Page 48 of Never Tempt a Scot
“They’ll be dead,” Brodie vowed.
“So long as we agree on that.” Rafe’s voice was as cold as a loch in winter.
“Take a pistol.” Rafe reached into the coach and pulled out a pistol from underneath the coach cushions, which Brodie accepted with a frown. He would have preferred at least two pistols so he wouldn’t have to take the time to reload in the midst of a fight. “Mr. Withers, release one of the front horses. We have need of it.”
As soon as a horse was made ready, Brodie mounted it without a saddle and took off into the evening light. He could follow her trail even in darkness as long as the moon was out.
Once he found her, he would deal with those bastards who had taken her. He whipped the long reins over his body to strike the horse’s flanks and urged it onward, leaning forward as he rode into the growing gloom.
12
Lydia stirred just before dawn, her entire body aching, as though she had slept on a bed of rocks. She rubbed her cheek against her pillow, only to wince as something hard and cold dug into her face. She came awake with a start and stifled a moan as she found she had indeed slept on a bed of rocks.
The sky overhead was a murky gray that still bore hints of the passing night. The campfire was nearly dead, with bits of logs aglow with burning embers and the smell of the smoke teasing her nose. On the opposite side of the fire, the three Scottish bandits were lying on thin pallets on the ground, seemingly asleep.
Rubbing her eyes, Lydia sat up. The movement caught Willie’s attention.
“Don’t move, lass,” he warned.
“Would you prefer I relieve myself here?” she whispered.
Willie kicked Fergus’s stomach. “Wake up, you arse. She needs to piss.”
Fergus rolled over and scowled up at the sky. “So?”
“I saidgit!” Willie kicked him again. Fergus got to his feet, grumbling as he grabbed Lydia by the arm and dragged her to the nearby woods.
“Go and piss,” he grunted.
“I’m sorry, but I cannot go with you watching me,” she said, meeting him stubborn stare to stubborn stare.
“If ye really need to go, you’ll go, me watchin’ ye or not.”
Lydia crossed her arms. “Are you so backward that seeing me would arouse you?” It was completely uncouth to say that, but she wanted him to know how foul he was being.
“Fine. I’ll turn my back, but don’ do anything stupid like try an’ run. Ye willna get far, and I’ll take more’n a might of pleasure dragging ye back.”
Lydia wanted to tell him exactly what she thought of him, but she had a feeling it would end with another slap. Instead, she turned and headed for the nearest clump of bushes. She saw to her needs quickly, and when she returned she held out a hand. “Your flagon, please.”
“What for?”
“I wish to wash my hands.”
He passed her the flagon from his hip, and she poured water over her palms before drying them upon her dress. She didn’t feel as clean as she wished, but it was better than nothing. She plucked a few larger leaves and twigs off of her gown.
“Let’s be getting back,” Fergus snapped.
Just as they returned to the small clearing, Fergus tensed and stopped dead in his tracks. Lydia, who’d been focused on the ground so as not to trip over a root or rock, walked right into him.
“Oof!”
“Shush!”he hissed, and slowly pulled out a long dagger from his coat.
“What is it?” Lydia asked in a whisper. Fergus ignored her, and his head swiveled back and forth as he surveyed the campsite, where the other two men were still sleeping.
Smoke billowed up from the dying fire as a fresh breeze stirred the embers to life. Suddenly, through the haze, she saw a man running toward her. Lydia’s heart leapt into her throat as she saw Brodie bound from the trees opposite her and Fergus. He was sprinting, his feet a blur as he charged the sleeping men on the ground between them.
“Willie! Watch out!” Fergus bellowed. Willie and Reggie bolted up, pulling daggers from their boots.
