Page 74 of The Scottish Bride
She glimpsed something from the corner of her eye. Gray spirals drifted upward to join the high white clouds. “Is that smoke?” she asked. “Near the abbey?”
Allan stirred, Gideon too. “Fire!” Allan called. “Is it Holyoak?”
Behind them, Tamsin watched the spirals of smoke darken, thicken skyward.
“It must be at the abbey,” Gideon said. “But there is too much smoke for a bonfire. We had nothing planned that I heard about.”
“Look there,” Allan said. “Who is that?”
Now Tamsin saw men on horseback coming fast along the drover’s track. “Liam and the others?” she asked, but even as she spoke, she realized these riders were burly men in full armor, riding heavy and intently after them. And some wore red and gold.
The riders sank behind the rim of a hillock, reappearing again to come onward, crossing a stretch of open moorland now.
Fire,she remembered then.Fire in the abbey,she had told Liam. Her heart sank.
She set a hand to her throat with a deep gasp. Fire at Holyoak, and men attacking—please, it could not be, she prayed. Liam knew, and she had warned Gideon too. But her warning had not stopped it. She gripped the side of the cart and watched the pursuing riders, the smoke curling into the sky, while the wheels bumped roughly over the track.
Gideon urged the ponies faster, and the stodgy pair moved into a clumsy canter. “Hey! Go, you beasts, move! Allan, take the reins,” he directed. “Climb over. Take the lady into Ettrick Forest fast as you can go.”
“Where are you going?” Tamsin asked as Allan scrambled forward.
“Back to Holyoak.” Gideon leaped down from the moving vehicle, rolling with the fall, rising to his feet. “Brother, hurry!”
As he ran diagonally toward a band of pine trees, Tamsin realized he meant to cut back to the abbey through the grove. The riders came onward, perhaps not seeing the monk, ever relentless in catching the vehicle.
“Allan, who are they? Why would they fire the abbey?” Tamsin asked, frantic.
“English soldiers! I do not know why they would attack Holyoak or chase us.” He hurried the ponies onward. “We are a monk and a woman. Perhaps they are hellbent elsewhere and will pass us.”
She knew they would not. “They are after me! I brought trouble to all of you.”
“We could reach the shelter of the forest if these beasts would hurry. Hi, go!”
Now the riders were closer. Four, Tamsin saw, recognizing none of them. They were not Dalrinnie’s men. If they wanted her—and if they had fired the abbey—Sir Malise was behind it. If anyone was harmed, it would be her fault. In leaving Dalrinnie, she had brought disaster to Holyoak. No vision or warning would change that.
The cart rumbled and bucked as Allan urged the ponies over the turf. Holding on desperately, Tamsin saw the pursuers riding fiercely. God be thanked, Gideon had escaped notice. Glancing toward the tree ridge, she glimpsed a dark form moving between the trees.
But he turned back toward the track. Carrying a long tree limb, he tucked it horizontally as he ran, as if it were a jousting pole and he a horseless knight.
Angling across the meadow, he cut behind the riders, running like a fury over the earthen track, pounding after them unseen. Ducking, he thrust the long, thick branch between the rear legs of the last horse. It stumbled, keeping its footing but falling behind. Circling and neighing, it rose on hind legs until the knight in the saddle tipped and fought for control.
Swiftly Gideon whacked the branch upward to unseat the rider and throw him hard to the ground. Tamsin cried out, watching Gideon wield the limb like a club, a single blow sprawling the knight on the grass. Catching up the man’s sword, Gideon grabbed the horse’s reins and leaped astride, tunic loose, bare legs tight against the animal’s sides.
“Allan!” she cried. “Gideon! Look!”
“God’s bones!” he burst out just as Gideon rode after the knights still following the racing cart. Allan shouted to the ponies and snapped the reins to coax them to a canter that had the cart careening and bumping. Tamsin clung to the side, jounced hard against the wood. Kegs thunked about; one slammed into her and she shoved it away.
More riders appeared behind Gideon, one in Edward’s colors, another with a dark cloak flying out. The monk on horseback would be hemmed in and taken down.
“Gideon!” she screamed.“Gideon!”
The first group of men rode nearer, horses thundering, steel flashing as one knight pulled a sword and bellowed for Allan to stop. But the lad urged the ponies onward while Tamsin clung desperately in the cart bed. Men shouted and reached out to grab at the planking, but she reeled away. One knight surged toward the sweating ponies, reaching for a halter but missing it.
Despite shouts for him to stop, Allan was half standing now, calling to the exhausted ponies, whip in hand, cracking it wildly in the air. Another knight stretched an arm toward Tamsin, but she rolled away to slam into a hay bale, pushing it toward him in an awkward but effective move.
Two horses rode tightly against the cart and a third rider edged forward, grabbing at Tamsin. He snatched the edge of her cloak as she frantically scrambled away. He launched nearly out of his saddle to snatch a fistful of her gown and drag her nearer.
Screaming, kicking, she felt his hard grip on her ankle as he pulled her toward him across straw and wooden planking. The thunder of the horses, the shouts, the cart bumping hard and fast over the track sent her careening. Somehow, she held on to the side of the cart despite the man’s fierce pull.
