by Alisa Adams
As Seamus rode forward, he cursed his luck and the luck of the women who were betrothed to him. Ciara had already died, was it the fate of Sarina to die this day as well?
With anger in his eyes, he pushed Shadow to his limit and raced down the path. He rode with more fury than Angus and eventually, Angus ended up a few paces behind him. Before him, Seamus saw the four bandits locked in battle with two men. Swords gleamed in the sunlight and the air was alive with grunts and cries of pain. The two men were putting up a good fight, but the odds were against them. One of them flashed his sword flamboyantly and seemed to welcome the fight. Seamus cursed under his breath. Had the man no experience of fighting bandits at all?
The other man was more cautious and was defending well. They should have stayed together, but the defensive man was making sure none of the bandits made it to the carriage while the other was moving away and being lured in by the bandits. Seamus knew what was going to happen before it actually did. The bandits drew him in and then struck. They had pretended to be weaker than they actually were and with three of them upon him, the Englishman stood no chance. He put up a valiant fight though, Seamus had to give him that, but in the end, it was a futile one. Seamus watched as the bandits ran him through then pulled out their swords. The blades dripped with blood and the Englishman fell to the floor, so stunned that he couldn’t even manage a death cry.
“No!” the other one shouted and seemed to be torn between guarding the carriage and avenging his ally. He was occupied by one warrior and was just about getting the better of him when the other three came bearing down on him. Seamus was almost there, just a few more moments.
“Ye villains! Come and meet ye master!” he cried as he leaped off his horse and ran into the fray, brandishing his sword. The bandits turned with shocked faces. Two of them came toward him while the other two continued battling the Englishman. Seamus was glad to see that they hadn’t made it to the carriage yet, although there was nothing to suggest that his bride was alive. If she had any sense about her, she was waiting in the carriage, protecting herself from danger.
Seamus threw himself into battle. He had no love for bandits. They fought for neither glory nor honor, only gold, and preyed on the weak and innocent. Evidently, the prize of an English bride with all her fine dresses and rare jewelry was too tempting a target for them to resist for Seamus had made it clear that the presence of bandits would not be tolerated.
The two bandits roared, trying to intimidate him, but anyone who had ever tried to intimidate Seamus knew that it was a futile act. Their swords flashed as they thrust toward him, but Seamus raised his and blocked their blows. His powerful muscles strained as he pushed his weight up and resisted, forcing them back. A guttural moan burst from his throat as his biceps swelled and he saw them stagger back. The bandits looked at each other. Seamus grinned as he saw the uncertainty in their eyes, but there was no running from him.
Seamus brought his greatsword back with both hands on the hilt of the heavy blade. It seemed impossibly long as he swung it through the air. The bandits were amazed for none but the strongest and mightiest could ever hope to wield such an impressive weapon. The blade crashed against the bandits’ short swords and sent tremors down their arms. They crumpled under the weight of the blows, barely able to hold their swords to attention. In that moment, they knew that death was upon them and Seamus was all too happy to oblige.
Seamus’ face twisted in anger as he unleashed hell upon them. He strode forward, using his momentum to drive the sword against his enemies. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the other Englishman struggling to hold his own against the other two bandits. Angus was calling to him while alighting from his horse. Seamus decided to end the battle as quickly as possible. He thrust his sword forward, skewering one of the bandits right through the middle. A sickly sucking noise filled the air and his enemies jaw hung agape in shock. If the other bandit had had the presence of mind, he could have attacked a vulnerable Seamus in the moments it took the Highlander to extricate his bloody sword, but Seamus had gambled on the fact that the bandit wouldn’t remain composed at the sight of his companion being gutted.
The heat of battle raged within his blood. In one fluid motion, he drew the sword back, brought it around his head, and then swung with all his might. The blade was so sharp and his blow was so strong that it took the head of the bandit clean off. A fountain of blood sprayed out as the head dropped and rolled along the ground.
