Chapter 9

Isobel took refuge behind a stack of driftwood as soon as the fight broke out. She was stunned to watch as the men circled each other and clashed swords. She could imagine David saying, “The warriors are well matched,” and he would have been right. She’d seen David’s soldiers practice at the castle enough to know when the best were on the field together. The intensity of the battle made her pulse race, and fear for the outcome left her stomach in knots.

The action continued with Sir Alex’s sword locked against the assailant’s. He wore his short-sleeved tunic again, so Isobel could see Sir Alex’s muscled arms flex as he pushed against the man. The assailant seemed to push back with as much force.

She couldn’t bear to look, but she had no choice. Her eyes remained firmly fixed on the scene before her, the moonlight outlining everything.

The men stood with swords locked. They seemed to be at a stalemate for the longest time; neither one was losing or gaining ground. But then it looked as though Sir Alex was leaning back, instead of into the attacker. Is his strength giving out?

Fear flooded her body, seeming to completely encase her from head to toe. What if he fails? What if the other man wins? He’ll die!

Isobel screamed.

As soon as the cry escaped her lips, she wished it back again. Sir Alex’s eyes flashed toward her, concern filling his face. For a moment, time was suspended. It was just her and the crusader, and the chaos around them stilled.

But the chaos flashed back in, time sped up, and in the next moment, Sir Alex crashed to the ground, slamming his head against a rock.

“No!” Isobel cried out in horror as his body went limp. Her first instinct was to run to him, but then the attacker fixed his gaze on her.

Cold sweat trickled down her back. Isobel’s heart thundered in her chest as the cloaked man approached. He will kill me. I must flee! The words formed in her mind and yet her feet stayed firmly planted, even as the man stalked her down. The driftwood barrier provided no protection. You must keep the relic safe; you promised David. Finally, she forced her body into motion, and she ran. She dashed into the woods, narrowly avoiding the logs and brush that covered the forest floor. She ran until she could no longer make out the edge of the trees along the shoreline and hid behind the trunk of a pine. Then she listened. The seconds passed by, and yet she heard nothing. Surely, he followed her into the woods. Unless he meant to finish Sir Alex off before he came after her. The thought made bile rise in the back of her throat. Oh, God, what have I done? Was it my fault? If there was one thing David insisted on, it was that his men stay focused in battle. “Being distracted could cost you your life,” he’d warned.

The warning was a reminder for her now.

She didn’t know the terrain and hadn’t the physical strength or skills to take on such a warrior. Her limited training from David only went so far. It had saved her from an overweight fiend days before, but a skilled warrior was not something she was prepared for. Her best hope was to stay hidden until daylight.

She wrapped the cloak tightly around herself and leaned back against the tree, taking a slow deep breath to steady herself. She closed her eyes and took another deep breath. As she exhaled, the cold tip of a blade pressed into her neck. Snapping her eyes open, she saw her attacker.

The wind had died down, and the forest was silent. All she could hear was her breathing and the attacker’s labored inhale and exhale as he recovered from his altercation with Sir Alex. Alex! No, I cannot think of him now. The pressure of the blade increased, taking her back to the present. She leaned as far back against the tree as she could, but the pressure from the blade followed.

Isobel studied the figure before her. He was imposing, and his fight with Alex proved his skill and strength. In the darkened forest, his features were hidden. He stood in the shadow of another tree, so she could not make out his face in the moonlight. But she did not need to read his face to know his intent—the blade made that clear.

Instead of collapsing in tears of defeat, she straightened her spine and flexed the muscles in her arms. It’s not over yet.

“Easy now. No quick movements.” His voice was surprisingly gentle, as if his intent was not sinister after all.

But why have the pretense? Why the effort to calm me? “What do you want?” she asked, still leaning away to escape the press of the metal against her skin.

“The relic.” The two simple words hung in the air, but they had more impact than the press of his blade. Isobel had feared for her life before, but now her fear was even greater.

He knows of the relic! I cannot react to his words. Pretending to be ignorant was her and the relic’s best chance.

“What are you speaking of?”

“You know of what I speak. Do not pretend otherwise,” he threatened.

“ ’Tis not pretending if it’s the truth,” she said. “I am just a bride traveling home with my husband.”

“Course you are,” he said. “And I’m the King of Scots.”

Isobel studied the assailant. He relaxed his arm slightly, which moved the blade off her neck. She did not mistake his relaxed stance as an opportunity to escape. She could not outrun him.

