“See to it,” Whip said.
Pulling his sword from the scabbard, the other guard set down his food and moved off to investigate.
Just as he stepped into the woods, there was a rustling from the other side. Taking careful aim, Megan continued to toss the stones into the dried brush, knowing they would cause the necessary distraction.
“Who goes there?” Whip glanced across the clearing in time to see his friend disappear. He turned to where another sound disturbed him.
When the rustling continued, Whip stormed across the clearing and peered into the dense woods. “Speak up. Who dares to defy me?”
He heard the rustling, just out of reach. Vexed, he used the sharp blade of his sword to cut down the brambles that tore at his legs as he pushed his way through the underbrush.
Kieran looked up to see the flash of a sword as Megan stepped into the clearing. He felt a tug on the ropes that bound him, and was astounded to see Colin bending over him, cutting him free.
“I ordered you to hide yourselves. By whose authority…?”
“Make haste.” As Megan beckoned to him, she saw the first guard returning from the woods. Moving swiftly, she stepped into his path and lifted her sword.
Kieran, still bound, was unable to go to Megan’s aid. But he watched with grudging admiration as she faced an opponent who towered over her.
For a moment the man was so surprised he could only stare. Was he dreaming, or had this beautiful creature just dropped down from the heavens? Then he saw the blade flash in the sunlight. His lips curved into a smile. “Do you mock me, woman?”
“Nay, sir. I challenge you.”
His smile disappeared when she lunged, catching him unawares. Her blade sliced into his shoulder, opening a gash that bled profusely.
With a look of fury he tried to drive her back, but she would not retreat. Instead, she lunged again, causing him to sidestep. Though he fought gamely, he was no match for her skill. His fury quickly turned into fear as he realized that his friends were too far away to come to his aid.
Hearing the sounds of blade hitting blade, Whip came rushing out of the forest. But when he entered the clearing he skidded to a halt. The prisoner was no longer lying on the ground, his hands and feet bound. With the last of the ropes cut, Kieran was struggling to get to his feet.
“Toss me your sword,” Kieran shouted to his brother.
A moment later Kieran faced the man who, only minutes before, had taunted him mercilessly.
“I believe you planned a celebration,” Kieran said softly. The blade of his sword glinted menacingly.
Whip rushed forward, intent upon ending this quickly. Kieran easily avoided his thrust and countered with one of his own. His blade slashed through the guard’s sleeve but missed his flesh.
“I captured you once, O’Mara. I can do it again.”
“Last time you had the help of four men. This time ’tis just you.” Kieran neatly sidestepped the man’s lunge and drove his blade into the soft, fleshy part of his upper arm. “I do not think your skill equal to the task.”
The guard’s mouth became a thin, tight line of concentration as he struggled to match his opponent’s mastery. But though he was a powerful man, Whip soon found himself tiring.
On the other side of the clearing Megan fought with equal skill against a man who found himself amazed at the lass’s agility. Each time he saw an opening for his blade, she managed to dance aside, and her blade seemed to find its mark each time she jabbed. Though his wounds were not fatal, he was bleeding from a dozen different places, and the effort to dodge her was draining him. He knew he could not hold on much longer.
It was Colin who heard the sounds of approaching horses.
“Kieran. Megan. We must flee. The others are returning.”
Though Kieran heard his brother’s words, he refused to turn away from the man who had bloodied and taunted him. The need for revenge boiled through his veins, heating his blood.
“So. You would hang me from my cell.” Kieran’s sword sang until the guard found himself backed against the trunk of a tree. “And you would beat my brother until there was no flesh left on his bones.” He felt a savage sense of release as his blade sliced through the man’s shoulder until it encountered bone.
“Kieran.” He felt Colin’s hand upon his arm, tugging. His voice entreated, “Leave him. He is beyond fighting. Vengeance is Mine, sayeth the Lord.”