“Time for ye tae cease!” Seamus shouted. His muscles were tensed, bristling with raw, primal savagery. He looked like a beast thrown up from the pits of hell. The bandits turned to face him. Even the Englishman was stunned by his fear.
The bandits charged at him. Seamus braced himself for the attack, watching the movements of the bandits so that he could time his strike perfectly. He felt a rush of air pass him and then heard a loud thump. An arrow buried itself in the chest of one of the onrushing bandits. Seamus allowed himself a quick smile. It seemed as though Angus wasn’t going to miss out on any of the fun. But the last bandit was still going to be his. Seamus crouched and held his sword in front of him. The bandit yelled as he ran in. He seemed to be in a frenzied state because he was the last survivor of his small raiding party. Seamus could see the whites of his eyes which were filled with fear. The bandit screamed at the top of his lungs, but as he raised his sword, Seamus lifted his own, bringing it up with all his might, and slicing through the bandit.
The bandit’s screams were silenced as he choked on his own blood. Seamus looked at him remorselessly as he passed by. The bandit’s body crashed onto the ground behind Seamus and joined the others. All four of them had been killed swiftly and mercilessly with only one casualty on the other side.
The surviving Englishman was on his knees, trembling. He looked up at Seamus, eyes glistening with tears and had his hands clasped together. “Don’t hurt me,” he pleaded. Seamus paused for a moment, studying him, but he made no comment.
“Is she alive?” Seamus asked. The man nodded and Seamus continued onto the carriage, intrigued to meet his betrothed for the first time.
5
Sarina had stayed in one place throughout the fight. As soon as she became aware that bandits were threatening her brothers, she heeded Matthew’s warning to stay inside. She wished she could help, but she had never been trained in the art of war (aside from some wrestling bouts with her brothers when they had been younger) and the only weapon she had in her possession was hidden in a small box on the roof of the carriage.
At first, the fight was merely noise to her. Since there were four bandits, she assumed it would be a swift fight. Although she believed in her brothers, she did not like that they were outmatched and had no desire to see them die. She looked behind her toward the forest and wondered if she could run to its embrace and disappear in the shadows, but she quickly dismissed that idea. These bandits would surely know the forest well and it would only be delaying the inevitable.
She had to think of something though for she was not going to sit there helplessly while her fate was decided for her. Then an idea struck her. She may not have had a weapon handy, but she had the carriage itself. If she could just get into the driver’s seat and take the reins, she might be able to escape, although she didn’t like the thought of leaving her brothers behind.
Summoning all the courage she could muster, she poked her head out of the door to survey the battlefield, ready to move to the front of the carriage if things looked bleak and her brothers had fallen. The color drained from her face as she saw Matthew charging ahead with a group of bandits ready to meet him. To her dismay, there were two more charging down the path behind. Four to two was difficult, but six to two was almost impossible and she began to face the possibility that she would have to flee.
The castle loomed on the horizon and it seemed as though that was the only sanctuary she might find. She could seek protection from her new husband if she could make it there alive. Sarina was about to open
the door when she watched the bandit’s sword plunge into Matthew’s stomach. Time seemed to slow and she couldn’t quite believe that this was happening. Matthew’s sword dropped to the ground and he fell forward. In an instant, she knew he was dead. She didn’t think she’d ever forget the sight of the sword protruding from his back. Harold wasn’t faring much better and the bandits now turned their attention to him. The other two were almost upon them and it was an ignominious end to their lives, but perhaps it was due punishment for the crime that Sarina had been ordered to commit. If she died at least she would not have to become a murderer.
She looked away momentarily, not wanting to see the massacre before her and not wanting to see Harold slaughtered like a pig, but more cries of pain greeted her ears and they were not the cries of her brother. She looked at the battlefield to see that she had been mistaken. This new entrant was no bandit, he was far too strong and powerful for that. He was tall, built like a mountain, and his entire body seemed to throb with primal energy. He cut through the bandits with a huge sword easily as though they were just blades of grass.
