Page 6 of The Highlander's Temporary Bride
Their accents were as close to his own as the English could manage, and yet these folks were terribly proud—sometimes worse than a Londoner in their adamant loyalty to the Crown. They also were not the sloppy bandits who’d killed the old grandfather on the road.
No, these Shillmoor men posed an actual challenge, and Grant felt a surge of excitement and wariness.
With a wicked grin, Grant huffed out a soft laugh and twirled his blade. His opponent blanched and backed up, his sword dipping toward the earth. At the same time, he heard a sharp whistle, and saw the gleam in his opponent’s eyes.
With a gasp, Grant spun around and barely missed the dirk that came his way, pinning his sleeve to a tree bole. Another came, and he knocked it down with his sword, driving it into the earth. But by the time he’d wrenched the dirk free, the other bandit he’d been fighting had vanished, and the big brute was scrambling to escape, the cloth around his face torn.
Grant stalked over to him and kicked the back of his knees, causing him to fall to the ground. Then, he kicked him again, forcing him onto his back. The man groaned and wheezed, spitting out blood, then winced as a dirk sank into the ground by his head.
“Who are ye?” Grant snarled, leveling his blade at the man. “And who is that?—?”
He sucked in a breath and spun, but he already knew.
The lass had fled.
Dammit.
His pulse quickened with fury and fear. What if the other brutes got to her?
“Speak now,” Grant rasped.
But the man’s eyes had widened. “The Devil of Banrose.”
Grant only smirked, bowing mockingly to him.
The man’s lip curled even as fear filled his eyes. “Go to hell. The lot of ye. We shall not let the Queen fill our land with yer rotten blood of the north, and I know my comrade who got away shall see it done—ye shall not see him comin’. He willkillyou all–”
The brute gasped and gargled as Grant’s blade sank into his belly and then cut his throat.
Grant spat and then began to run, his eyes darting across the forest floor. The lass had not bothered to cover her tracks—she probably knew nothing of such things. His strange anxiety heightened. He did not want to see her hurt—he had tofindher.
I shall catch ye, lass.
Harsh breaths tore from Emma’s lips as she rushed through the forest, her skirts hiked up and her hair tumbling loose. Behind her, the forest rustled with the wind, echoing the distant baying and even more distant shouts.
She was certain she had lost them, but those men were not who she feared, no.
Abruptly, she came to a grassy incline and scrambled up it. The evening was cold. It was mid-spring, but in this cove tucked into Northern England, the seasons were at the whims of the sea.
She inhaled the salt and pine when she reached the top. Though she wanted to keep moving, Emma was finally forced to lean against a tree until her heart and lungs stopped burning.
Through a break in the trees, she saw the distant glimmer of the sea, and her heart misgave her. How could she hope to get to her best friend’s family cottage before the sun rose?
So many things had gone wrong in so little time. Yet, she’d made it this far and was not wed to the Beast of Briorn.
Once she made it to the cottage, she and Helena would leave these shores forever, two friends free from the fates that others wanted to impose on them.
I will not marry a Scottish Laird as long as I draw breath.
Pushing back her dark hair, Emma took a deep breath and began to walk again. She picked her way carefully through the woods, her mind unable to stop from noticing the plants blooming around her, naming the flowers and the trees. It soothed her, and by the time she reached an open glade, the green brighter than the gray wood around her and a sweet fragrance of violets in the air, she was calm again.
A smile touched her lips as she stepped into the empty space and stretched out her arms, her heart light.
Not far now.
When she lifted her head, she heard nothing. Her ploy had worked—she knew enough about herbs and woods to throw off any tracker.
Suddenly, a twig snapped from behind her, and she whirled. Eyes wide, she searched the shadows as she took a step back.