“Aye.” Though Kieran heard his brother’s words, the need for revenge still bubbled dangerously near the surface.
“Please, Kieran.” Colin’s voice took on a note of desperation. “There is no time for this. We must flee.”
Kieran felt the pain in his chest and stomach and knew that his ribs had been broken when he’d been overpowered by his attackers. He tightened his grip on his sword and faced the man who had caused his terrible pain. “If I were half the animal you are,” Kieran said, his gaze dark with fury, “I would kill you where you stand.”
He saw the man swallow and freeze, awaiting his fate.
“But so that you can tell the others that Kieran O’Mara is a man of honor, I will spare you your miserable life.”
With a final thrust, he disarmed the man and tossed the sword to Colin. The guard fell to his knees and grasped his bloody hand.
Kieran glanced over to where Megan stood, pointing the tip of her sword at her opponent’s heart. “We must go, my lady. His life or death is in your hands.” He waited before adding, “The choice is yours alone.”
Megan studied the man whose eyes were wide with pleading. “Do not accost us again,” she said firmly. “Call off this need for retribution.” She took a step back and saw the relief that transformed the man’s features. “Or,” she added, “we will not show you the same mercy when next we meet.”
Relieved, Colin began to lead the way into the dim forest, followed by Kieran. With a last glance at the two subdued guards, Megan turned to follow them. But as Colin and Kieran disappeared into the shelter of the underbrush, she heard a man’s voice call out, “Will you look at what we have here, lads. The gods have sent us a female, just for our entertainment.”
As the cluster of ragged, dirty soldiers stepped into the clearing, she felt the press of strong hands around her throat. And as she caught at the offending hands and fought to pry them loose, a man’s voice rasped, “Go ahead, woman. Fight me. ’Twill give me the excuse I need to slit your throat.”
Chapter Five
M egan felt the hands at her throat gradually tighten until she could not breathe. Her struggles only made it worse.
As she fought her attacker, she saw a cluster of men dragging Kieran and Colin into the clearing. Both men had been disarmed and had no weapons except their fists. But they fought with every last ounce of energy until, bloodied and beaten, they fell to the ground. Their captors fell upon them and continued pummeling them while they bound them.
She did not know which sight tugged more at her heart, Colin, so weakened from loss of blood that he did not move, or Kieran, bloodied but unbowed, still raging against the men who bound his hands and feet.
“How kind the fates that sent us this reward for our day’s labor.” The man who held Megan tightened his grip around her throat until black specks danced in front of her eyes.
She knew that she must cease fighting him, else she would lose consciousness. That would lead to a loss of control, and above all, she must not lose control now. Her very life depended upon it. As well as those of Colin and Kieran.
When she stopped struggling, her captor loosened his grip. For a moment she stood very still, sucking deep drafts of air into her burning lungs.
She was aware that the men had formed a circle around her, looking at her with a kind of hunger that sent a chill racing along her spine.
“A comely lass,” one of them said with a smile.
“Aye. She would bring a man much pleasure.”
Megan’s mind reeled with the enormity of the task before her. Som
ehow she must overpower a dozen men and free Kieran and Colin from their bonds.
She thought of the dirk hidden at her waist. One puny knife would not be enough. She needed to relieve the men of their weapons and find a way to get those weapons into the hands of the two men who lay just beyond the circle of firelight.
One of the soldiers reached out a hand to her, and she stepped just out of his reach.
“So. The lass dances.” A second man reached out for her, and the entire company laughed as Megan pulled away.
“Dance for us, woman.” As the men reached out their hands, grabbing at her hair, her skirt, her bodice, she dodged and whirled until, leaping onto a rock just out of their reach, she stared down in defiance. One by one the men grew silent.
“I will dance for you.” She saw the look that came into their eyes. Lust. She recognized it and forced herself to continue. “But I would be much more fetching if I were given a chance to clean myself in the river.” She glanced at the dirt and blood that stained her gown and clung to her hands and arms.
