His tone lashed her. Breath coming in spurts, she lunged toward the narrow pathway. She must reach Seyber and go for help. Her guards needed her to alert the others. Now Brigham was her only hope. Safe. Her brute would keep them all safe.
Arms and legs pumping, she sprinted for the horses, fear in her mind, hope in her heart, a prayer on her lips. A foot from the trailhead, she stumbled. Whipping her mantle away from her legs, she tried to right her balance and regain her stride. Just as she succeeded, something grabbed hold of her from behind, wrapping around her ankles. Round and weighted, it whirled around in front of her, pulling her feet together, arresting her flight.
She flung her hands out to break her fall.
The ground came up hard. Her wrist buckled, pain a sharp companion to the taste of dirt and old leaves. A silent scream locked in her throat, she wheezed as she flipped onto her back. The leather cord, weighted by small metal balls, tightened around her calves, biting into her skin. Aurora ripped at the binding, fighting to win her way free.
Brigham. She must reach Mornay and her husband. If she didn’t—
A cry, raised in fury, echoed through the clearing. Fear tearing her apart, Aurora glanced away from the thin cord and screamed as she saw Tobias, blood on the tip of his sword, take another arrow.
“Nay! Tobias! Nay…nay… nay!” Sobs came, one after the other, as the wooden shaft propelled Tobias up and back, throwing him to the forest floor.
Tears clouding her vision, she kicked her legs to loosen the binding. Within moments, the dell came alive with the men. The vermin. The yellow-bellied bastards. The lot relied on ambush, instead of fighting fair. Scooting backward, she fought to put distance between herself and the blackguards coming across turf now covered in blood.
A man separated himself from the rest of the pack, coming to stand over her. “Well met, my pretty.”
Oh, nay. God help her. Boyd. Her uncle’s brutal henchman.
Disbelief spun her around the lip of terror. Fear won out, shoving doubt aside. Sucking in a desperate breath, Aurora cringed and shrank from him. Without mercy, he pursued, grabbing her cloak just above her breastbone. Fingernails digging into her skin, Boyd drew her up by the material and struck. His fist drilled her. Blood washed into her mouth as her face snapped to one side. He hit her again. The world went black, dragging her further from Brigham and the protection he provided.
EPISODE TEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Trouble at Mornay
The black’s hooves hammered on the wooden planks of the drawbridge. Brigham barely noticed. His attention on the battlements, he frowned. Guards were missing along the outer wall. Which could only mean one thing…
Trouble.
More than just what he’d already encountered this morrow.
Unease swirled in the pit of his stomach. Putting his heels to his warhorse, he rode beneath the portcullis. The jagged teeth of the metal gate snarled overhead. Instinct circled into worry as he entered the outer bailey. Something was wrong. The sensation had plagued him all morning. Ever since a trio of his sentries had come to find him at the mill. Why? To relay information and turn his attention northward.
To where a group of gypsies had made camp near his land.
The news wasn’t startling in and of itself. Many roamed the land in search of work, or with the intention of living off the forest and all it provided. The rabble camping a stone’s throw from his northern border, however? He shook his head. Experience told him to be wary. Long-standing annoyance made him want to kick Lord Goodall—the baron who owned the parcel of land and never patrolled it with proper vigilance—all the way to London. Brigham snorted. Christ help him. The old goat still didn’t have a clue. Or any wits to hang one on. A problem to be sure. But one Brigham now took in stride. He’d dealt with the fool long enough to know it would never change. So aye. Responsibility for the group camped inside Lord Goodall’s border fell to him. Still…
The muscles between his shoulder blades tightened. There it went again. The strain of disquiet. The niggle of worry. The sinking, unsettling feeling that wouldn’t let him go.
Brigham rolled his shoulders, combating the tension. What bothered him about these particular gypsies? He didn’t know. Couldn’t put his finger on it. Not exactly. ’Twas not their presence so much but the description given to him by his sentry. Cause for concern? Without a doubt. A place he must take action? Absolutely.
The group—and the men it comprised—was wrong. All wrong.
