Highland Enchantment (Highland Brides) (14 page)

"God's balls," Liam said, "that's not a knife. That's a damned claymore."

"Tis a knife, lad," argued the Munro warrior. "And you said you could toss the thing about."

"Nay, I did not," Liam countered, making certain his tone evidenced a good deal of nervousness. There was nothing like a bit of obvious reluctance to make an audience eager.

"Aye, you did. But I see now that you're too scared to try it, even for say...three coppers?"

"Three coppers?" Liam let his voice get hopeful then shook his head while still spinning the flaming branches into the air. "Nay. Tis not worth the risk."

"Four coppers?"

"Come now, lad," another coaxed, and pulled out his knife. "The blades are not even on fire."

"Nay," Liam countered. "They are not aflame. Thus they'll do naught but slice off my ear."

"Your
ear?"
One of the men chuckled as a burning stick dipped a bit lower than planned, flaming dangerously near Liam's oversized codpiece. "Were I you, I'd be worrying about other parts of meself. Parts likely to give you more pleasure in the future."

Liam grinned. "Tis why I kept my own five blades rather dull."

"Well, mine be not dull," said one of the men, "but you do not have to play with five then. Say...

three... for twice that number of coppers."

"Six coins?" Liam questioned as if doubtful, but if the truth be known, he could juggle three knives in his sleep, while standing on his head in a rainstorm with a ragtag bunch of children bombarding him with rotten fruit and a gaggle of geese feeding off the remains.

"Nay," Liam said after a moment's pause. "Tis a poor idea."

"Tis a grand idea," someone argued, and standing abruptly, tossed the knife directly at him.

Liam caught it without thinking. In a heartbeat it was spinning into orbit, replacing one of the sticks he let fall harmlessly to the grass.

Another knife spun toward him. He caught that with as much ease, but the truth was, there were eight men here, and even a master like himself might have a wee bit of trouble with eight...

Eight! He skimmed the men in front of him, counting as he did so. Seven! There were only seven men present! Where was Rachel?

He almost screamed her name, but managed to keep silent as he frantically searched the lightened area before grilling the darkness beyond.

It was then that he thought he heard something—a whimper? A muffled shriek?

"Jamie?" he called, careful not to alarm any of the big men who held big knives in big hands.

"Jamie?" he repeated, but his heart was pounding now like a panicked steed's.

"Liam!"

His name was shrieked off and cut short.

"Rachel!" he yelled, and jerked about just in time to see her lunge out of the darkness.

But in a moment, she was snatched to the ground.

He yelled her name again. The flaming sticks fell to the earth. The knives fell into his hands. He let them fly without a second's thought.

There was a grunt of pain from the darkness. Calum dropped Rachel's arm and jerked about, clawing at the knife that pierced the back of his arm.

Yanking the blade from his flesh, he roared and staggered forward.

"Bloody hell! Run!" Liam yelled, but Rachel was already on her feet and bolting into the darkness of the woods.

He had only himself to worry about. Himself, a wounded warrior, and seven big men with knives.

Shit!

"Now, lads," he said, holding his empty hands out in front of him. I want no trouble here."

"Get the woman," Calum growled, still coming on.

"Woman?" one of the men asked.

"Get the woman!" yelled their leader.

Three men spurted into the woods. The rest formed a semicircle around Liam, their swords gleaming in the fire's glow. Their eyes no less bright.

"Tis naught but a misunderstanding," Liam soothed, and wished to hell he had his black powder, or his knife, or... Damn! He'd be happy if he had a sharp stick right now. Just then he remembered the flaming brands he'd just dropped.

Bending, he snatched one off the ground.

"Stay back," he warned. "Stay back or you'll regret it." The threat was rather like a mouse roaring at a pack of wolves.

The closest man grinned. "A woman?" he asked. "Tell me, lad, might you be playing us for fools?"

"Fools? You?" Liam asked, backing away, his brand held in front of him. "Nay." It sounded a bit more sarcastic than he'd intended. He swallowed hard. "Stay back now, lad. I've no wish to hurt you."

"Hurt me?" asked the closest man, and lunged.

