Page 62 of Bound to Her Highland Lord
Her eyes darted to the guards on horseback and then to Dudley. They were all antsy, all waiting to see how Oliver would respond. When he finally did, Sorcha had never felt so proud.
“You and I do not know each other very well, so I will give you the benefit of the doubt,” Oliver told the man sharply. “I know you do not mean to be petulant with your questions. But I also know myself. So allow me to illuminate the full picture of the situation for you.”
He slung his arm over his shoulder again and adjusted his grip on his sword, swinging the weapon through the air as he gestured with his hands.
“I am a tenacious man, you see. Once I have my mind set on something, there is very little that will prevent me from going after it. And there is nothing I want more than justice for my friends, here. So should you make the mistake of continuing this fight, I will have you know that any man left standing when we are done with you, will take his life into his own hands. Because I will spend the rest of my own life, making sure that each and every one of you is hunted down and made to pay for your crimes. I will not stop until I am satisfied that justice has been served. As is my duty and responsibility given to me by the King, himself.”
Oliver’s threat hung heavy in the air, mixing with the metallic scent of blood and fear. Sorcha had to stop herself from smiling too broadly at his courage, at his lionheart. She instead stroked the horse’s neck, trying to keep herself and the beast calm.
The commander shifted his weight on his feet, as did the rest of the redcoats. Slowly, he turned to face Oliver, straightening his shoulders with a nod.
“It is as you say, my lord,” the Englishman said, bowing in deference to Oliver’s threats as well as his noble standing.
Then, pointing to the men on horseback and a handful of others, the commander gave an order that sent Sorcha’s heart soaring.
“You there, fetch the traitor. Bring him here so that the Marquess and Laird Kincaid might see fit what to do with him.”
His words rang out across the field, signaling the end of the battle for all to hear. Relief coursed through her veins. But as his orders traveled through the air, Sorcha realized things were far from over.
Just as the soldiers turned to carry out the commander’s orders, Dudley, and the four men who stood beside him, still kicked their horses into a dead sprint. They raced towards the courtyard where both armies stood untied. Just as she was sure the five men were going to charge into the fray, Dudley, and his horde pulled on his reins and turned his stallion sharply to the right, and then disappeared into the forest.
23
THE ARROW AND THE END
Bewildered, both that his arguments had worked in swaying the English army and that Dudley was running like a coward, Oliver twisted over his shoulder. He used the scant few spare seconds he had to ensure that Lachlan and Aila were no longer under threat of attack. He need not have worried. A handful of Lachlan’s most loyal men were already forming a barricade around their Laird and Lady, while another few were ushering the wounded woman inside the castle. The wall of men followed after them, making sure that Aila would not be injured any further. Lachlan paused in tending to his wife’s needs only long enough to send Oliver and James a stern nod, waving them to continue the fight without him.
“Dinnae let him get away! Dinnae let him escape!”
James’ shouted, his orders as Captain of the Kincaid Guard, were followed immediately. Men began gathering their weapons, charging towards the forest.
“Too slow,” Oliver muttered. “They will all be too slow.”
Dudley was on a horse—a war horse at that. He would be long gone before any of the foot soldiers made it to the tree line. The only hope they had of catching up to the man was if Oliver and James had already been on the backs of their own horses,sprinting after the Baron. Letting out a string of curses that would have made his mother blush, Oliver turned to stalk over to his horse when a hand came directly into view, stopping him midstep.
“Need a ride?”
He glanced up, Sorcha’s smirk bringing a smile to his own face.
“Aye,” he answered, a sarcastic edge to his words. “I was thinking a run through the woods might be just what we need.”
“Funny,” she teased right back, extending a hand down so he could climb into the saddle behind her. “I was thinking the verra same thing.”
She hardly waited for him to get settled before digging her heels into her horse’s sides, sending the stallion racing after Dudley. Oliver found his balance and adjusted his grip on his sword once again.
“I will not let him get away with this. Not again. Not anymore,” Oliver promised her.
He kept his lips close to the shell of her ear, letting his words brush along the back of her neck before pressing a vow of a kiss to her salty skin.
“We will put an end to this.”
“I ken,” she told him, soft and determined. “And Dudley kens it, too.”
Pounding horse hooves thudded across the ground behind them. Oliver turned to see James and Taryn, riding together, racing after Dudley just as he and Sorcha were. James sent him a fierce nod, lifting his sword, finally acknowledging and accepting that they were all on the same side, all in pursuit of the same goals.
Dudley might have had a head start, he might have had a war horse of his own, but his was nothing compared to the beasts thetwo couples rode. In the span of a dozen heartbeats, they were closing in on the Baron and his four remaining guards.
“Do not let them get any closer,” Dudley shouted, venomously.
