‘She said her brother is dead.’ A man emerged from behind a tree. ‘And now, so are you.’
Caird freed his sword, but it didn’t take the noise of the others emerging from the trees to know they were outnumbered and trapped.
It only took the tiny sound from Mairead, her pressing close to him and taking the small blade from his boot.
He turned around. Seven men, including the one in front of him. He was small and grey streaked his pale hair. There was something shrivelled about him, despite his fleshy jowls and the feverish look in his protuberant vengeful eyes.
‘You can try, Englishman,’ Caird scoffed.
Seven men. He’d done it before. Not all at once, though, and not with a woman to protect.
The Englishman smirked. ‘I will do more than try, Caird of Clan Colquhoun. I will succeed. As I always do.’
‘Not today.’
The man stepped forward. ‘You are a mere delay.’
Caird felt Mairead shift her feet as if readying to fight. Whatever lack of trust between them, Mairead’s brave response indicated she wasn’t in partnership with these men.
Which was no comfort now. It only meant she needed to be hidden and somewhere they couldn’t find her. She needed to be anywhere but here.
Mairead recognised the Englishman. Too late, far too late, but she remembered now. Intent on Ailbert selling the dagger, she’d been barely aware of the people in the market around him.
Walking to the stall, even her brother hadn’t noticed the two men approach him. Then there had been a flash of steel, an arm thrusting forward, her brother collapsing to the ground. The other man, the thief, was slow to react, eventually grabbing the jewelled dagger and putting it under his cloak.
Why hadn’t she remembered there had been two of them? Or the thief’s hesitation? There was only one reason for the hesitation. The killer, this Englishman, had deviated from a plan.
Which meant there was a plot, and this was not a random taking of a valuable.
As if she could doubt that now, surrounded as they were. She had been so afraid of her family being trapped she had never considered herself.
Maybe it was because she wasn’t like her giggling sisters. This man had killed her brother and she wasn’t backing down. Her only regret now was that Caird faced the man, while she faced his accompanying soldiers, but for once she’d have patience.
‘A delay from what?’ Caird demanded.
The man gave a disapproving tut. ‘You wouldn’t disappoint me now, would you? Pretending you don’t know anything. Such a shame as you’ve been clever so far.’
The men shifted. Were they following silent orders? She kept her eyes on them.
The man’s voice cajoled. ‘Come, you found my man, acquired the woman, but started towards your cousins’ lands as if you were to continue to the games? Brilliant. Truly, I admired you for the deceit.’
‘I doona ken your meaning, Englishman,’ Caird answered.
‘Your sword’s drawn. You understand enough.’
Caird was silent.
‘Or maybe not, eh?’ The man laughed. ‘Come, then, hand it over and I’ll make your deaths quick.’
‘Nae.’
‘No?’ Movement to Mairead’s left alerted her to the Englishman shifting. She could just see him out of the corner of her eye. Caird did not move. Was he allowing her to see or was it a tactic?
‘You disappointed me when you separated from your cousins and brother,’ the Englishman said, shaking his head. ‘I almost wished you’d left it with one of them, but I knew you wouldn’t.’
The man’s lips curved. ‘I can see your surprise. Even you must know there’s too much at stake.’
The man circled around until he stood in front of Mairead. She felt Caird tense as the men around them circled as well.
‘The Buchanan looks confused and incensed. An interesting combination for such an arresting face. Perhaps she doesn’t know?’ He reached to touch her but she raised the blade. Lowering his hand, he laughed, but it didn’t reach his eyes. ‘She doesn’t know, does she?’
‘What do you think I doona know?’ she demanded. She hated giving him the satisfaction of being right.
‘Truly, dear, it’s for the best you don’t know.’ He gave another disapproving sound and a wag of his finger. ‘Might even be convenient today. Your—brother?—maybe he, too, didn’t know. But he was going to that market stall and that wasn’t a chance I could take.’
A quick dash and the man was in front of Caird again. ‘Then you delayed me, but no more. I know you have it. It’s why you head this way and not to your laird.’ She felt Caird’s subtle adjustment. What was his plan?
‘You feign surprise?’ the Englishman derided. ‘Of course, people are so tiring in their predictability. I thought you were clever, Colquhoun. Clever enough to recognise what was in the dagger, to keep things silent, to cover your tracks, to think about the consequences of such a treasure. But then you headed this way. Predictable.’
Mairead fought fear and rage. There was something the Englishman said that sent ice through her blood, something that made her realise— No, no more thought.
She was sick of the Englishman’s condescending voice and all-knowing manner. She was sick of everyone’s arrogance. Tightening her hold on the dagger, she whirled to face him. ‘Why?’
‘Explanations are tedious.’ The man gave an exaggerated sigh. She wanted to imbed the blade in his heart. ‘I knew everything that would happen because a Buchanan would never trust a Colquhoun and vice versa. You were probably not entirely truthful, and he...’ he gestured to Caird ‘...probably didn’t believe you. Truly, dear, don’t move again.’
Facing Caird, he raised his sword. ‘Now give it to me.’
Caird moved, shielding her from the killer. ‘Nae.’
‘So be it.’
It happened fast. Faster than she had anticipated even though she knew it was coming. She tightened her hold, ready to fight, and then Caird’s foot swiped under hers and she was flat on the ground.
‘The horse!’ he yelled. She looked around her. The men were ignoring her. In this position, she could only cut their feet, while they could slice her between breaths.
Caird had ensured her safety and vulnerability. Scrambling, avoiding swipes of swords, feeling the cuts even so, the sting and heat of blood, she shut out everything but her survival. She saw the horse now standing near to theirs. A sign that she and Caird weren’t meant to survive.
Once she was far enough away, she half crouched, half ran, not looking behind her, knowing Caird was near. Another flash, the Englishman suddenly in front of her, grabbing a horse, his look darker than murder as their eyes met. Would he cut her down?
He swung up, giving a nod in her direction as if in greeting before he urged the horse to flee.
Suddenly a man fell beside her as Caird just stopped the downward swipe of his sword.
She blinked. Men were falling now, their vacant eyes before her. Caird was with her, but the last soldier was, too. She forced herself forward. Survive! Move!
By some miracle, they reached their horse. Caird swung up before her, his sword sweeping again, the high ground giving him the advantage as he grabbed her hand and pulled her behind him. There were no more soldiers and no sign of the Englishman.
She wrapped her arms around him as they raced through the woods.
Her eyes focused only on Caird, on his breath, on his strength, on the blood. There were no sounds of pursuit and her eyes and mind finally comprehended. Too much blood.
Was that his?