Page 121 of All Scot and Bothered

“Kick my bow and arrows to me.”

Jean-Yves opened the door and sauntered into the cabin. Once he was inside the doorway, something fell on the floor.

“How clumsy of me.” Jean-Yves bent down and kicked the bow and arrows that had been resting next to the doorframe to Ramsay.

Wily old man, Ramsay approved, understanding why the Scottish and French had made such excellent allies over the centuries.

Still, he would have preferred a firearm to his bow, but if he went inside to do it, he’d lose his prey. A man—a warrior—made do.

Ramsay remained still for a moment, listening for the sounds of movement. A preternatural silence had overtaken the night, a certain proof that he was not alone.

The shadow had been lost between the fence and the tree line.

He dropped low, snatched his bow and arrow, and crouched behind his side of the blackberry bushes as he crept along the edge until he reached the gate. He knew the old hinges would creak if he were to open it, so the only option he had was to vault over.

This would leave him exposed to anyone with a gun.

Taking a bracing breath, he leapt up and dove over the hip-high gate, ducking to roll onto the other side, returning to the shadows.

Had it been a different moon on a different night, Ramsay wouldn’t have been able to see the shadow streak for the woods. He wouldn’t have been able to nock his arrow and let it fly.

The shadow stumbled as the arrow found purchase in his leg, but he limped forward, diving into the trees.

Ramsay hesitated; if this was a ploy to draw him away from the house, he shouldn’t take it. However, he had the upper hand on the interloper, because he could navigate these woods in the dark. He knew every tree by memory. He had no doubt he could cut the man off at the river if he ran now.

He scanned the night, searching for more shadows. The night was still, too still, but he could see nothing moving in the moonlight.

Ramsay launched toward the forest with his bow, staying low until he hit the tree line. He then angled west toward the bridge, knowing that it would be cleverest to make a tactical retreat that way if one wasn’t familiar with the territory.

He quickly neared the river and flattened himself to an ancient ash tree, pausing to listen.

Not a handful of rapid heartbeats later, he heard a branch snap in the distance. Then a soft muffled curse.

He waited, every muscle tense. Every breath even.

The other man’s approach was impressively quiet, but Ramsay was attuned to these woods. He knew the easiest path to take, had guessed correctly and hidden behind the right tree, which afforded him the chance to spring forward and chop at the man’s legs with his bow.

His opponent fell hard. Harder than he’d expected him to, as the man was quite a bit larger than he’d guessed judging by the sounds he’d made while approaching.

Ramsay fell upon him, his fist flying like the hammer of an ancient god.

His fist landed in the dirt as the other man rolled to the side fast enough to avoid the punch and returned a punishing elbow to Ramsay’s ribs.

Ramsay absorbed the blow with a sharp curse. This time, his jab caught the man in the mouth with a satisfying crunch.

His satisfaction was short-lived, however, as blood was spit right into his eyes, momentarily blinding him.

Fucking insufferable move.

Ramsay’s next punch was more to keep the blighter busy while he swiped his other sleeve across his eyes just in time to see the glint of a knife.

Ramsay leapt off the assailant in time to avoid a slash.

They circled each other. Two shadows in the dark, the full moon filtering through leaves in strange and eerie shafts of silver.

The blade made a lightning-fast slash and Ramsay stepped in rather than away, imprisoning his attacker’s wrist. He drove the man backward; the man’s few attemptsat breaking his hold proved futile against his superior strength.

Then, through some feat of impossible acrobatics, his opponent tossed the knife from his captured hand into the air. He twisted his body to catch it with his free hand before Ramsay drove him back against a tree trunk with his elbow lodged in his throat.