Page 52 of The Highlander's Virgin Nun
Rosaline gripped the dagger in her hand, prepared to use it to at least buy Caelan some time. She doubted that she could kill either of these men, but if she could at least dodge their swords, she could perhaps stab somewhere painful enough to make them pause for just long enough.
“When I tap yer side, I want ye to duck down and slide between me legs,” Caelan muttered under his breath, without even moving his lips.
His voice was so quiet that Rosaline was barely able to decipher the words. But once she had, she bent her knees beneath her dress, pretending to cower in fear, lowering herself so she could move as swiftly as possible.
“It’s all over now, Sinclair. We told ye we would get ye one day. The day has finally come,” the third attacker snarled.
“Come and get it then, ye heathen,” Caelan growled.
The man advanced quickly, his sword rising above his head, ready to strike.
Rosaline heard the fourth attacker’s footsteps pounding into the ground behind them, approaching as quickly as his large body allowed. She was desperate to duck out of sight. Her skin burned in areas she thought might take the first hit, but she trusted that Caelan wanted her to wait for the right moment. It felt like an eternity, waiting for the tap.
Just as she heard the fourth attacker’s footsteps get within five feet of her and the other arrive within swinging distance of Caelan, she felt a tap on her side.
She ducked down and dived between Caelan’s legs. The one in front swung at Caelan and nicked his neck, but Caelan drove his sword straight through his chest, burying it deep between his ribs.
Just as the man fell, Caelan snatched up his sword, leaving his own in the man’s chest.
The fourth attacker swung his sword directly where Rosaline’s head had been only moments ago and pierced through the air in which she had stood. Caelan twisted his torso without moving his legs and used all of his strength to catch the man from behind, right in the side, cutting through flesh and muscle.
Blood poured down the man’s kilt as he fell to the ground and landed on his belly, his face directly across from Rosaline’s. She saw the blood drain from his face and the life leave his eyes.
Eventually, the noises of nature returned, accompanied by the whimpers of dying men and the spray of blood.
Rosaline was suddenly lifted from the ground; she could feel Caelan’s hands under her arms. He placed her on her feet, took her hand, and dragged her out of the trees.
She felt her body move, but her mind had gone blank. She was in total shock, her mouth hanging open, her eyes filled with tears that would not even fall.
Once out of the trees and in plain sight, Caelan finally slowed their pace.
“Send guards to the forest; we have been attacked!” Caelan yelled to the farmhands, who sprang into action and ran for the castle gates.
Caelan lowered Rosaline to the ground and knelt before her. She saw blood on his neck and arm where the enemy’s blade had caught him, and the spray of the attackers’ blood on his face and clothes, just like the first time she had laid eyes on him.
“Are ye all right? Did they hurt ye?” he asked, a hint of panic in his voice. He lifted her arms and checked her legs.
“Nay, I wasnae hurt,” Rosaline managed, wanting him to stop his frantic movements.
“Rosaline,” Caelan exhaled, his shoulders slumping. “I am so sorry.”
“It isnae yer fault. Ye couldnae have?—”
“It is. It is me fault for bringin’ ye into such a dangerous world.”
Rosaline shook her head, but Caelan’s eyes had dropped to the ground.
“Ye have to leave. I am sendin’ ye back to yer braither.”
CHAPTERTWENTY-ONE
“What?” Rosalise sputtered, her eyebrows knitting together.
Caelan realized that she thought she had misheard him as they both panted for breath.
“Ye have to go back to yer braither. I am goin’ to send for him.”
Rosaline scrambled to her feet. She took a step back as if to see him from farther away, to glean something she must have missed.
