Edge of Yesterday (Edge Series Book 1)

by Tarah Scott

  She kicked his knee. Pain splintered through his kneecap. He released her and she shot away.

  “Hey!”

  She veered right, between two cottages. Cailean stared in the direction she’d disappeared. The constable would be at his door tomorrow. How was he going to explain—

  A woman’s scream caused him to straighten. What the bloody hell? That had to be the same woman. He started after her. She sounded like a wounded tiger. He reached the small alley and discerned her small form being held by one of three larger forms. This had to be part of the reenactment. But if so, then that meant her role involved whatever was happening to him. Another chilling scream.

  “Who are ye?” The larger of the two ruffians started toward Cailean.

  A slap sounded and the woman cried out. Cailean yanked his gaze onto her. She struggled against her captor.

  “Ye had best leave,” the big man growled.

  Cailean hesitated. This seemed so damned real. But wasn’t that the point?

  “Leave now, while you can,” the smaller man to his left hissed.

  Cailean shrugged. When in Rome…

  He drew Triumph and said in his best Highland brogue, “Nae, I dinnae think so.”

  “Kill him,” the one holding the woman ordered.

  The cravens drew their swords. Cailean grinned. This was why he’d come to Heatheredge. He’d never fought in an alley at night but, once they began fighting, faint lights were sure to turn on just as they had when Valdar made his way to Lady Elizabeth’s cottage.

  Cailean gripped his sword tighter. “Come on, laddies.” He cut the air with his blade. “Triumph hasn’t tasted blood today.”

  The smaller man edged right while the other advanced. So they thought they would press him back against the wall. The man on his right lunged. Cailean sidestepped the clumsy attack and whacked the man’s arse with the flat of his sword. The oaf stumbled into the wall, shoulder first. Cailean spun in time to block a blow from the second man. The impact vibrated clear to his elbow.

  Cailean swung in an arc, using momentum to force his opponent’s sword skyward. In midair, he yanked back his blade and jabbed as close as he dared to the man’s belly. The man jumped back and muttered something under his breath. Cailean didn’t blame him. He glanced around. Where were the damned lights—and the spectators? He wouldn’t have thought the committee would be so irresponsible. If his judgment was off by a centimeter, he could hurt the guy. Big-bearded, bare-shanked, and clad in ragged plaids, the men were far too scruffy to have main roles in the festival. They’d surely participated as ‘background fillers’ for true medieval Highland flair. Every century had ruffians. And these took their parts seriously. The man who had banged into the wall approached warily and Cailean turned to face both of them.

  “God’s Teeth, Davis, what are you waiting for?” The man holding the struggling woman jerked a look at his friend. “Kill him.”

  “Stick him yourself, Robert, if you think yourself able,” the bigger man shot back.

  “Aye, Robert.” Cailean took a step toward him, keeping Triumph pointed at his throat. “Have at me—or can you no’ swing a blade?”

  “By God,” Robert cursed. “Greer, get over here.”

  The second man backed up and turned to restrain the woman.

  “If you let her go this time I will kill ye myself,” Robert warned.

  Greer yanked the woman against him and yelled when she bit him.

  “Ye filthy bastard,” she spat.

  “Kick him like you did me,” Cailean called.

  His amusement froze in his gut when Greer yanked her head back by the hair and she cried out. Cailean took a step toward them, but jerked his gaze onto Davis when he lunged, sword swinging.

  Cailean backed up. “This has gone far enough.” He kept his sword raised as he flashed a quick look around. “No one’s watching.”

  The men exchanged a glance.

  Davis jumped and swung left. Cailean yanked his sword up in time to block the blow. Fury shot through him like hot lava. He parried, blade moving as a shadowed blur. The man was no match for him, and Cailean wanted like hell to pummel him. He saw his opening and thrust, blocking a clumsy blow, then yanked his sword up and swung with a two-handed blow that knocked the sword from Davis’ grip. The weapon flung sideways like a helicopter blade, then clattered into the cottage and hit the ground. Robert reached them and raised his sword, edging around Cailean in an obvious attempt to get him to turn his back on Davis.

