Page 26

They again rode through the next day, but stopped early for the night.

Why? Had they reached their destination?

Gilmour glanced about, trying to get his bearings.

Light had faded into darkness and Finn had not yet returned from wherever he had gone.

It was not a good sign. Time was running out.

That much he knew, but he shifted his eyes back to the fire, took a drink from his mug and tried to look relaxed.

Bound hand and foot as he was, it was not a simple task, but it was Isobel's situation that made his nerves tangle up in hard-tied knots.

Her feet had been cut free so that she could go into the woods, but never was she allowed to go alone.

Roy had accompanied her. Roy! The muscles in Gilmour's back cranked tighter, but he loosened them slowly, one by one, with a hard won effort.

She would be safe. Roy was a barbarian and a bastard true enough, but he feared Finn, and Finn had insisted that she be left untouched.

She would be safe. But the seconds ticked ruthlessly away, wearing at Mour's composure.

Yet he dared not show concern if he wished to implement his plan. Still, he could wait no longer.

"So..." He glanced up at his captors. Three remained in camp. "How long have you known this Finn?"

Three heads turned toward him, blank eyes evil, expressions immobile.

Hmm.

"I take it Roy has known him longer, aye?"

Baron pushed himself from the tree where he'd been resting his back. If there was one to rise to the bait, it was likely to be him. Unfortunately, he was also the least able to prevent Roy from causing any mischief.

"What are you yammering about, MacGowan?" asked Baron.

He took another casual swig, though his stomach curled with nerves. "I was merely observing that Roy must be well trusted to take the girl into the woods for so long a time."

"It ain't your concern," rambled the one closest to the fire, but Baron was twitching all over like a weasel on a scent.

" 'Ow long they been gone?"

"Roy'll be back when he's ready," said the first man and the second chuckled.

"Wouldn't take me long."

"What do ya mean it wouldn't take you long? What—" Baron began, but in that instant Isobel stepped into camp.

Relief flooded through Gilmour at the sight of her, even as he strained to make certain all was well, but not for an instant did she flicker her attention to him. Still, her head was high, and she seemed to be unscathed. If she looked nervous, who could blame her?

All was well, but Roy still stood close behind her. Too close.

"What's been takin' ya?" Baron's voice was whiny.

"I had me a leak," Roy said.

"You been 'umpin' 'er?" Baron asked.

"And why might you care, Baroness?”

The lad's hands crunched to fists. "You sayin' I'm a lily?"

"Me?" Roy chuckled. "Nay. I wouldn't say that, lassie. But MacGowan there seems to be bored if you're looking for some fun."

"Damn you!" Baron swore. "Give me ten minutes with 'er and I'll prove meself."

"I would," Roy said, "but Finn might take it poorly if we lost us another man."

The boy spread his legs as if for battle. "You thinking I couldn't 'andle 'er?"

Roy grinned. Evil exuded from him like a foul stench. "What do you think, MacGowan? You been with her. Do you think the wee Baron here can tame her?"

Tension cranked bile into Gilmour's gut as his mind spun for ideas. Things were coming to a head. That much was clear. "If you value your health, lad, you'll keep yourself to yourself."

"I don't need no advice from the likes of you," Baron snarled and Gilmour shrugged, every muscle tensed.

"Nay. But unless you know a good physic, you'll keep your wick in its candle."

"What the devil do you mean by that?" asked Baron.

Even the dull two had perked up.

"You saying she's diseased?"

“To look at her, she may seem worth the trouble," Gilmour said, "but after a fortnight or so of itching, you may think otherwise."

"You bastard!" Isobel growled. Her voice shook with emotion and Gilmour scowled. Holy apples, he was just trying to keep her safe. What the hell was she thinking? He caught her gaze, trying to press his thoughts into her mind.

"I did not have this trouble afore you," he said.

"I did nothing to you." Her voice rose and she took one shaky step backward. What was she doing? Did she have a plan? Might she hope to distract the men with their arguments then lunge for the forest? But surely she hadn't forgotten about Roy. He stood right behind her.

"Aye," Gilmour agreed and drank again, though it was difficult to force the fluids down his throat. "You did, lassie. And here you were telling me that you were untried. It makes me wonder who you were—"

"Don't say it!" She took another unsteady step backward, all but bumping into Roy's immense force. But the hulk seemed relaxed, pleased even by their conversation, so perhaps she had a chance.

