Page 43 of Much Ado About a Scot

Isobel jabbed her elbow into his gut, and he gasped. The pressure of the dagger lessened. She twisted out of his grasp, feeling the blade run along her throat, followed by a thin trickle of blood. She stepped into the front parlor, going for her crossbow when Bothwell ruthlessly grabbed her arm and yanked her back against his chest.

“You will pay for that insult,” he said with a snarl.

Before he dragged her from the chamber, Isobel saw the crumbled pile of debris on her floor. He’d come through the tunnel that Xander had tried to seal off. If she had the chance to seal the tunnel again, she would do so with difficult-to-move boulders next time instead of mud and sticks.

He dragged her out the door and into the open as he wrapped his arm about her waist so tightly she could scarcely breathe. She felt the warmth of her own blood trickling down her throat, and with every lumbering movement, the point of the dagger pricked her flesh a little more, sending tiny stabs of pain into her neck.

Isobel struggled to drag in a breath as darkness edged her field of vision. Determinedly she sucked in a breath, keeping the darkness at bay. Only then did she see a familiar outline in the distance, closing fast.

Isobel felt her captor’s body stiffen as his attention shifted to Xander and the murderous look on his face. He advanced, sword drawn, as though not even Isobel’s body would stop him from achieving his goal of apprehending, if not killing Bothwell.

With a snarl, Bothwell hauled her toward the road. “Stay back or I will slice her neck clear through.”

At the sight of Bothwell, the men surrounding the house shifted toward her. Like a brook flowing freely after a spring rain, they shifted position until Bothwell was surrounded once more.

Bothwell’s eyes glittered. “Her death will be on your hands if you take another step closer!”

“Please,” she rasped. Her voice sounded harsh and frightened to her own ears. “I have a son. He needs his mother.”

Bothwell growled at Xander. “Did you hear that? She wants to live for her son.”

Xander skidded to a stop ten feet from her. The anger on his face shifted to concern. “Release her and we’ll speak on your behalf to the king.”

“My cousin has fear beyond reason about my intentions toward his crown. He created the false charges of witchcraft against me, and in the end, he’ll cast me off as he did his own mother. Nay, I’ll take my chances with the girl.”

Stillness hung in the air, broken only by the sound of her own ragged breathing. Isobel considered her options. If she could wrestle an arm free, she might be able to knock Bothwell off-balance again, giving Xander time to reach her before the man slit her throat.

She struggled against Bothwell’s iron grip, then suddenly stilled as she heard Jamie’s footsteps behind her. Her body went rigid. She prayed Xander also saw the little boy’s approach. But instead of moving toward her son, Xander lifted his right hand, circling it in the air before bringing it down.

A dark shadow hovered over her and Bothwell for a split second before a familiar screech sounded. The golden eagle who regularly hovered over their fields, dove straight for Bothwell’s head, its talons extended.

Bothwell screamed as the raptor grazed the side of his face, leaving four gashes behind.

Isobel coiled her muscles, about to break free when she heard her son behind her.

“Let my mummy go!”

Bothwell yelped in pain and staggered forward. His arms loosened and Isobel twisted out of his grip. She fell forward just as Xander leapt into action. In one leap he was on Bothwell, and took him to the ground with a thud.

Xander tossed his sword aside and wrenched Bothwell’s hands behind his back, securing them until two other men rushed forward to bind their adversary at the hands and feet.

Jamie. From the ground, Isobel pushed up to peer behind her and saw her son, his face pale as he stared at the small dagger protruding from Bothwell’s calf. Isobel scrambled on her knees to her son’s side. Mentally giving thanks, she closed her eyes for a second and savored the feel of her little boy in her arms. She hugged him until he wiggled, trying to get away.

“Mummy, you’re smothering me.”

Still holding his hand, she smiled down at him. “You were so brave, sweetheart. You saved me.”

The little boy pursed his lips. “Naw, it wasn’t only me. Xander and the eagle helped.”

Her gaze lifted to Xander’s. His gray eyes filled with raw emotion that brought a lump to her throat. He stood and allowed his brothers-in-arms to lead Bothwell to a horse waiting nearby.

“Are you unharmed?” he asked, extending a hand to help her up.

She nodded, still feeling the sting of the cut at her neck. “It’s nothing boiled water and a salve won’t cure.”

Freya took off her apron and handed it to Isobel. “Stop the bleeding with this.”

Isobel accepted the soft muslin and pressed it to her throat with one hand and held on to Jamie’s hand with her other. “What will happen to Bothwell now?”