  “I’ve had enough,” Cailean repeated. “Abusing a woman isn’t a game I play.” He shoved his sword back into her sheath and crossed his arms over his chest.

  Robert froze, clearly startled. Cailean decided the man got his point, and started past him toward Greer and the woman. Robert leapt toward him. Cailean registered the raised sword and whirled, yanking Triumph from her sheath. He swung a sideways blow that met steel upon steel with a bone-jarring clang that made his ears ring.

  Robert parried, then slashed at his midsection, opening a hole in Cailean’s great plaid and the linen tunic-styled shirt beneath. The red-hot desire to run his sword though the man caused Cailean’s vision to blur. Movement in the corner of his eye snapped him from the rage and he shifted so that he could see Davis’ slow approach to his left as he blocked a jab at his arm. Robert swung left, then feinted right and lunged. Cailean barely dodged a nasty cut to his thigh.

  “By God, Davis, use your sword, ye coward,” Robert ordered.

  “Aye, Davis, use your sword,” Cailean said in a soft voice.

  Davis halted. Cailean closed in on Robert, cornering him between the cottage wall and a peat stack. The man’s skill surprised him. If this were a real fight to the death, Cailean would be forced to work much harder.

  The pounding of booted steps sounded on the lane beyond the alley.

  “Get her out of here, Greer,” Robert shouted.

  He swung his sword in an arc. Cailean blocked, but fell back a step under the onslaught. Greer hauled the woman over his shoulder. Robert advanced and Cailean retreated several steps, then sidestepped a lunge and rammed his fist into Robert’s ribs as he stumbled forward. Robert whirled with a growl, but Cailean cracked the flat of his sword against the front of Robert’s legs. Robert fell face forward onto the ground. Cailean leapt over him and slammed Triumph into her sheath as Davis spun and raced after Greer and the woman.

  “Here!” a man shouted.

  Cailean glanced over his shoulder. Four men veered into the alley. He pumped his legs faster. Davis shot from the alley onto the street. Cailean exited two seconds later. Davis twisted and looked over his shoulder at him. Cailean gained and laughed as he passed him, headed for Greer, who entered another alley across the street. The slide of a blade from its sheath caused Cailean to jerk his attention back to Davis, and he veered right, barely avoiding the man’s blade as it sliced past his forearm. Cailean wheeled around and Davis veered to the right.

  “We will kill ye,” shouted the men chasing them.

  Cailean ignored them and ran after Greer. He neared the alley, intending to catch Greer before he exited on the far side, when a woman shouted, “He is waiting for ye!” A muffled cry followed.

  Cailean skidded to a halt at the mouth of the alley and yanked out his sword. He peered into the murky shadows and spotted Greer’s bulk pressed against the left cottage. Sword raised, Cailean crept forward. He detected the faint smell of urine. Talk about authenticity. He neared within three paces of Greer when the man spun and raced toward the other end of the alley. The woman pushed away from the wall and stumbled. Cailean leapt forward and caught her.

  “Let me go.” She batted his arm like a weak kitten.

  She seemed weak as a kitten, he mentally amended. She was one hell of an actor, as were the three men.

  She swayed.

  “Easy,” he soothed.

  She clutched his shirt and nearly fell into his arms. This was more like it.

  “Are you all right?”
He gripped her arms to steady her.

  “How can I be fine after being mauled by a monster like that?”

  She had a point.

  “Maybe you should sit down.” He scanned the alley but didn’t see a bench and the urine smell was uninviting.

  “Julianna,” one of the men who’d chased them shouted.

  “In here,” she called in a croak.

  “Julianna,” Cailean murmured. “A beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”

  “It’s just like a man to flatter a woman when he has no chance of bedding her.”

  “Maybe later,” he said with a chuckle. “For now, rest your pretty head.”

  The men burst into the alley. The one in the lead kept coming and when he reached them, snarled, “Take your hands off her.”

  “You have it wrong,” Cailean began, but the man yanked Julianna from his arms and drove a fist into Cailean’s jaw.