“Time to hand it over, Lady Isobel.”

“My name is Mary. Mary MacKinnon.” She could have kicked herself for how her voice wavered.

“I tire of this talk. Give me the relic, and I will be on my way.”

“I’m afraid I cannot give you what you want.”

“That is unfortunate.” He hesitated for a moment, as if deciding the next course. “Turn and face the tree.”

Does he mean to slit my throat? If he’s going to kill me, he can face me. She held her ground and refused to turn.

“I said turn. Now.” His tone was firm, and she was certain many a person, man or woman, obeyed that voice when it gave commands. Yet, she would not.

“If you mean to kill me, then do it. But do not expect me to make the task easy for you.”

He did not respond. Instead, he grabbed her by the shoulder and spun her around.

Isobel awkwardly stumbled against the tree as he pressed her face into the bark.

She tightened her hold on her sgian dubh. The small blade was barely longer than her middle finger, but it was sharp. He would kill her, or perhaps he intended to bind her wrists. Before he could do either one, she had to act.

He temporarily moved his hand and sword away from her body, and she took the opportunity. Isobel spun around and swung with all of her might into him, ramming the small blade into his side. He staggered back, pulling Isobel’s cloak with him.

“No!” she screamed, as the cloak tore off her shoulders into the assailant’s hands. She reached for the cloth, trying to grab for the pocket that held the relic, but the man bundled it up against his chest.

“It’s in here, isn’t it?” He held his blade back up, pointing it at Isobel, and tucked the cloak under his arm. He grunted in pain as he pulled the blade from his side, tossing it to the ground.

Isobel went to reach for it, but the man’s blade pressed against her side.

“That would be foolish,” he said. She could hear the pain in his voice, but she had no doubt the attacker had plenty of strength left in him. She backed away from her knife.

“Hidden in the cloak, aye?” he asked, as he felt through the cloak with his free hand. When he found the hidden pocket, he stilled. “I’ll be on my way then.”

In an instant, he disappeared into the forest. She thought of taking chase after him, but she knew what she had to do. Retrieving her knife from the ground, she turned and ran back to the loch.

Once she made it into the clearing, she found Sir Alex. He was on his hands and knees, trying to stand.

“You’re alive!” she shouted. She ran to him and knelt on the rocky beach, reaching her hand out gingerly to touch his head. He hissed in pain, and she quickly moved her hand away.

“Alex, are you well?” she asked.

“I seem to be. The damn rock knocked me out cold.” He leaned back on his heels, his hands pressed to his face as he opened and closed his eyes slowly, as if testing them out. He looked at her. “Did he hurt you?”

“No, I’m fine. I wounded him.” She explained how the attacker found her in the woods and she’d stabbed him in the side. Alex’s eyes fixed on the forest behind her.

“I am sorry you had to do that, Isobel. I did not protect you the way I should have.”

“Alex, you fought bravely. It is nothing to be ashamed of. He’s a very skilled warrior.”

Alex’s jaw set in a grim line, and she sensed her words had not soothed him.

He studied her more closely and frowned, reaching out to touch her arms.

“Where’s your cloak?”

“He took it.”

“Why would he take your cloak?” Alex asked. Then he quickly added, “What was in it, Isobel?”

“If you are able to run, we must catch up with him. Can you track in the woods at night?”

He stood all the way up, blinking as he touched the side of his head. Then he fixed his gaze firmly on her. “Isobel, what was in your cloak?”

“I must get it back!” she cried. “Can’t you see? There isn’t time to explain.”

She ran for the thicket of trees, but Alex called after her.

“Isobel, stop!” His voice thundered in her ears, but she wouldn’t stop. She reached the line of the forest but hesitated to go in.

“You cannae go in there!”

“But I have to!”

“Have to? What did you lose?” he yelled, as he jogged over to her.

“Something of great value,” she choked out.

Alex reached for her, pulling her to stand in front of him. Isobel felt frantic as she looked up at the crusader. Why is he wasting time?

“What was in the cloak, Isobel?” he repeated.

“It is something David entrusted into my care. It is very important, Alex. We must get it back.”

“I will help you, Isobel, but first I want to know exactly what it is.”

She took a deep breath and looked Alex in the eye. Keeping it secret didn’t matter, now that the relic was lost. “Hidden in my cloak is the Holy Rood of Scotland.”