“Aye.” One man separated himself from the others, and Megan knew that he must be their leader. His heavy beard did not hide the cruelty of his mouth or the puckered scar that had formed over his eye and cheek, where an enemy’s sword had left its mark. The eye that could still see was narrowed upon her. “And I am just the man to see to the lady’s toilette.”
The men sent up a howl of laughter.
He bowed to Megan. “I am Wilkes, captain of the guard. It will be my pleasure to accompany you.”
The men roared their approval. Their captain often saw to it that women were brought to their camp for their pleasure. His savage treatment of women was legend. Many a woman had begged to die rather than be returned to Wilkes a second time.
From his position on the ground, Kieran stared at the figure on the rock in disbelief. A sheltered woman of noble birth could scarcely be expected to understand her fate at the hands of men like these. Would the lass entertain them, in order to save her life? He quickly dismissed the thought. She was neither vain nor frivolous. Nor was she a fool. Was she, mayhap, stalling for time to make her escape? He had had little chance to really know her. Yet, from the time they had spent together, he had come to admire her courage. He had no doubt she would do all in her power to escape. He wished her well. She did not deserve this fate. In his heart, Kieran had little hope that she could succeed. The odds were sorely weighed against her.
Kieran watched and listened as the leader of the group caught her in his arms and lifted her to the ground. Yanking her roughly by the arm, he called, “This will take but a short time.”
“Especially since you have been away from your woman for many days,” one of the men shouted. “And many nights.”
Everyone laughed.
“Do not tarry long,” another added. “Else we will be awake all night awaiting our turns with the woman.”
“Dudley,” the leader ordered. “Prepare a meal for the men. With our task completed—” he gave a smug glance toward the two prisoners, securely bound “—we will feast and be entertained by the woman before we begin our journey home.”
“Aye. ’Twill be a night to remember.” The one called Dudley dropped the carcass of a deer, which he carried on his shoulder. With the blade of his knife he began preparing it for roasting.
Megan cast a quick glance at Colin and Kieran. Both men were watching her. Both wore identical frowns of concern. She could give them no reassuring look, no smile of confidence.
Though she was aware of the risk involved in her plan, she would not allow herself to dwell upon it. She could see no other way out.
As Megan was led away by Wilkes, several of the others went to the aid of the guards who had been overcome by Megan and Kieran.
Whip, who had been spared by Kieran, spat upon the two men who lay tied and helpless. With a sneer he told the others, “I should have killed this one when I had the chance. But now,” he added with a laugh, “he can watch while I take my revenge upon his woman.”
With the whip still dangling from his waistband, he was helped to a pallet spread beneath a tree. There, one of the men began to tend his wounds.
The other guard, remembering that the lass had spared his life, remained silent. He was almost sorry the captives had not made good their escape. The woman had fought bravely. And it was, after all, simply her bad fortune to be with these two rebels. Despite her skill with a sword, she appeared to be a young innocent. Her innocence would be gone after tonight, he knew. And though he missed the village wenches, he vowed to take no part in what would be done this night. When his wounds were bound, the guard rolled himself into his cloak and fell into an exhausted, troubled sleep.
Many of the men busied themselves cleaning their weapons. Others set aside their weapons while they rested. Soon, the aroma of roasting meat and the satisfying knowledge that their task was completed had them relaxed. Most of them dozed.
For the moment, Kieran and Colin were forgotten.
Kieran worked frantically on the vines that bound him. They tore into his flesh, cutting open old wounds, starting the bleeding afresh. He clenched his teeth and ignored the pain. Beside him, Colin drifted in and out of consciousness.
Brambles tore at Megan’s flesh and snagged her skirts as her captor dragged her toward the river. Her hair caught on the branch of a tree, yanking her head back sharply until tears stung her eyes. She barely noticed. Her mind seemed frozen. She had no plan. She would simply deal with each hurdle as it arose. This man would be the first.