In a blur and with the flash and crash of steel on steel, the battle was over. Harold was on his knees as the huge titan was striding over the slain men and another rider carrying a bow and arrow followed. Breath caught in her throat as she realized that the titan was coming straight for the carriage. Her heart beat quickly as she sought to escape. In her mind, anyone who could fell so many bandits like that was a force to be reckoned with and not someone she wished to be acquainted with. For all she knew, he wanted her as a prize himself.
There was nowhere to run though. His long strides ate up the ground and before she knew it, he had opened the door. In one hand he dragged his sword behind him. Blood dripped from the blade. His hair was thick and long. His face set in a determined scowl, but his eyes… Sarina couldn’t believe how blue they were. Breath caught in her throat as she found herself in awe of him.
His body had been molded from years of toiling in these hard lands. He looked so big and so powerful that she wouldn’t have been surprised if he could uproot trees with his bare hands. There was something about him that transfixed her. She wanted to run. Fear rippled through her body, but there was something else inside her as well, something that scared her even more. She found that her hand rose to her chest and she felt her thundering heart. He was unlike any man she had ever seen.
Before she could do anything else, he was at the door of the carriage and was looking up at her. A thick beard covered half his face and now that he was closer, she could see the beginning of a scar at the top of his chest. She had no idea how far it ran down for he wore a loose vest. A thick bed of hair protruded from the deep neckline of his attire. He also wore a kilt. Although Sarina had known that Highlanders wore kilts, the sight of it still struck her as odd. She found herself looking at the man’s thick trunks of legs and the sinewy muscles there that were covered in thick hair. In some ways, he was more bear than man. Her father had always called them a wild, uncivilized people.
“Sarina?” he asked, her name sounding melodic in his deep Scottish brogue. The fact that he knew her name at all surprised her and made her shift back a little on her seat into the darkness and safety of the carriage. When she didn’t answer, he looked down at himself and his sword and then made a grunting sound. He dropped his sword to the ground and opened his hands, showing his palms.
“I am nae gaeing tae hurt ye,” he said.
Sarina had to spend a few moments parsing the words through his thick accent. He radiated masculinity and smelled earthy and warm. “How did you know my name?” Sarina asked. The Highlander smiled.
“I am Seamus. I am tae be ye husband.”
The color drained from Sarina’s face. This man was wild and brutal. There was a certain handsome quality about him, yes, but she could never have a man like this as a husband and she could never imagine him being a father. She couldn’t imagine him capable of tenderness, not when she had just witnessed such an act of primal savagery.
“The bandits are gone now, ye can come oot,” he said, assuming that her fear was due to the bandits and not due to him. She chose not to correct him on this occasion. He held out a hand and Sarina realized that she would not be able to hide in this carriage forever. She heard movement behind Seamus and her brother, Harold, appeared. He looked haggard and his face was drawn. Sarina took Seamus’ hand and hopped out of the carriage. The Highlander’s skin was leathery and tough. Her dainty fingers ran along the calluses she found there and for a brief moment, she felt a tingle run through the middle of her body, but she brushed it off and pushed past Seamus instead, rushing to her brother’s side.
She wrapped her arms around him, wanting to take care of him as she had when she was a child and Harold had fallen down and scraped his knee. Sarina checked him over for wounds. He seemed unharmed, although he was clearly shaken by the events. He was still trembling. Then, she looked past him at the fallen men. They were all sprawled on the floor and there was nothing differentiating her brother from the bandits aside from the clothes they wore. As she grew closer, she was surprised at how similar men looked when they had died.
Sarina looked with disdain at the bandits and when she reached Matthew, she put her hand over her mouth, trying to catch the sobs that threatened to escape. She doubled over and felt nausea swim in her stomach. His face was pale, the expression of surprise permanently etched upon it.
