Page 48 of Bound to Her Highland Lord
In a flash, the horse was moving at a break-neck speed, sprinting through the clearing as though he had understood every word she had said. Wind whipped past her face, the hood of her cloak billowing around her face as the cold air stole her breath. It took only a few seconds before she heard voices calling after her, men shouting to announce her presence to the others. She said a whispered prayer that those few seconds had been enough to secure her escape.
“A rider! There!”
“Do not let her get away!”
Clanging metal and leather slapping filled the air, but Laura kept her eyes focused on the tree line in front of her.
“Faster, lad,” she encouraged. “That’s it. Faster.”
She was nearly flying already, but the sound of the English fighters grew closer behind her, and she worried it wasn’t fastenough. The pack of letters Brandon had given her slammed into her chest with every stride the horse took. It reminded her with every yard she covered of the task she had been set with. She knew that Brandon would not have sent her unless her life depended on it, and the lives of a whole host of others. The words he had written were her purpose, her mission in escaping the English. She could not fail.
“We’ve got you now,” a menacing voice growled behind her.
The threat was so low, so confident, so close, that Laura could not stop herself from twisting over her shoulder to stare down her fate. A group of three men were on her heels, riding hard and fast enough that she could see the steam floating off their horses. The man closest to her already had his sword unsheathed and aimed for her. Behind him, another man notched an arrow in his bow and pointed it at her horse’s flank. Fear, slimy and hot, boiled in her belly.
“We cannae let them get us,” she told her steed as she turned back to stare down her escape route.
A fallen log stretched across the way, directly in front of her. On either side were bramble bushes, thick and thorny. It was too late now to steer her horse to avoid the obstacle. If she did, the riders behind her would be sure to catch her. The width of the trunk had to stretch up to at least her height, had she been standing next to it. It would take a rare creature to be able to scale its size with ease. A feat not just any horse would be able to tackle. Luckily for her, Brandon had seen to it that she wasn’t given just any horse.
The faster they rode, the more encouragement she whispered to the animal. She dared one last look, an arrow whizzing by her face as she did so. All the men who trailed after her had chosen their horses for speed, not size. They were lean creatures. And Laura knew they were all too small to be able to scale the tree.
“Just one jump,” she promised. “One massive jump. The biggest of yer life. And then we are free. Then we will be rid of them.”
She didn’t know who she was speaking to—herself or the horse. She supposed the assurances would benefit both of them. Four more strides. Three. Two.
“This is it, lad.”
“Do not let her cross that tree!”
“Just breathe,” she exhaled gently.
“Shoot her down!”
With a determined snort, she and the horse sailed into the air, hurling over the fallen tree like it was nothing. They landed hard, jarring her bones and the letters that slammed into her chest. Her horse shook his head, snickering off the jostling but kept running all the same.
“Another one. Fire another one!”
The men shouting behind her grew quieter, their arrows landing further and further away from her. Her heart pounded so loudly that it took her several minutes to realize they had made it into Scotland. When she finally looked up, her breath steady and slow, to see the mountains of her homeland, tears threatened to fall once more.
Gently, she pulled back on the reins, slowing her horse to a much deserved break. They walked to the stream once more, where she let him stand in the water and drink as much as he needed to.
“That’s it, my lad. Ye did so great.” Her breath caught in her chest all over again, the relief washing over her too strong to ignore. “Thank ye. Och, ye have saved me.”
She leaned over her neck and stroked him there. This time, she did nothing to stop the tears from falling freely down her face. Her muscles ached as exhaustion clawed its way back into her bones. But she spoke again.
“Thank ye.”
They stood there, in the babbling brook, for some long minutes. She watched the sun rise over her homeland, the blue sky clear and welcoming. She rested only as long as she dared, letting the horse cool down as much as she could manage.
“It will nae be long now before they move on us,” she told the animal. “We need to get these letters to Laird Kincaid. We need to finish our task. And then we will rest.”
With a click of her tongue and a nudge of her heels, they set off again. She set a brisk pace, determined not to stop again until they reached Kincaid Castle. Until they reached true freedom.
“Heaven forbid,”Taryn whispered in horror. “Eight lords?”
“Aye,” Oliver answered, delivering the grave news with all the stoicism he could manage. “The night that Sorcha was brought into the Baron’s hall, he secured the allyship of eight lords. They have all signed his petition, and all agreed to march with him.”
“How many men will they be bringing?”
