed by the men was driving her on.

Gathering her skirts, Teasag leaned down into the wet ground and found a stone. With precision, she skimmed it across the glen and softly into the air where the men were standing.

Thwack! The sharpened stone landed squarely in the middle of the dark-haired man’s forehead. Teasag was heartened to see her mark hitting its target with such accuracy.