Page 23 of Transporting a Ruthless Highlander
Gavina gave a scornful laugh. “Dinnae release me fae anything,” she said scathingly. “If I want tae be released, I will tell ye so—unless ye are tryin’ tae get rid o’ me.”
“I would never do that,” he assured her. “I vowed to help you, and I will.”
Gavina opened her mouth to give a caustic reply, but at that moment there was a crashing, rending noise from the trees beside them, and she squealed in alarm as another horse galloped toward them at full speed. It skidded as it drew to a halt, turning sideways at the last moment so that its rear end bumped into Struan.
However, Struan’s reflexes had been sharpened and tested in battle, and although he swayed on the horse’s back, he did not fall off. The dagger he had stolen from the other horseman seemed to leap into his hand, and he swiped it across the face of the other rider. The man screamed, wobbled in the saddle, and lost control of his horse, which dumped him onto the rough ground. The horse galloped away in a panic.
Nevertheless, there were still three other riders to be dealt with, and they began to go around Struan and Gavina in a slow circle, taunting them. They were all criminals who could just about sit on a horse without falling off, but Struan was a skilled horseman.
Moreover, even though there were two people in the saddle, their horse was enormous and used to fighting. In fact, he was a weapon in his own right, and it was clear that the other horses were wary of him.
“Hey!” one of the bandits shouted, leering at Gavina. “Come away wi’ us, hen! Leave that big eejit here. We’ll look after ye!”
“I will kill ye first!” she yelled, drawing a mocking laugh from the bandits. She was seething with rage and utterly terrified, but in the blurring confusion of the conflict, she had no time to think clearly. Her instincts told her she had to fight and fight fiercely. God only knew what these savages would do to her if they caught her.
Struan turned and charged at one of the others head-on, roaring at the top of his voice as he swung the dagger again, this time cutting a deep slicing wound down his enemy’s arm. After that, Gavina kicked him with all her might, and he fell from his mount to be trampled on by the next bandit’s horse. The horse stepped on him and immediately reared up, throwing his rider on the ground where he hit his head and lay dazed until the whole incident was over.
The last outlaw might have ridden away, but Struan would not let him. Gavina, overcome by the raging fury she felt, leaned over as the horses came within a foot of each other and plunged the small, sharp eating knife she always carried into the outlaw’s face. It was not a deep cut, but it infuriated the man, who caught Gavina on her side with a sideways swipe of his dagger. She screamed but clung to the saddle pommel for dear life and managed to stay astride the stallion.
Struan had a stronger arm than Gavina, however. He aimed his dagger at the robber’s heart, where it embedded itself, spurting out great gouts of blood. It was obvious the bandit was dead, and Struan felt a grim satisfaction as his hand came away covered in red gore.
For the moment, the fight was at an end, although Struan could see that three of the men were less seriously wounded. He regretted the untimely death of the other man, even though he had been a criminal. But then, who knew what the outlaw might have done if Struan had not dealt with him?
“Thank God,” he breathed as he looked behind him. Three of the bandits were dazed and bleeding, and two of them were trying to crawl over to their dead comrade. Struan knew that he would not be so lucky as to get away again if he tried to go back and finish them off or capture them. Anyway, he had no appetite for more bloodshed. There had been too much of it in his life already. He turned his horse’s head and began to ride away. He had to concentrate on the task ahead.
“How do you feel, Gavina?” he asked anxiously. “That was a shock for both of us, but I know you have never had any experience of battle before, and I am proud of you. You did very well. Thank you.”
“I did what I had tae dae, an’ I feel fine,” she replied. Her vision was beginning to blur, but she closed her eyes for a moment and everything came back into focus again. She felt a strange, otherworldly feeling creep over her.
“Are you sure? Will you tell me if we need to stop?” He sounded doubtful. He could sense that something was not right.
Gavina nodded. Her heart was still slowing down, and she was trembling with the aftershock of what had happened. She would never forget the leering, animalistic faces of the outlaws or their foul words. Even the sound of their horses’ hoofbeats, still ringing in her ears, scared her. Her experience had shocked her to the core, but after his few kind words, which he had no doubt said to salve his conscience, Struan seemed unconcerned.
Gavina’s wound began to sting in earnest as they moved on, but she gritted her teeth to stop herself from groaning and screwed her eyes shut. She knew that if she made a fuss Struan would insist on helping her, and after his treatment of her the previous night, she no longer wanted his hands on her.
However, after a while, the pain worsened. Gavina moaned in agony as she looked at the blood welling out of her side, then clamped her hand down onto it to try to staunch the bleeding, but she was unable to, and it began to drip onto the saddle.
“Gavina!” Struan exclaimed as he saw the wound. “Are you all right?”
“I am fine,” she replied irritably. “Leave me alone.”
“Forgive me if I do not believe you,” he remarked in the same tone. “Keep your hand on that, and we will find a place to stop and treat it.”
A short while later, they saw a farmhouse in the distance. It was a typical old cottage, and as Struan drew up outside it, he could see that although it was no longer occupied, it still had some old furniture in it. Perhaps there was a bed.
“Thank God,” Struan breathed. He dismounted and helped Gavina down, noticing with alarm that her skin was chalk white. As soon as her feet touched the ground, her knees buckled, and she would have fallen if he had not swept her up in his arms.
“Damn you, you stubborn woman!” he growled. “Why did you not tell me you were hurt when I asked you?”
The owners of the house had obviously deserted it a long time ago because there was a huge hole in the thatched roof, and the earthen floor below it was covered in mold and grass. The whole place stank of dampness, but it would have to do.
“There is a fireplace here, Gavina,” he said soothingly. “At least we will not be cold.” He laid her down tenderly on the floor and went to see if he could find a soft place for her to lie down. He found some straw pallets, but they had all been colonized by mice, so he went into the barn, where he found some old blankets and linen sacks. The straw there was reasonably clean so he took it into the house and laid it on the floor, spread a blanket on it, and laid her down tenderly before setting the second one on top of her.
Struan inched up her bloodied shirt and saw the raw edges of the wound. It was three inches long; blood was still oozing from it, but he could see that the flow had slowed down a little. It was only a flesh wound and clearly needed to be stitched, but that was a painful process, and he had no way of doing it. He found an old, cracked goblet and filled it with water from the burn at the back of the cottage, then cleaned the cut and wrapped one of the sacks around it.
He would take Gavina to a healer as soon as he could, but for now, this was the best he could do. He made a meager fire in the grate and lay down, hopefully to sleep.
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