Liam swung frantically. The branch cracked against the other's shoulder, thrusting the man sideways and breaking in half in the process.

Liam stared in horrified shock.

Calum roared as he charged.

Death screamed its war cry. Liam raised his arms to cover his face, but in that instant hoofbeats thundered behind him.

"Liam!" Rachel screamed.

He pivoted about. The horse reared nearly atop him. Liam stumbled backward. Something scraped across his cape. Panic spurred him forward. He leapt, grabbing for the steed. The horse was already spinning away, his mane flaring out.

Liam snatched the ends and was whipped forward. His feet hit the ground a second later. The horse thundered from camp. Liam's legs pistoned, trying to keep up, to prevent getting trampled. A hoof scraped his leg. Something clawed his back, and then he was on, one foot hooked over the stallion's back, one bent up against the animal's heaving ribs.

"Hold on!" Rachel shrieked.

Liam gritted his teeth and wondered what the options were.

Behind them men yelled and swore and ranted as they dashed toward their mounts. Liam clung to the stallion's side like a drowning tick. He tried to shimmy up, but his fingers were giving out. He felt himself slipping and tried not to scream.

But in that instant, Rachel hauled on the reins. The horse planted his haunches and slid. Liam dropped his feet to the ground, jolted at the impact, then lunged into action, running along beside as he gathered his strength.

"Get on!" Rachel rasped. "Before they catch their horses."

Clever girl. She'd turned their mounts loose. Panting for breath, Liam swung aboard, nearly pulling Rachel off as the stallion leapt back into a gallop.

Hanging on for dear life, Liam glanced back. Dark shapes materialized behind them. "They're after us!"

Rachel leaned over the stallion's crest and yelled something indistinguishable in his flattened ears. The horse lowered his head, gathered his strength, and flew through the woods.

Branches whipped them, thorns ripped at them. All the world was a blur of darkness as they careened into the night. But their mount was carrying a double load and the yells of their pursuers were growing louder.

Liam twisted about again.

Two shadows tore through the woods behind them. Only two, but they were gaining ground.

Muscles taut, heart pounding, he leaned over Rachel's bent back.

"Keep going. No matter what, as long as you hear horses behind you, keep riding."

"What?" She tried to peer into his face.

"Keep going," he hissed.

Releasing Rachel's waist, Liam propped his feet beneath him on the horse's straining back and, perched there like a stymied monkey, glanced behind. The riders were almost upon them. Almost. But for a moment they were hidden from view.

Straightening his legs, he balanced for one precarious moment and reached for a branch.

His fingers snagged the limb an instant before it struck his chest. Air whooshed from his lungs, but he had no time to breathe anyway. Yanking his knees up under the branch, he glanced below him.

Horse and rider appeared in an instant, racing after them.

No time to think. Not a moment to spare. Coiling into himself, Liam swung his legs backward with all his might. Pain shot up his thigh as he struck the man's chest.

There was a grunt and wild grappling, but the rider was already falling, slipping toward the ground as his mount rushed on.

The next rider burst into view. Liam recoiled and swung his legs again, but his aim was off.

Swinging wide, the warrior snagged Liam about the knees and dragged him from the branch. Beneath them, the horse reared. The world tilted, and then they were falling, tumbling over the animal's rump.

The earth struck Liam's head, but the blow of the man's fist was harder. Grappling for his wits, he opened his eyes and tried to think, but the fist was coming again. He rolled aside at the last second and scrambled to his feet.

The warrior pivoted toward him. Liam froze, his back to a tree, his mind momentarily numbed, his muscles frozen with terror. And in that second, the Munro charged.

His battle cry ripped through the night. Liam tried to shriek back, to cow his opponent with his courage, but his mouth wouldn't open, his muscles wouldn't move, until finally, at the last second, he whipped his body into submission and leapt sideways.

The warrior, muscle-bound and enraged, tried to turn with him, but it was too late. He crashed head first into a tree and fell with a muffled grunt.

Liam remained as he was, half-bent and breathing hard as he realized with aching clarity that the horses he'd hoped to catch were gone.

It was the sound of hoofbeats that made him prepare to leap into the surrounding woods. But at the last instant, he realized they were coming from behind him.