  Cailean’s head snapped back and another blow struck his ribs on the spot that still stung from the gorse thorns. He winced, but managed to block the next blow and ploughed his fist into his attacker’s belly. The man released a loud “Whoof,” but reared back for another punch. Cailean jabbed his jaw, snapping his head back once, twice—

  “Stop!” Julianna shouted.

  The man swung an uppercut that grazed Cailean’s nose. Cailean drew back a fist— A hulking figure sped past Cailean and barreled into the other man. They hit the ground in a tangle of muffled curses.

  “Get off me, ye big oaf,” Cailean’s assailant yelled at the man who’d tackled him.

  “Stop it, Lennox,” the other man growled. “Listen to what your sister says.”

  Lennox and the other man pushed to their feet.

  “Dinnae hit him anymore, Lennox.” Julianna looked from one to the other. She took a step forward. “Please…”

  Cailean backed up a pace so that he could see her and keep Lennox in his line of sight.

  “Julianna—” Lennox began.

  “Nae,” she cut him off. “You burst in, fists flying, before you ask any questions.”

  “Ye were kidnapped,” he growled.

  “Aye, but not by this man.”

  Lennox yanked his gaze onto Cailean.

  “Not me,” Cailean said. “I simply had the misfortune of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  “You had your hands on her.”

  “Lennox, I am warning ye.” Her voice held steel. He wouldn’t want to argue with this woman.

  Men’s shouts in the distance stilled them.

  Lennox’s head snapped in Julianna’s direction. “They found us. But how?” He glanced toward the noise.

  “Do not be a fool.” She leaned toward him. “They will kill ye.”

  “Come on, then.” Lennox hurried to his sister and grasped her arm.

  “This way!” one of the approaching men yelled.

  Lennox strode past Cailean with Julianna and the other men close behind. Cailean hurried after them. They neared the lane at the end of the alley when quick bootsteps echoed behind them and someone shouted, “Here. They are down here.”

  Lennox, Julianna and the other men broke into a run. Cailean followed and when they spilled out onto the street, the group turned right. Cailean ran beside Lennox and Julianna.

  Lennox glanced at him as they sprinted along a low drystone wall toward a byre. “Ye are to go your own way.”

  “Hush, Lennox.” Julianna flung a hand in Lennox’s direction. “Voices carry,” she warned, her own pitched low.

  “By God, Julianna—”

  Ahead, four men burst past the byre. Everyone skidded to a halt. Lennox pushed his sister behind him and the men formed a line in front of her. The men chasing them spilled out onto the lane and Cailean whirled as he drew Triumph from her sheath. From the corner of his eye, he glimpsed Julianna, a dirk in her right hand. He grinned. Here is where the fun really began. With a shout, the men on both sides attacked. The biggest man angled toward Cailean, and Cailean leapt forward, blade swinging in an arc the other swordsman blocked. Swords clashed in a chorus of metal that sent adrenaline pumping through Cailean’s veins.

  His opponent pressed his attack, clearly intending to separate Cailean from the men surrounding Julianna. He lunged, forcing the man on the defensive. The man to Julianna’s left brought a heavy blow down on his opponent’s arm, which severed the arm at the elbow. Blood spurted in unison with the wounded man’s animal-like howl and Cailean faltered.

  “Nae” Julianna cried.

  Cailean jerked back in time to miss the dirk that whizzed past his face by scant inches. The knife lodged in his assailant’s chest as Cailean swung his sword up and blocked the blow the man had been about to bring down upon his head. Cailean shoved with all his might. The man stumbled backwards, then dropped onto his back and lay motionless. Cailean stared. The knife protruding from his chest looked so real, and the other man—he yanked his gaze onto the man whose arm had been severed. He lay face down on the ground, the arm flung out like a half-eaten chicken wing.

  Julianna appeared in Cailean’s line of sight when she bent and seized the amputee’s sword from the ground. She spun to face the melee. Her attention fixed on the combatants closest to Cailean. One of her comrades retreated under the onslaught of his attacker. Cailean couldn’t discern the men’s expressions, but he recognized the halting withdrawal as fear. These actors rivaled the best Hollywood stars.

  Julianna leapt forward with a warrior’s cry and thrust her sword into the attacker’s lower back. The man screamed, his knees buckled and he hit the ground with a thud. Julianna whirled.

