Page 57 of Highlander’s Lesser Evil

“Gemma!” Elizabeth screamed as she raced to her side. Immediately, the men stopped what they were doing and realized that their captives were trying to escape.

“She’s losing the baby!” Elizabeth shouted as she cradled Gemma’s head and rocked her back and forth. “Ye have all killed her child! Ye will all rot in hell!”

“What is the meaning of this?” Thomas roared as he stepped forward. The men parted as he knelt down by Gemma’s side and studied her. “Whatever has happened to make ye lose yer child is not our fault. Yer wound is here.”

Frowning, he peeled back the fabric that was pressed against her shoulder, and inhaled sharply. Gemma knew what he was seeing. The wound was bubbling, and the pain was taking her breath away.

“How did this happen?”

“Ye poisoned her! Ye never intended to let us go!” Elizabeth wailed. Her tendency for theatrics was in overdrive. “Ye poisoned her, and now she is losing her babe!”

“I didnae poison her!” Thomas snapped as the others started to back away. Death of an heir would mean their certain death if Theo lived to claim his revenge. Kidnapping was one thing, but murder was another.

And Theo’s reputation did precede him.

“Ye said this was a kidnapping and ransom,” one of them said with a look of distaste on his face. “Ye said nothing about harming a pregnant woman.”

“It was a shallow wound,” Thomas said tersely, but there was a strange look of horror on his face. He was willing to betray his friend, but this was crossing the line, even for him.

Which meant he never intended to kill them at all.

“I am sorry, lass. The babe was to grow up safely in the keep under the watchful eye of his grandfather,” he said as he pressed the bloodied rag back to her wound.

Patrick? Rage coursed through her. He wasn’t planning on releasing her. He was going to keep her prisoner until her child was born, so they could raise him or her.

It would be a cold day in hell before she let that monster anywhere near her child.

Still, she couldn’t give in to her disgust now. She was meant to be dying.

Gasping for breath, she clutched at him and began to whisper. When he bent down to her, she pulled the dagger out from beneath her dress folds and readied to drive it into his shoulder when a loud popping noise had him jerking back.

Looking over his shoulder, she smiled briefly when she saw that Jillian had done her job. The tents were going up in flames.

“No!” Thomas roared, and jumped to his feet. He grabbed at Elizabeth, but she’d pulled his sword from the sheath just as Gemma stabbed him with the dagger. “Ye tricked me!”

There was no time to gloat. This was just the distraction and would hopefully signal to the patrols of Loch Moran that something was wrong.

“Run!” Gemma gasped.

At the real sound of her pain, Elizabeth reached for her, but Gemma shook her head. They didn’t have time for that. Pain or no, it was now or never. Grabbing her hand, they raced toward the loch. Jillian already had a head start, and as much as Gemma wanted to split up and double their chances to make it, she feared that the men were now too angry to care who died.

Mercenaries were right behind them and gaining by the second. “Keep going,” Gemma said as she released Elizabeth’s hand. “I will buy you some time.”

“No. I’m not leaving ye here. There is no telling what they will do to ye! We escape together or we fall together. I know these woods, and they doonae. Follow me.” There was so much ferocity and determination in her friend’s voice that Gemma had no choice but to follow.

So they ran until Gemma feared her legs would give out from under her. Ignoring the pain from her wound, she raced with Elizabeth until they’d gained some distance.

Then Elizabeth was pulling her down one of the sheer drops of the rocky edges. Muffling a scream, Gemma dropped, and Elizabeth pulled her back and pressed her against the wall of the drop with a finger to her lips.

Above them, feet thundered past.

Closing her eyes, Gemma held her breath and prayed they would not be found.

When Theo arrived with his troop of men and his prisoner, the patrols at the border were sparse.

“What is this?” Theo roared.

A young man stepped forward, pale and shaky. He was from the loch, barely trained. “L-Laird,” he stuttered. “Graeme took some of the men to the other side of the loch. Smoke was rising from the woods. He was most insistent that the lasses might be there.”