“Oh, Matthew, why did you have to try and be so brave?” she said, her voice broken and cracked with emotion. Tears fell from her eyes, rolling down her cheeks. Anger and sadness mixed inside her. Matthew never should have tried to take on those bandits alone.
“We should gae tae the castle,” Seamus said softly. “I am sorry for ye kin.”
“Sorry? Why weren’t you here? Why did you let this happen to my brother? Aren’t you the Laird of this place? How can you let bandits run around hurting innocent people?” Sarina shrieked, her voice hoarse and her throat raw. Seamus pressed his lips together.
“I’ll make arrangements for ye brother, but ye must come,” he said. He reached out with a hand, but Sarina pulled away.
“Sarina, let’s get back in the carriage. Seamus is right. We have to complete our journey,” Harold said gently and then took Sarina back to the carriage. She felt numb. The world had lost much of its color.
She was surprised when Harold got in the carriage and sat opposite her. When she looked at him, she imagined that she looked much the same: a pale face, shadows under her eyes, and red rivers swimming around the whites of her eyes.
“Seamus is going to drive the carriage back. I think his brother is going to carry Matthew to the castle as well. He thought it best that I didn’t drive,” Harold said, glancing down at his trembling hands.
“It’s all so senseless.” Sarina sighed. “Killed by bandits when we were just moments away from our destination.” A look of realization came upon her face. “Oh my… If I hadn’t made us stop to tend to that wounded deer, we may not have been stopped by these bandits at all. We might have made it to the castle and Matthew would still be here to annoy us.” She bit her lip and tried to stop the emotion from pouring out of her heart. It was so strange to admit that her brother was dead, speaking about him in such a way was only to try and fool herself that he was still alive.
“You can’t think that way, Sarina. It looked as though the bandits had this planned out. They must have known about the wedding and thought it was an opportune moment to strike. They would have done so no matter when we arrived. Matthew did his duty. He protected you. At least that’s something. If anyone is to blame it is I for I should have been by his side when he charged. I doubted him, thinking it was better to protect you and the carriage, but he knows more about war.”
“There is only one man to blame,” Sarina said, glaring beyond Harold. “He should never have let this happen in his own territory. What kind of Laird lets monsters like these accost innocent carriages?”
“I hate to admit it, but I would not be standing here if it wasn’t for him. He saved our lives, Sarina. I never thought a Highlander would be capable of such a heroic deed, but without him, I would be dead and you would be at the mercy of the bandits. I saw him riding down the hill. He came as quickly as he could. It was simply unfortunate that Matthew had already charged.”
“He still could have done something more,” Sarina said, scowling. “How can Thomas expect me to marry a man like this?”
“It is for the good of the family, Sarina,” Harold said. He stopped speaking after that, perhaps realizing how hollow his words sounded.
The carriage trundled along the path toward the castle. Sarina wiped the tears from her eyes, but her vision continued to be blurred. “We shall have to send word back to Thomas,” Sarina said after a few moments had passed.
“I shall tell him when I return.”
“You are going to leave me?” Sarina gasped, her eyes wide with shock. “Please, Harold, no.”
“Thomas wishes me to come back. There is much to do on the estate, especially now that Matthew is…” Matthew’s death was still too recent, too raw for Harold to talk about directly.
“You cannot leave me alone here, Harold. Please, I am scared. I’m sure Thomas will understand. Just for a few days more, please,” she said, leaning forward and clasping his hands in her own. Harold looked torn between her wishes and the orders of their elder brother.
“I shall think on it,” Harold said. Sarina didn’t hold much hope that he would stay. She knew how he thought—how all men thought. A woman’s place was by her husband’s side. As soon as she was married, she would cease to be the responsibility of Thomas and Harold to look after and instead, she would be bound to Seamus completely. Harold had always had a tender heart and been the kindest soul, but he had learned some harsh lessons from his brothers.