He dealt with gypsies from time to time. Accustomed to their roaming, he knew what to expect from the bands that frequented the area. And had always granted them safe passage across his lands, even going so far as to permit them to camp near the river to the west of Mornay Castle. Always respectful, the groups abided by his rules: no pillaging, no thievery, no damage to his forests and a tidy camp site when they left.
None had ever given him cause for concern. Until now. Which meant a visit was in order. One he would see to after the midday meal.
With a nod, Brigham rounded the corner, rode into the inner bailey and…
Drew rein hard. The black stopped short, hooves skidding on slick cobblestone.
Alarm bells went off inside his head. Brigham’s brows collided as he took in the scene. Out of control, Seyber paced the length of the courtyard. Teeth bared, she reared, eyes rolling, hooves flashing, backing away from two stable lads who tried to catch her. His gaze narrowed on his first in command. Bloody hell. Not good. Camden appeared to be contending with a crisis of his own. One that began and ended with Louis. As irate as the mare, the stable master jumped up and down, arms flying as he gestured with wild abandon.
Battle-honed instinct roared a warning.
Dread pricked down his spine. With a quick jerk, Brigham reined in beside Camden. He dismounted and, stepping in front of his friend, grabbed Louis. One fist buried in the stable master's tunic, Brigham lifted. The stable master’s feet left the ground.
“Quiet.” His soft, lethal tone slithered through air, cutting through Louis’ panic. With a shiver, the stable master stopped babbling. The moment he settled, Brigham glanced to his right. Green eyes met his. “Tell me.”
Breathing hard, as though he’d sprinted all the way from the practice field, Camden shook his head. “I haven’t been able to determine—”
“The lass…’tis the lass, m’lord.” Eyes as round as minted coins, the Scot’s chest pumped, pushing against Brigham’s knuckles. “Her lady came back without her. She never—”
Brigham scowled. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Our beloved lass is missin’. Seyber came back upset and without our lass on her back. And them two nitwits what took her out, they ain’t been back neither,” Louis said, wringing his hands. “I knew it! I knew somethin’ bad would happen when she went out with her bow, and now—there’s trouble, I know there’s—”
With a snarl, Brigham threw his head back and roared.
Echoing through the halls of Mornay, the shout of fury served one purpose. It called his men to battle. Told them to armor up and button down. Caused each one to come running, with the added bonus of interrupting Louis and his escalating diatribe. Within minutes, forty of his most seasoned warriors had assembled in the courtyard. Armed and outfitted, the group prepared to ride.
While his soldiers saddled their mounts, Brigham glared at his stable master. “Where?”
“I’ve no notion where they was off to, m’lord,” the Scot said, quivering in upset. “Somewhere close, I’m thinkin’. The lass would never miss the noonday meal, ye know?”
“She took her bow?” Murder in his eyes, Camden sheathed twin daggers.
“Aye. Bent on a bit of huntin’s my guess.”
“Bloody everlasting hell,” Brigham half whispered, half growled, worry making him itch with impatience. He needed to be away in search of his vixen. Right now. But couldn’t leave. Not without his men at his back. Riding out alone would be the height
of stupidity, particularly if what he suspected was true. “Goddamn it.”
“We’ll find her, Brigham.” Camden’s hand landed on his shoulder. His friend gave him a reassuring squeeze. “Her mare probably got away while they were hunting. She’s no doubt returning to the keep with Nigel and Tobias as we speak—hale and hearty.”
God willing. He didn’t know what he’d do if…
Nay. Brigham shook his head, combating fear as it pierced through to find his heart. He refused to think that way. His throat went tight. He shook free of terrible thoughts—all the what ifs and negative outcomes—and turned toward the black. As he grabbed the reins, he sent a prayer heavenward, hoping beyond hope Camden was right and naught serious had befallen Aurora.
His teeth clenched, Brigham scanned the inner courtyard. Mounted and ready, his men awaited his order. Christ, the scene was nightmarish, dragging him back to another time and place. To memories made seven years ago. To Maria and the awful lash of her betrayal. But this time was different. He rode out in search of a woman he trusted. Out after Aurora…his vixen, his woman and equal. And for the first time in his life, he understood true terror. Lived it. Breathed it. Became it…tortured by the thought she might be in trouble and he was not yet there to protect her.
