Page 4 of Claimed By a Savage Scot
The neared the opening, which looked like it emerged into some bushes at the rear of the laundry. She knew the layout of the grounds well and considered breaking away from him once they were outside.
Duncan sent him tae fetch me and might be angry with me if I run.Ach, I’ve nae choice but tae trust him!
A few feet from the exit, Malcolm slowed their pace and crouched close to the wall, pulling her after him. To her relief, he loosened her wrist from his iron grip, but the next moment, she found herself pressed back against the wall, pinned in place by a disturbingly muscular arm that stretched across her belly like a belt. She could feel its heat penetrating her cloak, making her skin tingle. In those tense moments of impropriety, she was more afraid of it than Sinclair’s soldiers.
Afraid to breathe, she tried to shrink away from the arm, but there was no room. Her instinct was to shove it away, but she could not seem to move. It felt like God had intervened when sounds of her pursuers grew louder, spurring Malcolm to action. He removed his arm, and she let out the breath she had been holding.
He turned to her, his eyes dark pools, and whispered, “Jaysus, we need tae get out of here fast.” He grabbed her hand again. “We’ll be vulnerable outside so keep low and stick close by me. Come on!”
Malcolm pulled Catriona after him towards the opening leading outside. At the point where some light appeared against shadow, he halted them, keeping her behind him. He listened for a moment but heard nothing. So, he hesitantly stuck his head outand scanned the area around the thicket of bushes where he had entered earlier.
He saw no soldiers, but the air was heavy with smoke and ash. Plumes of smoke curled into the sky. The priory was on fire. He hoped the signs of destruction would not send Catriona into hysterics. If she screamed or ran amok, the soldiers would come running.
Best tae keep her movin’.
“’Tis clear. If we get separated head tae the orchard and wait fer me. Let’s go,” he whispered over his shoulder. Without waiting for an answer, he ducked down and crept cautiously forward through the bushes, pulling her after him.
The bushes formed the border to a narrow pathway, part of a network that traversed the neatly kept priory gardens. They needed to go right and then follow the pathways, weaving through the herb beds and outbuildings until they made the perimeter.
They got onto the path unseen and ran lightly along it until they came to a shed. He yanked her behind it after him and made her flatten herself against the wooden planks as they made their way to the far end of the building. When they reached it he peered around the corner, checking for Sinclair’s men. His luck held: it was clear.
“All right, come on,” he urged her, pushing her in front of him onto the path. They had only gone a few steps further whenCatriona let out a gasp and jerked violently backwards, her hand torn from his grip.
Malcolm pivoted on the balls of his feet, dirk posed. A few feet away stood a heavily armed soldier wearing Sinclair colors. He had one hand clamped around Catriona’s neck, while the other held a dagger pointed at her throat. A cold chill ran down Malcolm’s spine, but he remained calm, meeting the soldier’s gaze unwaveringly.
“What have we here then?” the soldier asked, looking from Malcolm to Catriona and back with small, assessing eyes.
“If ye have any sense, ye’ll let her go,” Malcolm said quietly, moving infinitesimally closer.
The soldier grinned through yellowed teeth. “I dinnae ken who ye are,friend, but if ye dinnae back off, I’ll slit her throat,” he said, his blade waving dangerously close to Catriona’s eyes. They were fixed on Malcolm, full of fear and pleading.
Malcolm breathed and stepped forward another pace. “Nay, ye willnae. Yer maister will cut yer ballocks off and feed them tae his dogs if ye harm a hair on her head,” he countered reasonably.
The man’s bushy brows shot up. “So, this is the lass we’ve been searchin’ fer, is it? Thank ye, friend, I’m grateful tae ye. Looks like I’ll be keepin’ me ballocks and gettin’ a big reward from the boss fer findin’ her. I almost feel bad fer killin’ ye.”
“Dinnae be so hasty. How much does he pay ye in a twelvemonth, yer laird?” Malcolm asked, sidling nearer. “I’ll double it if ye give her tae me.”
The soldier seemed to consider it but then shook his head. “Nah, Laird Sinclair has promised a promotion tae the man who brings her tae him. That’s worth more tae?—”
He did not finish the sentence because Malcolm’s fist smashed into his mouth. The soldier dropped the dirk and staggered backwards, blood pouring from a split lip. Malcolm wrenched Catriona away from him and pushed her down the pathway, wanting her at a safe distance while the fighting happened.
“Run, Cat, run! Make for the orchard, I’ll meet ye there!” he whisper-shouted, turning to meet the soldier. The man had retrieved his blade and was wielding it as he charged at Malcolm.
“Ye bastard, I’ll cut ye tae pieces fer that!” he roared, stabbing viciously at Malcolm’s face and throat.
Malcolm grunted, dexterously dodging the blows. At the same time, his left arm shot up, blocking the blade’s descending arc, knocking his foe off balance long enough for him to get a solid, two-hand grip on the man’s elbow joint. Using all his bodyweight, he bent the arm backwards. There was a sickening crunch. The soldier roared with pain, dropped his dirk again, then doubled over and vomited.
Malcolm brought up his own blade, and he was about to finish the fellow before he could raise the alarm when a slightmovement to his right caught his eye. He flicked a fast glance in that direction, expecting another attacker, and did a double take.
To his amazement, Catriona was standing nearby, watching them fight. Anger at her disobedience flared inside him.
Did I nae tell her tae go?!And why is she starin’ like that?
“I told ye tae run!” he shouted at her, struggling to keep his eyes on her and his opponent at the same time. He noticed she had a small rock clutched in her fist.
What’s she daein’ with that?
Just then, she drew back her arm and flung the rock at the soldier with all her might. In disbelief, Malcolm tracked the missile, which hit the man’s injured arm, eliciting another yell of pain before it bounced off and landed in the bushes.
