Page 4 of Highlander's Captive Bride
Run?Where?
Daisy desperately looked about her, her mind numb with panic as she sought an escape route, but her eyes were dragged back to the hellish scene being played out before her. The screams of wounded and dying men filled her ears, and the nauseating smell of blood pervaded the air as her escort was slaughtered before her eyes.
Her eyes were drawn to Fergus, who was battling ferociously with the taller, bigger Bellamy Kane. The giant wielded his sword like an extension of his muscular arm, his mighty blows gradually forcing Fergus backwards. She stared in terror as her protector fought bravely in her defense yet fell slowly back under the rain of relentless blows hammering down on him.
She began to sob when, with a final flourish, Bellamy parried Fergus’s answering strike, then rammed his dirk up to the hilt into the sergeant’s heart, eliciting an anguished, choking scream as Fergus dropped to his knees, clutching his chest.
Bellamy then put his foot on Fergus’s belly and pulled the blade free, wiping it on his trews and smoothly re-sheathing it. Panting with exertion, the devil then turned and looked in her direction.
Run!
Daisy leaped to her feet and took off into the trees, praying he hadn’t really seen her but knowing he had been looking right at her. A terrible, cold fear gripped her as she dashed as fast as she could through the trees, tripping and dodging branches, looking left and right for a hiding place.
If he catches me…
The sounds of him crashing through the undergrowth, swearing and grunting under his breath, spurred her on. She made it to an earthen bank and began the ascent, thinking if she could get over the other side, she might be able to hide well enough so as not to be found.
But as she scrambled upwards, a fist of steel suddenly closed around her ankle and dragged her back down.
An unearthly shriek split the air, and she realized it had come from her. Her entire body felt like it had been drenched in freezing water as she desperately fought to free herself. But the fist only tightened painfully as she kicked and struggled.
At last, exhausted and sobbing in terror, her heart pounding in her ears, she turned her head, to see the terrifying figure standing over her. It was dripping with blood, its shadowed features dark and hollow in the dim dawn light. It was the visage of a demon from a nightmare.
The face seemed to split open, revealing a fleeting flash of white amid the gloom. She realized it was grinning.
In a rumbling voice like gravel, Bellamy said, “Got ye.”
2
Despite his constant, nagging fear for Elodie, as he rode with his captive behind him down a narrow, rocky pass, Bellamy had to admit he was enjoying himself. Not only had he procured what he sought and had a fine fight that had eliminated any witnesses to boot, but it was turning out to be the most interesting kidnap he’d ever staged.
This wee slip of a lass was arrestingly beautiful, with her deep-brown, doe eyes that flashed with anger, long, silky, dark-brown hair, and enticing curves. But she was fascinating, too. He could not help admiring her for her courage and wit when she had continued to argue with him so fearlessly, seemingly immune to his threats.
She isnae exactly what I was expecting, though. Healers are supposed to be old and ugly, are they nae? I just pray for Elodie’s sake that this slip of a lass lives up to her reputation.
As evening drew in, he decided it was time to look for a place to make camp for the night. They were approaching a stand of pine trees next to a fast-flowing burn fringed by soft turf. Bellamy surveyed the rocky crags above, but no threat seemed apparent.
He knew they were about forty miles from Castle Murdoch, a distance easily achievable by sundown the following day, even with their mounts carefully picking their way over the often treacherous mountainous terrain.
“We’ll rest here for the night and leave at dawn,” he commanded as they rode beneath the trees. Birdsong and the wild music of the tumbling water was the only sound to disturb the tranquility of the day. “Let the horses rest and eat yer rations.”
With some exclamations of relief, the party clanked to a halt. One by one, the men dismounted, rummaging in their saddlebags for any provisions they had brought to sustain them before turning their beasts loose to eat and drink their fill by the burn.
Bellamy swung down frontwise from the saddle, then turned to lift the healer down. She was as light as thistle seeds blowing in the breeze. His hands spanned her slender waist easily, and she must have been aware they could just as easily snap her in two if they so wished.
However, if so, it did nothing to cow her spirit. She huffed and glared at him as she steadied herself on her feet and brushed down her dress. He motioned for her to sit on a nearby rock.
Her lips pursed, she obeyed, but he did not take his eyes off her as he unbuckled his saddlebag and took out some provisions wrapped in oilcloth. He slapped his horse’s rump affectionately and sent him off to drink with the others before sitting down beside her, not trusting her not to try to run away. Unwrapping the cloth, he took half of the bread and cheese within and offered them to her.
“Nay. I’m nae hungry after seeing all that slaughter,” she said haughtily, looking away.
“Eat,” he ordered, thrusting the food at her.
Flashing him a furious glance, she snatched the bread and cheese from his hand and nibbled at it, clearly forcing herself to do so. He chuckled inwardly, thinking she must be as hungry as he was, but he supposed that seeing her escort cut down in front of her eyes might have affected her appetite.
No matter. Whatever the circumstances, no one was going to accuse him of not feeding her. Besides, he needed her in good fettle to do her job.
Firewood was gathered, and a fire was soon blazing. Tea was made, and after a generous dash of whisky was added to the mixture, the hot beverage was handed around in horn cups. The men sat around the fire, eating, drinking, and talking amongst themselves.