"Don't say what, lass?" he asked. "That you are a—"

"Nay!" She shrieked the word through the darkness, and suddenly she twisted wildly backward.

Gilmour lunged to his feet, ready to help her defeat Roy, to delay him an instant if he could, but in that second he realized that she had turned. A rope dangled from her loosed wrists and Roy's knife gleamed in her fist.

Like a maddened boar she barreled into Mour. He hit the ground with a shocked grunt. The knife slashed downward. He caught her hands between his palms, barely keeping it from his chest as he battled for his life.

"Are you daft?" he rasped.

"Scream," she hissed.

"What?" He stared at her, and in that moment he realized that her eyes were perfectly clear.

"Scream," she rasped and tilting the blade, wedged it between his bonds.

Reality dawned.

He shrieked like a baby and between their bodies, hidden from view, she swiped at his ropes. They sprang loose. He cried out again.

"Kill the bastard!" Roy roared.

"Help! Get her off me!" he shrieked.

Someone laughed. Gilmour clasped his hands together and pushed her away. She fell back, but in a second she was up, coming toward him on hands and knees.

Behind her, someone swore, but Gilmour had no time to assimilate who it might be, for in that instant she lunged again. He braced his heels against the turf and prayed.

Pain slashed his calf, but his legs burst free.

Springing to his feet, he grabbed her wrist. She stumbled, but he didn't wait. Dragging her to her feet, he bolted toward the woods, and she came, galloping madly behind.

Branches whizzed past his head, roots tangled about his boots. He almost fell. She snatched him back to his feet, pushing him on.

Curses and threats stormed through the darkness behind them, seeming to come from the very earth at their feet. Where were they? Where should they go? He stumbled again, his lungs aching.

"Hurry!" she gasped and turned to stare behind them, leading the way now as they scrambled on. But in that second she fell, sliding away into the darkness below them.

Gilmour's shoulders screamed as he hauled her back from the unseen abyss.

"Spread out!" The words were as clear as dawn and came from directly behind them. "The river's just ahead."

"We'll have them now." The voice came from their left. " 'Tis us or the fall."

Bel stepped to the side, searching for a way out. But there was none.

"Jump," she said.

"What?"

She glanced down into the unseen darkness below, then, "Jump!" she ordered.

"Where? H—"

" 'Ey!" The shout was nearly upon them.

"Go!" she screamed, and slammed her body against Mour's. He fell more than jumped, pummeling through the air for a timeless eternity. The water broke like glass beneath him, cracking against his chest, tearing at his shoulders, covering his nose, his eyes, pitching him into black death.

He tried to find the air, to reach the surface, but where was up?

Something struck him. He jerked away only to find air. It streamed into his lungs and he dragged it in.

Isobel! Where? It was then that he realized she was behind him, her arm across his chest as she pushed him downstream.

"Can't you..." She paused, breathing hard and bobbing under. He felt himself sink beneath the surface and paddled madly. "Swim?"

"Of course I..." he began and went under again.

She hauled him back up. "Hurry!" she hissed.

He tried, but if the truth was known, he swam like a rock. It took an eternity for her to propel them to shore. He crawled onto it, coughing, and she crept up behind.

From the far shore someone cursed again, but the following words softened. "If you return to us now we'll not harm you. You have me vow."

Gilmour almost laughed. Grasping Isobel's arm, he rose to his feet, but she lie where she was, face down on the coarse grasses.

"Go!" He heard the low order from the cliff top.

"Nay, I—" Baron said, but it was followed in an instant by a splash. Apparently Roy was no more patient than Isobel had been.

Bending rapidly, Gilmour snatched the girl into his arms. Upstream someone splashed wildly and he dared cross through the water, letting the sound cover the noise of his own retreat.

Some minutes later, he stumbled onto the opposite shore. One glance behind him told him nothing, so he rushed on.

"I can walk."

He almost dropped her in his surprise, then let her legs slide to the ground... and fold, and spill her like a sack of grain onto the earth.

"Aye," he said and lifting her back into his arms, took off at a trot. "You can walk like I can swim."

An eternity passed before he stopped again.

His chest burned, his legs throbbed and he was pretty sure that his arms were about to be yanked out of their sockets.

She wriggled out of his arms and found her feet.

They lurched forward together, but their reserves were running low.

A branch reached from the darkness, snagging his feet.

And he fell hard onto his knees—and beneath a withering log, he found a large hole.