Page 53 of The Laird’s Dangerous Prize (The Highland Sisters’ Secret Desires #1)
“Dinnae even try tae come in here, ye robbin’ bastard,” Saoirse swore fiercely at the man, lunging forward protectively in front of Agnes and stabbing at him with the dirk. “Run, me lady, run!” she cried, doing her best to keep the brigand at bay.
“Ach, ye harridan, drop yer blade, or I’ll cut yer throat!
” the man yelled in pain as Saoirse’s knife slashed at his hands and wrists.
In a panic, afraid for the maid’s life, Agnes dithered for a moment, hesitating to leave her.
But when Saoirse shouted again, “Run! Get away!” she realized Roisin’s safety had to come first.
Still clutching the dagger and holding tightly to the little body hidden beneath her cloak with one arm, she rushed to the opposite door, unlatched it with shaking fingers, and clambered awkwardly as fast as she could out onto the road.
As soon as her feet hit the ground, she took off running into the trees, bent on finding a hiding place in the darkness.
A shrill scream of pain from behind halted her, and when she turned to look over her shoulder, she was horrified to see Saoirse grappling with the brigand inside the carriage.
The man had hold of Saoirse’s wrist and was twisting it cruelly, making her scream in pain and forcing her to drop the dirk before shoving her violently backwards.
“Saoirse!” Agnes screamed as the maid impacted the side of the door with a thud, fearing she was badly hurt.
But Saoirse confounded her and the brigand by recovering almost immediately.
Agnes watched as she hurled herself bodily through the door, hitting the ground in a crouch before pinpointing Agnes in the tree line.
“Run, find a place tae hide!” the maid shouted frantically, racing towards her.
But just as Agnes turned to start running again, from the corner of her eye, she saw the brigand leap from the carriage and sprint after them, brandishing his dirk.
“Ye may as well give up runnin’, ye ken I’ll catch up tae ye, and it’ll be the worse fer ye when I dae!
” he yelled threateningly. Her heart hammering with terror, with Saoirse hot on her heels, Agnes fled.
She pushed herself to run faster, clinging to the desperate hope they would be able to outpace him and lose themselves in the forest. Yet she knew her hope of escape was in vain.
Trying to negotiate the uneven forest floor in the dark at speed was proving too hazardous.
She sobbed with fear and frustration as she ran, desperately keeping Roisin clasped to her hip with one arm, while tree roots and debris threatened to trip her up with every step.
Her skirts snagged on the undergrowth and tore, and she narrowly dodged colliding with tree trunks that loomed out of nowhere.
It was as though the forest itself was conspiring to slow her down.
Agnes’ terror mounted to hear the brigand crashing after them through the trees, cursing them both roundly as he gained on her and Saoirse.
The situation seemed hopeless, but she was determined to keep Roisin safe, no matter if it cost her her life.
Even as she ran on blindly, she tried to marshal her thoughts, to come up with some sort of plan to save her daughter.
I still have the dirk, she thought, clutching the handle of the blade tightly in her free hand. I need tae find somewhere tae hide Roisin, then make a stand. I’m gonnae have tae fight him off somehow and pray that help comes in time!
She heard Saoirse let out a scream and then the brigand’s ragged breathing coming ever closer. “Get away from me, ye bastard!” Agnes shouted at him over her shoulder, her maternal instincts roused to fever pitch. “Or I’ll kill ye!”
“Ye can try, ye wee vixen, but ye’ll nae succeed!
” he shouted, hurling himself after her with renewed energy.
Despite Agnes best efforts, it was only a matter of seconds before he came up behind her.
She felt a large hand suddenly grip her wrist and, with savage force, twist it.
She shrieked in agony, and the dirk fell unseen from her hand.
She could feel Roisin beneath her cloak, hanging on for dear life, her little body trembling violently.
All Agnes’ instincts told her to disentangle herself from Roisin’s grasp and tell the child to run and hide, but there was no time.
In a flash, she found herself pinned against a large tree trunk, with the brigand looming over her menacingly, filling her purview.
Certain she was about to meet her maker, terrified for her daughter, in a last-ditch appeal for help, Agnes let out a loud, desperate scream.
