Page 37 of A Bride for the Wicked Highlander (Daring a Highland Laird #2)

“ Y e cannae get away from us, lassie!”

Olivia snorted, wanting nothing more than to spit out a retort.

A ragged gasp clawed at her throat, and she tamped down her temper to focus on navigating the overgrown path ahead.

Weaving between the trees was hard enough; she didn’t need to distract herself further with formulating witty barbs to hurl at her pursuers.

She was solely focused on avoiding the skeletal grasp of low-hanging branches, of twisted and gnarled roots determined to snag her feet and bring their chase to a grinding halt. And then, of course, there was her mother to worry about.

Her arm was jerked backward. She bit back a curse and spun around to watch her mother stumble once more to the ground. It was like being chained to a fallen oak, the once-proud wife of Laird MacCulloh now deadweight as she knelt on the ground, gasping wildly.

“Nay, Maither!” Olivia dropped to her knees as well, grabbing her mother’s hands as she begged desperately, “Please, we cannae stop yet!”

Her mother squeezed her hands weakly, still unable to speak between greedy gulps of air.

For a moment, Olivia couldn’t help but stare at her, taking in the heavy lines of her face, the strands of familiar fiery hair, streaked with white and falling free from its updo. It was like looking into a mirror, staring at a future with eyes a far more crystalline blue than her own.

For a moment, all Olivia could see was her own fatigue reflected in her mother’s age.

The flickering torchlight broke through the veil of night, and Olivia shook free from her stupor. She let out a proper curse this time and began to tug on her mother’s arm, desperate to pull her back to her feet.

“Ye have to leave me, a sheòid, ” her mother finally managed to hiss. “Ye’re quicker than me—ye can outrun ‘em.”

“Dinnae make me choose that, Maither. We can do this, just—just hold on a little longer.”

Olivia urged whatever strength she had to well forth and fill her mother.

Miraculously, the pair managed to get back on their feet, and she turned to try and break into a run once more. Only this time, her mother’s grasp didn’t hold her back, but stopped her from crashing to the ground.

Again, Olivia swore, her legs trembling beneath her and heavier than lead.

Again, the thought came to her mind—of surrender, of simply stopping and letting fate run its course—and her fatigue crept up the length of her spine, pressing against her in a nefarious bid to keep her sprawled out across the ground.

“Olivia.” Her mother helped her back up this time, pulling them deeper into the dense brush. “Me brave bairn, mo laochain —they’re nae lookin’ for an old woman to take back with them.”

Olivia shook her head furiously. “Dinnae start with me. I willnae leave ye!”

Her voice caught in the back of her throat at the crunching of leaves, and she pulled her mother further into the overgrowth. Torchlight quickly filtered through their grove, the shouts of their pursuers deafening now as they drew close.

“Listen to me, Olivia.” Her mother’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Run far, far ahead, then meet me at the convent in two days.”

“M-Maither?—”

“Dinnae argue with me,” her mother hissed, desperately fighting to keep her voice low. “I-I cannae go on if I dinnae ken ye’re safe. Now, ye remember the way? From yer rides with yer faither?”

Olivia hesitated, unable to speak past the growing lump in her throat.

“I ken it looks different from horseback, but—but ye must be safe.” Her mother’s tone was on the edge of begging. “Please, love, I need you to listen?—”

“Get out here, ye wee MacCulloh!” one of their pursuers called out. “Yer faither’s sins still have to be paid for!”

“How’d ye like being hunted, lass?” Another cackled. “Nae fun, aye?”

“At least it’s nae a laird,” someone growled close by. “Old MacDonnell’s ruthless in a fight.”

Olivia’s hands trembled in her mother’s grasp, and she bit her lip hard as the torches drew closer. It was all a nightmare, some terrible figment of her overreactive imagination.

“Well, we can be just as frightening, can we nae?” the first man sneered. “After all, MacDonnell only kills ye. We’re nae lettin’ that pretty wee thing off so easily.”

“Lot to pay for, after all,” the second agreed.

“And pay for, and pay for, till our beds split in two!” The third howled with laughter.

Yes, a nightmare. Olivia would soon wake up in her bed, within the thick, sturdy walls of MacCulloh Keep. She’d hear her father and brother’s spirited debate downstairs, their laughter followed by the mouthwatering smell of square sausages cooking over the hearth.

Instead, the stench of animal fat stuck to the back of her throat, and it took all she had not to scream as a torch was waved above their heads.