“Please God, don’t take her away.” He murmured the entreaty under his breath, hope rising even as fear sank deep inside him. “Let her be all right.”
He repeated the phrase in his head until it became a chant, then turned to lead his warriors through the gates of Mornay. He drew rein when an ear-piercing shriek split the air. Realizing the sound came from Aurora’s mare, an idea sparked to life, faith along with it.
Swiveling in his saddle, he shouted at the stable-hands. “Let her go, lads.”
As soon as the pair released her, Seyber bolted. Hooves flying, she took flight in a flash of pale silver, racing through the castle gates and out to the open fields beyond. Brigham followed, keeping pace but never overtaking the mare as she tracked east toward a section of lush forest. The mare slowed as she approached the woods. Skirting its perimeter, she stopped, blowing hard, next to two mounts still tied to tree limbs. The branches between them were twisted and broken, as though Seyber had broken away in a panic.
Brigham slid from his saddle. His boots hit the ground without making a sound. Signaling to his men, he approached the mare. As he reached her, he stroked a hand down the side of her neck. Lathered with sweat, she shivered with exertion. Seyber blew hard. He loosened the cinch on the saddle and caressed her muzzle.
“Good girl,” he said, praising her as he assessed the scene.
Deadly calm slid through him. Brigham fell into the familiar sensation. Calm. Cold-hearted. And even-tempered. Just like before battle. Exactly the way he needed to be in order to help Aurora. He motioned to the men dismounting behind him. The icy chill of lethal intent slipping through his veins, he patted Seyber one last time and drew his sword. Leaving Camden and the others to take the rear position, Brigham moved with soundless efficiency. As he made his way down the trail, he noted the impressions in the dirt. Three sets of boot prints—two large, one small.
Aye, without a doubt. His vixen had been here.
Reaching the edge of the dell, Brigham growled and sheathed his weapon. Bloody hell. Nigel and Tobias both lay prone, unmoving on the ground. Keeping low, he hurried toward the soldier closest to him and assessed Nigel first. A deep wound slashed across one temple, but he still breathed, his pulse strong and even. Tobias, however, had not fared as well. Hit in two places, one arrowhead protruded through his shoulder. ’Twas the other that worried Brigham. Buried an inch above his heart, the shaft pointed skyward, feathers quivering as Tobias took a labored breath.
He pressed his fingers to the side of Tobias’s neck. Damnation. Not good. His guard was in serious trouble if they didn’t get him to Mornay…fast. Brigham pushed to his feet. “Thomas, take three of the men. Get Nigel and Tobias back to the keep and see to their care.”
Thomas nodded and moved to obey. Motioning for three of the younger soldiers to accompany him, his guard began the careful task of seeing to the injured men’s care.
Standing still and silent, Brigham scanned the area. He saw everything. Every nuance of the clearing. The chaotic pattern of footprints—their number and direction. Which way the attackers had come from and gone. The broken twigs on the ground and in the surrounding shrubbery. And last but not least, the redwood bow that lay abandoned in the dirt, its white fletched arrows scattered in disarray around the matching quiver. Rage, hot and thick, boiled up from the depths of his soul.
An ambush. The bastards had taken his wife.
“Five, mayhap six…moving east on foot,” Camden said, stepping alongside Brigham.
Sinking to his haunches, Brigham drew a fingertip around an impression left by one of the assailants in the earth. “Seven…there were seven here.”
Camden grunted. Green eyes glittering like chips of ice, he bared his teeth. “They are either very foolish or far too confident.”
“Aye,” Brigham said with chilling softness. “They left us a trail.”
A trail to follow and track.
The fools. None had any idea with whom they dealt. Nor who they’d stolen from. No matter. No mercy either. The bastards would discover the truth soon enough when he arrived to protect his wife and felled them where they stood. For taking his vixen. For frightening her. For daring to touch the woman who’d become his pride and joy. Aye, he would butcher them all…every last one.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Too Little, Too Late
Aurora regained consciousness in slow degrees. Layer by layer, the mental fog thinned until the last wisp lifted. Her senses pricked. The pain arrived next, washing in on an anguish-filled wave, dragging her into awareness. Through the agonizing haze, a few things registered, the thick smell of ocean brine chief among them. As the realization flooded in, questions surfaced, but…
God, she couldn’t get her bearings.
