Page 9 of Ensnaring the Dove
She gaped at him, her breast rising and falling sharply. The woman was terrified, frozen in place.
Aedan held her gaze, his hand stretching out farther still. “We have to go.” He paused then. He didn’t want to scare her further, yet he needed her to listen to him. “If we don’t leave now, more men will come. They’ll rape you, torture you … and I won’t be able to stop them.”
The woman gasped, the whites of her eyes glittering. An instant later, a small yet surprisingly strong hand grasped his. Gently, so as not to send her into full-blown panic, Aedan drew the woman out from under the carpentum and pulled her to her feet.
She was wearing a long tunic and a flowing sky-blue stola—the voluminous overdress donned by Roman noblewomen—not practical attire at all, but at least her leather slippers looked sturdy enough.
Still grasping her hand, Aedan broke away from the convoy and made for the woods. The woman stumbled along behind him, barely able to keep up.
“Faster,” he grunted.
She choked out a protest and tried to pull free from his hold, yet Aedan didn’t let her go. He wouldn’t until they were safely away from the valley.
They were fortunate, for the line of densely packed alders was close at that point of the valley. Aedan crashed into the trees, towing the woman behind him. He dove into their midst, heedless of the thick undergrowth of brambles.
Thorns clutched at their clothing and any exposed skin, yet Aedan didn’t slacken his pace, nor did he relax his grip on the woman’s hand.
His lungs started to burn, and sweat trickled down his back and chest, causing his clothing to chafe. Aedan pushed on regardless.
The woman tired much faster than he did, and soon he was dragging her after him. She’d ceased her struggles, although when he glanced her way, her flushed face was stricken and her smoky eyes glittered with fear.
Aedan was about to reassure her he wasn’t stealing her away so that he could ravage her, when the splintering sound of branches and rough shouts echoed through the woods.
The woman let out a low whimper.
A chill swept over Aedan as he realized his mistake.
Lucon.Why hadn’t he killed him?
Aedan had been so intent on getting the woman to safety that he hadn’t ensured no one was left alive to betray him.
On and on they ran, weaving through the press of trees into the heart of the woods. The woman clung desperately to his hand now, for he was towing her through the woods. The going gradually become slower, for the tangle of trees and undergrowth became almost impenetrable.
Eventually, his companion gasped out a stuttered question. “D… do they have dogs?”
“No,” he panted in reply, “but some of them are expert trackers nonetheless … and we’re leaving a clear path to follow.”
“How w… will we escape then?”
“I don’t know.”
That wasn’t exactly true, for Aedan was already thinking ahead, recalling the layout of this swathe of woodland. If his memory served him, there was a stream farther east. If they could reach it, they might be able to get away.
The woman didn’t question him further. The rasp of their breathing, the rustle of leaves, and the creak of branches surrounded them as they pressed on—and a short while later, they found the stream.
It was deep enough to reach mid-calf as they waded into it.
Halting in the midst of the flow, the icy water swirling about him, Aedan glanced around. He could still hear shouting, yet it was farther behind now. Even so, they had to keep moving. If he was correct, this burn flowed from a larger water course to the north.
Still gripping the woman’s hand, for the river stones were slippery and the current strong enough to make the progress hard going, Aedan waded upstream.
It wasn’t easy for the woman, as, despite that she did her best to hold her skirts above the water, they still got wet. Stubbing her toe on a rock, she then hissed a curse.
Aedan glanced her way, once or twice, to check she was all right. He noted the deep flush on her cheeks now, the sweatglistening on her forehead, and the jerky rise and fall of her chest. She was nearing the limits of her endurance.
He needed to get her to safety before she collapsed.
The stream gradually deepened, until the water reached mid-thigh. At that point, they clambered up onto the mossy bank and continued upward. And as they traveled, the sounds of pursuit faded further. The outlaws wouldn’t have given up though—not yet. The land grew steeper and rockier, and then eventually, they reached the fork where this stream departed from a gushing river.