What happened next was a confusing blur. One moment the brigand was there, snarling in her face with fury. The next, she heard his skull crack as something hit him over the head. He watched uncomprehendingly as his eyes rolled back in his head, and he dropped like a stone to the ground at her feet.
Agnes stared in stupefaction as his place was immediately filled by another man.
But this one was far bigger, taller, more powerfully built, his shoulders broad enough to block her view.
Unsure if this was a new threat or someone come to save them, she dared not let down her guard.
With her heart still pounding in her ears, Agnes tightened her hold on Roisin as the newcomer sheathed his sword then reached down and dragged the clearly deceased brigand up by the scruff of his neck and tossed him aside as if he weighed nothing.
Then, he dusted off his hands and looked down at her, sheathing his sword with practiced ease. “He’ll nae be troublin’ ye anymore, Miss. Are ye all right?” he asked, his deep, husky voice filled with concern.
The reassuring words should have calmed Agnes, who was shaking from head to foot, having believed only moments before that she was about to die.
Instead, the sound of his voice sent a powerful tremor of recognition through her body that set her heart racing afresh.
Nay, it cannae be him. ’Tis the shock. I’m hearin’ things, she told herself, her mind reeling.
“Miss, ’tis all right,” the man told her softly, clearly worried by her silence. “I promise, ye’re safe now. Did that bastard hurt ye?”
Agnes did not answer but put a hand to her head, still convinced she was experiencing some sort of delusion. I must have banged it without realizin’ it , she thought, staring up uncomprehendingly at the man’s shadowy features. ’Tis the only explanation fer it .
“Me lady! Are ye all right? Where’s the wee yin?” Saoirse! She’s unharmed, thank God! Agnes thought with relief as the maid hurried towards them. Unable to speak, she could only nod mutely. Pulling aside her cloak, she revealed a shivering, tearful Roisin tightly clasped to her side.
Saoirse clasped her hands to her cheeks and smiled. “Och, thank the Lord above!” Then, as if remembering something, she glanced up at their rescuer and added, “I mean tae say, thank the Lord fer sendin’ ye tae save us, Sir.”
“Think naethin’ of it. I’m only glad I arrived in time,” he replied. “Now, let’s get out of here and back tae the coach. There may be more of those brigands lurkin’ about here. ’Tis nae safe fer ye tae stay.”
As they followed him back through the trees to the road, Agnes became aware of the sounds of fighting growing louder as they approached. When she saw the carriage and the coachman slumped insensibly in his seat, both she and Saoirse gasped in shock.
“Is he…?” Saoirse asked, looking up at the man.
“Nay, just unconscious. He’s taken a nasty knock tae the head though,” their rescuer replied.
However, Agnes attention had been snared by the sight of two men engaged in a fierce sword fight a short distance away.
Reflexively, she covered Roisin’s eyes, not wanting the child to witness any bloodshed.
Suddenly one of the men broke away and ran off down the road, with the other charging after him in hot pursuit.
“Braither!” Agnes cried out, instantly recognizing the pursuer as Duncan.
And the man he was chasing was clearly another of the brigands.
“Be careful!” she called after him fearfully, her heart in her mouth as she watched him slowly gaining on the brigand. Silently, she prayed he would triumph.
Then, as she knew it inevitably would, the familiar deep, husky voice came from her side, breaking into her distraction over her brother and setting her heart throbbing painfully.
“Agnes? Is it ye?”
She made herself turn and look at him, at his expression of utter shock, and her insides turned to water.
Five years had scarred and hardened his sculpted features somewhat.
His blond hair was longer, curling around his ears.
There were a few more lines around his mouth and at the corners of his eyes.
But to her dismay, time only seemed to have increased his allure.
He was a fearsome warrior, marked by battle, frightening to look upon. Yet he was without a doubt the most beautiful, desirable man she had ever seen. The sight of him was like a knife twisting in her heart, for she loved him with all her heart but could never let him know it.
His presence threw her into fresh turmoil. Why is he here? Maither said he’d be away fightin’ with Duncan. Ach, this is a disaster! How the hell am I gonnae keep the truth from him now?
“Aye, Conrad,” she eventually replied, trying to keep her voice steady as a storm of emotions coursed through her. “’Tis me.”