A terrible ache ate at her temples, drilling into her skull. Her eyes refused to open. And her body? Lord help her, everything hurt: muscles, bones, the individual hairs atop her head. Drawing a shallow breath, she fought through the agony. She needed to gain a finger-hold in something concrete. Something solid and true. Something…anything…that would clear her mind and help her think. Without opening her eyes, she listened, senses attuned and— Huh. Leaves….rustling somewhere overhead.
Birds too—the quiet flap of wings and soft twitters as one called to the next high above her head. But that wasn’t all. Horses stood nearby. A lot of them. She could tell by the shuffle and scrape of hooves on hard ground. Aurora frowned. Were they camping again? Nay, that wasn’t right. Brigham had brought her home weeks ago. Why, then, did her head hurt? More questions circled. The pain shadowed her, clinging like the sticky strands of a cobweb. Her eyelashes flickered. Nothing but blur greeted her. She closed her lids again and listened harder.
A low masculine rumble combined with the faint sound of ocean swells.
She stirred. And then wished she hadn’t. The pain grew worse every time she moved. Swallowing a whimper, Aurora tugged on her arms, wanting to curl into a ball. Something pulled back, impeding her forward progress. Confusion struck, annoyance its companion. What the devil was going on? Renewing the battle with her eyelids, she forced them open. Aurora blinked. Her vision cleared, bringing her hands—and the rope around her wrists—into unforgiving focus.
She sucked in a quick breath. The rope creaked. Dear God, she was hanging—like a fresh kill—from a tree branch.
Panic slithered in like a venomous snake. Toes just touching the ground, Aurora paddled with her feet. She rotated a half circle, swaying in a slight swinging motion and…oh nay. She squeezed her eyes shut. Like a puzzle, her mind assembled the facts, supplying each horrific detail one piece at time—the ambush, Nigel and Tobias lying unmoving on the turf, Boyd and his coiled fist coming toward her.
/> Then naught but darkness. Blessed oblivion.
She wanted it again—to escape inside her own mind and pretend she was safe in bed with Brigham wrapped around her. But no amount of wishing would make it so. Reality never compromised. The rope binding her—along with the pain—made that abundantly clear. Her situation had surpassed dangerous. Surrounded by her enemies, it approached the point of no return. Which meant…what? Certain death. Execution without the hope of absolution.
“Ahh, the sleepin’ beauty’s awake.”
The guttural rasp scraped her raw. Fear oozed like pus from a cut, spreading through her like an infection, killing rational thought, and hope along with it. But then, ’twas no way to think now, was it? Forget her capture. Screw the rope along with the man who’d wound it around her wrists. She might be hanging but she wasn’t dead yet. And panic wouldn’t aid her. A quick mind and a well-executed game plan, however...
Aye. Without a doubt. Both would serve her well…as long as she played for keeps and kept her wits about her. Courage, after all, never went out of style.
Summoning her strength, Aurora leveled her chin and squinted through sunlight. Boots planted a few feet away, Boyd stood watching her, a look of intense pleasure on his flat face. She swallowed, tasting blood as bile rose in her throat. Her uncle’s brutal henchman grinned. Mouth stretched in a hideous leer over blackened teeth, he stepped in close. The fetid odor of his breath washed in around her. Aurora’s stomach heaved. She clenched her hands around the rope, steadying herself as he ran one blunt fingertip down the side of her face. With a twist of his hand, he pressed against the bruise on her cheekbone.
Aurora turned away, but not before he saw her flinch.
His smile widened. “Not so pretty now, are ye?”
“I’ll recover,” she said, her voice steady. How she managed it, she didn’t know. Especially since she trembled inside, heart dipping into fear, dread tightening its claws, the certainty of death holding her hostage. But for all that, she refused to show it. The power of courage? Or the mark of stupidity? Aurora couldn’t be sure. “The real question, though, is will you?”
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