Her mother suddenly lunged forward, tackling the closest man. They both hit the ground with a hard thud, a crunch of bone chorusing with the thick plop of the now-snuffed torch sinking into mud. Darkness briefly obscured the area, and instinct quickly overtook Olivia.

She scrambled beneath the brush and slipped behind a tree, using its thick trunk to pull herself upright before taking off into the forest once more. Behind her, an orange glow filled the grove she once stood in, the air filled with shouts of outrage.

“We’ll meet again,” she promised, though it was less for her mother’s sake and more for her own.

She had to believe they’d reunite in two days. For now, all her efforts had to be focused on putting as much distance between herself and her pursuers as possible.

While it was a relief to no longer see an orange glow trailing behind her, Olivia had to admit that such a light would be incredibly handy right now. The night only grew darker with each passing minute, the moon obscured by the forest’s canopy.

Whatever pallid beams managed to slip through its dense foliage were of little use; nothing more than mere slivers to alert Olivia that the ground was still overgrown.

More than once, her foot had caught on uneven ground, and the temptation to kick her slippers into the brush grew with each stub of her toe.

“Aw, ye gowkin’ eejit, Olivia!”

She slowed her pace, propping her body against a sturdy oak as she took off her shoes. They were of simple make, the sides torn from an endless night of running. In fairness, they weren’t made for traversing the wilds. In fairness, Olivia hadn’t exactly planned to flee into the night.

There had only been so much time when she’d slipped through the window, and she’d barely had enough time to find her mother and grab them a pair of arisaids for travel.

Her own arisaid hung heavily against her shoulders, soaked with sweat that attracted the cool night air.

For a moment, she considered dropping it where she stood; it was only slowing her down at this point, and if the rioters stumbled across it, maybe they’d assume she’d met her fate in this wooded hell.

Her thumb brushed across the somewhat clumsy stitching, remembering needle-pricked fingers and a toothy smile as her younger self held the freshly-sewn piece up for her mother to see.

Shaking her head, Olivia draped the arisaid around her head, using it as a hooded cloak before setting off into a jog once more.

A brief jog. One that came to an unceremonious end as her foot caught on the most despicable of all tree roots. She lurched forward, crashing down the side of a ravine in a disastrous display.

Her arms covered her head as stones and upturned ground hit her body, finally ending with a dull splash and the unpleasant sensation of true, bitter cold.

Flailing, Olivia managed to smash her hands through the water’s surface, her head following soon after as she gasped breathlessly.

“Of all the bloody?—!”

It looked to be a tarn she’d tumbled into, the side of the ravine stretching out beneath the moonlight into the steep base of a mountain.

She spluttered, her body quickly growing numb in the water’s icy grip.

She forced her arms and legs to move in a clumsy attempt at swimming, catching sight of the shoreline a mere stone’s throw away.

Now more than ever, her arisaid weighed her down, soaked through and growing heavier with each stroke. Again, the thought crossed her mind to abandon it, only for her head to dip underwater.

Limbs flailing, it became increasingly obvious that some part of her had been snagged.

The harder she thrashed, the more entangled she grew, the murky water leaving her zero chance to find what had grabbed her or where she had been grabbed.

A stream of bubbles escaped her tight lips, the cold now turning into a dull, aching burn.

Even if she wanted to abandon her arisaid now, it had completely wrapped itself around her body.

In some horrifically dark part of her mind, Olivia was glad some spiritual part of her mother would be with her while she drowned.

Drowned…

Was she really going to allow herself to die like this? Her body relaxed, her arms drifting above her head as a few more bubbles escaped.

What was she going to do after she surfaced? If she made it to the shoreline at all? She was soaking wet, unable to start even a basic fire to chase away the cold that had seeped into her bones. And then what?

A slow, painful wait for death as she froze.

And even if—God-willing—she managed to light a fire at all, it would only attract the very men who hunted her. Who had likely taken her mother back to the keep, made an example of her to the others who’d hesitated to rebel against their Laird’s family.

And if she somehow evaded those very men, who would be waiting for her after all of this?

Her lungs pushed out the remainder of air, a stream of bubbles racing to the surface as her hair drifted like dead seaweed. This really was her only option.

Weakly, she pulled the arisaid tightly around her, the burning ache in her body slowly fading away alongside her consciousness. It would be alright; her mother was here for her, and soon, her father and brother would greet her with smiling faces and spirited banter.

At least, until something yanked her out of the water.