  “Behind ye!” she shouted.

  Cailean whipped about. He registered the sword thrust, twisted to miss the point, and heard the rip of fabric as the blade sliced through his left sleeve. He jabbed, nicking his opponent’s arm below his leather armband. The man cursed, then lunged. A wave of dizziness caught Cailean off guard. His surroundings blurred, but he parried.

  His left arm suddenly felt like lead. He slashed with his sword, and his ears rang with the resounding clash of metal. A shout startled him. Another figure appeared at his side, but Cailean couldn’t see who it was. The man lunged at Cailean’s attacker. In the instant before his opponent dropped to the ground it looked like Cailean’s companion had run his sword through the assailant’s belly.

  “By God, he’s bleeding like a stuck pig.”

  Cailean recognized Lennox’s voice. Lennox seized Cailean’s left wrist. Searing pain flashed through him.

  He yanked his arm free of Lennox’s hold. “What the bloody hell did you do to me?” Cailean became aware of the cold sweat that broke out across his forehead.

  “Saved your life, is what I did,” Lennox shot back.

  “We must go,” Julianna said in a low voice. “Someone is sure to have heard the fight.”

  “Come,” Lennox said.

  Julianna gripped Cailean’s forearm. “He isnae well.”

  “You wouldn’t be well if you’d fought four battles in a single evening,” Cailean grumbled. “Not to mention riding in the procession and the jousting. I think I’ll call it a night.” He lifted his sword to her sheath and slid the blade inside. A wave of fatigue rolled over him. He took a step forward and listed.

  Julianna shoved his shoulder in an obvious attempt to keep him standing and he stumbled.

  “Christ.” Lennox grabbed Cailean’s arm and dragged it over his shoulder. “Gregory, grab his other side.”

  The other man grasped Cailean’s free arm and drew it over his shoulder.

  “This is ridiculous.” Cailean attempted to pull free, but when they started forward his knees buckled, and their support was all that kept him upright.

  “He weighs as much as a cow,” Lennox muttered.

  “Pure muscle,” Cailean said with a hoarse laugh.

  Julianna hurried ahead of them. She reached the end of the lane and nipped out of sight.

  “Julianna,” Lennox hissed. “Damn her.
”

  They turned the same way and Cailean saw her farther up the road.

  “Stop,” Lennox called in a loud whisper.

  She glanced over her shoulder but didn’t slow. An ache built in Cailean’s arm. By the time they left the last cottage behind, the ache had turned into a burn that made him grit his teeth. When they reached the hospital, he intended to fall into bed and sleep for a week.

  Chapter Six

  “Julianna,” Lennox growled in a dark tone that told her to stop or he would march her in front of their mother and recite all her sins for that night, disobeying her brother being at the top of his list, leaving Raghnall unescorted at night being second.

  She halted and waited for her brother and her cousin Gregory. They pulled even and she fell in alongside Lennox. She didn’t like the way the stranger was stumbling.

  “We should bind his wound,” she whispered.

  Lennox shook his head. “We must reach Raghnall.”

  “Ye cannae carry him four miles.”

  “Julianna—”

  “‘Tis useless to bring him all that way only to arrive home with a corpse,” she cut in.

  A heartbeat of silence passed. She couldn’t see her brother’s features, but knew he would give in.

  “After we make the woods beyond Caisteal Mill,” he said.

  She would have to settle for that, and he was right. If they were spotted, word would quickly reach Crowe that they had been roaming the area. He would need no further proof to know she was the longnose who spied on them in the woods.

  A short while later, they crossed the narrow Alltbuie River bridge and hurried past Caisteal Mill into the trees. Lennox continued a good thirty paces, staying within the cover of trees before stopping. They leaned the stranger against the thick trunk of a Scots pine while Julianna pulled out her lady’s dirk and cut a length of linen from her undertunic. She rolled up his left sleeve then gingerly fingered his arm, not liking the amount of slick blood coating his skin.

  He grunted when she probed the cut. “Easy, lass,” he said in that light Highland burr that sounded slightly off.