A horse burst into view and skidded to a halt.

"Liam?"

His heart bumped against his backbone at the sound of her voice.

"Rachel. You weren't supposed to come back."

"You weren't supposed to fall off."

"Fall off!"

"Hurry. We've no time to lose."

He was nearly too weak to mount, but he managed somehow, though his legs shook.

"Hang on. I may not be able to save you if you fall off again."

He tried to mouth an objection, but their mount lunged beneath them, shoving the words down his throat as they galloped into the night.

"How bad?" Liam asked.

Rachel stroked the stallion's right foreleg and rose stiffly to her feet. "He needs naught but rest.

But he needs that badly."

Liam ground his teeth. They had ridden through the night, but they would ride no more, for the horse was spent. Still, there was no time to rest.

"We'd best get walking, then," he said, and turned away.

It took him a moment to realize she wasn't following.

"What be you doing?"

"Removing his gear."

"We've no time."

"What do you suggest, Liam? That we leave him here to be caught in the brush and starved after he saved our lives?"

Liam considered reminding her that
he
too had saved her life, that
his
leg hurt and his stomach was empty. But there seemed little point for she had already turned back to the horse with a crooned word. Twas just like her to care more for a steed than a man.

It took only a few moments for her to finish her task. During that time, Liam gazed off in every direction, and prayed to God that they hadn't been followed, not by the Munros and. not by worse.

"What are you waiting for?" Rachel asked, and turning away, trudged through the woods.

Fatigue rode Liam like a spurred horseman. Hunger clawed at his belly. But he would drop dead in his tracks before he'd admit as much, especially after she'd inferred that he'd
fallen
off the horse. Him! Liam the Irishman! He didn't fall off anything.

They walked for an eternity until they found the road then continued doggedly on.

It was sometime after noon when Liam thought he heard a noise. He stopped abruptly, tension tightening like a hard knot in his belly. "Do you feel something?"

She didn't answer, and he didn't ask again, for suddenly it seemed as if the very breath had been sucked from his body.

"Into the woods," he hissed.

But Rachel was frozen in place.

"Hurry!" he ordered, and pushed her into the trees.

Once there, she stopped to turn back, but his heart was racing now and his mind working in synch. Grabbing her hand, he leapt deeper into the woods, dragging her behind as they stumbled into anonymity.

But finally Rachel's foot snagged on something, and she fell. Liam froze, still holding her hand.

"Get up," he hissed.

"Nay." She shrunk into herself, pulling up her arm to cover her face. "He's coming! We can't— Nay!" she gasped.

"You must come," he said, but her answer was only a whimper.

Fresh terror spurred up, driving him to his knees. He reached for her, pulling her against him.

Dragonheart pressed into his chest.

"Liam..." Her voice was raspy, her body tense with terror.

"Do not think about it."

"I feel—"

"Do not let him in. Close your mind."

"I can't."

He caught her gaze and shook her. "You shall!" he ordered. "You shall. Think of your home."

"Liam..."

He tightened his grip. Fear roiled in his mind. Sweat dotted his forehead. "Think of your mother. Glen Creag when you were a lass."

She shivered. He squeezed his eyes closed and pulled her closer still, fighting to hold his mind from the evil that knocked at it.

"Remember when Shona fell in the moat."

Terror! Pain so real, he could taste it like blood in his mouth.

"Mid..." Rachel's whisper broke away, but she struggled on. "Midsummer's eve."

Warwick would not have her. Ever. Rachel would be safe. Liam tightened his arms, his resolve. "She had vowed to scale the wall without being seen."

They were close. So close. His arms trembled. His voice lowered of its own accord, as if cowering in the sorcerer's dark shadow.

"Her father asked how she had become wet," he continued. Terror gripped them in steely talons, barely allowing him to breathe. "And all the while the Rogue knew the truth, for he'd tried the same feat himself." He rambled on, though he no longer knew what he said.

Fear loosened a bit, then a bit more until finally only the bitter aftermath lay on them. Exhausted and spent, they didn't try to move, but fell asleep, cowering in the shadowy woods with Liam's cape spread over them like a forest green shroud.