“Here is the river. Wash yourself.”
They paused at the shore. Icy water spilled over rocks. Further downstream it formed a waterfall as it tumbled out of sight over a rock-strewn cliff.
Megan studied the treacherous riverbed. This was not what she had anticipated. She glanced at the man and said nervously, “I must have some privacy.”
“Do you think me a fool?” Wilkes leaned against the trunk of a tree and crossed his arms over his chest. “Clean yourself. I will watch. It is why I came. That,” he said, running his tongue over his lips, “and other reasons.”
Ignoring his leer, Megan removed her kid boots and touched a toe to the icy water. Lifting her skirts, she took a tentative step, then another. Water swirled around her ankles.
From his position on shore, Wilkes enjoyed the view. The lass was stunning as she bent and scooped water over her arms and face.
As she adjusted to the cold, Megan forced herself to step farther into the river. When she realized that the man on shore was too caught up in watching her to notice that she had moved away from him, she became bolder. She began to leap from one rock to another. When she was in the middle of the river, Wilkes called, “That is far enough.”
“And what will you do if I go farther?”
He was smiling. “I will order my men to kill your companions.”
“Then do it,” she said, forcing her tone to remain even.
“What are you saying, woman? Would you have me kill your friends?”
“Those men mean nothing to me.” The lie nearly stuck in her throat, but she was determined to go on. “I am with them against my will.”
For a moment Wilkes was struck dumb. This was not what he’d expected. He had thought that the threat of harming the men would keep her in line. He could not let the woman escape now. He would no doubt face a hostile group if he returned without her. Besides, he wanted her. Now. And he did not like the idea of chasing her through the icy water. Not that there was any doubt he could catch her. Stupid female. She could never outrun him, even with half a river between them.
He studied the swirling rapids and let out an oath.
“Would you like to join me in the water, Captain?”
“Nay. Return to shore.”
Megan lifted her hand to the bodice of her gown and began to unbutton it. For a moment Wilkes was astonished. Then his eyes narrowed. Of course. She had done this sort of thing before. She was a camp foll
ower. And she had singled him out because he was the leader. What good fortune. She was attracted to him. And why not? He had snagged his share of village wenches before. They were all hungry and knew that the Queen’s soldiers always had coin in their pockets.
“I care not for the water. You come here.”
As he watched, she undid a second button, then a third, until the bodice of her gown fell open to reveal a pale chemise.
“I was hoping I had chosen a man strong enough to carry me to shore.”
The icy water, the slippery rocks were forgotten. He stepped into the river and struggled to make his way to her.
Megan felt her throat go dry. The man was twice her size. The hilt of his sword gleamed in the scabbard at his side. Did she really believe she could overpower him with nothing more than the knife at her waist?
As he drew near, she felt a rush of energy. All fears were pushed aside. She grew strangely confident, as though some other hand guided her. She would not fail. She could not.
She waited until he reached her side. The rock upon which they stood was smooth to the touch. She curled her toes, determined to keep her balance.
“You are a strange lass.” He stood facing her and reached out a hand to her shoulder. “But I knew you could not resist me.”
She moved a step closer, until their bodies were almost touching.
“You realize, of course, that I must share you with the others.”
His smile grew, and Megan was repulsed by the stench of filth and sweat and ale that clung to him. “But at least I will be the first. Come.”
As he took her arm he caught a flash of sunlight glinting on the knife in her hand. He felt momentarily confused by the warmth in his midsection, followed by a sudden sharp pain. Bewildered, he looked down in mute fascination at the blood that formed a warm, dark stain across his tunic.
Megan, too, seemed overcome by the enormity of her deed. All she could do was stare at his ugly face and watch while his look of puzzlement slowly turned to one of understanding, then rage.
For a moment his grip tightened on her arm, and they both swayed precariously on the slippery rock. Then Megan remembered what it was she had to do to survive.
Highland Fire Page 6