Page 87 of Captured by a Laird
“Nay,” Ian said.
“If ye won’t go, let me have your horse, and I will.”
“The laird said to keep ye here,” Ian said, glaring down at her. “Ye may have fooled those two dimwits at the gate this morning, but I know better.”
When she started for his horse, he blocked her path. He fingered the rope around his waist to remind her of David’s order to tie her if necessary. She beat on his shoulder, but he would not budge. There was nothing she could do but wait.
She felt as if she had died a thousand deaths before Robbie emerged from the brush. When she saw Margaret clinging to him on the back of his horse, tears welled in her eyes.Praise God!
Robbie rode up the hill to her. She saw the blood-soaked sleeve of his sword arm as he handed Margaret down to her from his horse, and she wanted to weep for what this fourteen-year-old lad had to do to bring her daughter back.
“You’re a good and brave young man, Robbie,” Alison said. “I’m forever in your debt.”
Robbie’s cheeks flushed. He gave her a quick nod, then turned his horse and rode into the fight.
Alison covered Margaret’s eyes to prevent her from seeing more bloodshed and hummed to block out the men’s screams as they died. Dear God, what had she done? The blood spilled today was on her hands. None of this would have happened if she had not left the protection of the castle.
Margaret lifted her head and asked, “Where’s Beatrix?”
“Don’t worry,” Alison said, and brushed her daughter’s hair from her face. “David’s gone after her.”
Margaret dropped her head against Alison’s chest, as if that was all she needed to hear.
Many things had become clear to Alison today. She had learned who she could trust and who she could not. And she knew with absolutely certainty that David would not return without her daughter.
***
A murderous rage coursed through David’s limbs, pulsed in his chest, and tinged the edges of his vision blood red. The Blackadders would pay for taking his wife and stepdaughters with their miserable lives.
Riding at a breakneck gallop, he was steadily closing the distance between him and the two horses. Patrick Blackadder was on one while his brother rode with Beatrix. All David could see of her behind the brother’s bulky frame was a bit of bright skirt and a tangle of dark hair blowing in the wind.
He’d never let them take her.
He spurred his horse to go faster still. Patrick Blackadder looked over his shoulder and saw him coming.
Aye, I’m going to catch and kill you. You’ve committed your last misdeed against me and mine, Patrick Blackadder.
David was close enough now he could almost taste revenge.
Patrick shouted something to his brother, then suddenly veered sharply to the right.Damn him to hell.David could only follow one. He stayed on the brother’s trail, as Patrick must have known he would.
He ground his teeth in frustration as he watched Patrick ride off, his image growing smaller and smaller on the horizon. The man was even lower than David had believed. Rather than take a chance that the two of them could prevail against him in a fight, Patrick had abandoned his brother to make his own escape.
His horse’s mane whipped David’s face as he leaned low over its neck and pushed the animal harder still. As he drew up beside the other rider, Beatrix turned wild eyes on him. Their horses’ hooves thundered over the ground. Letting go of his reins, David rammed his dirk into the man’s thigh and grabbed Beatrix with his other hand while his enemy screamed and reflexively reached for his wound.
The bastard was quick, though, and caught David’s arm. Beatrix screamed in his ear and galloping hooves blurred before his eyes as he was nearly wrenched off his horse. He slammed his fist against the hilt of the dagger in the man’s thigh. When the man let go of him with a howl of pain, David quickly righted himself.
He saw terror in his enemy’s eyes.Aye, death and David Hume have come for you.Holding Beatrix against his chest with one arm, he unsheathed his sword with the other and cut his opponent down with one sweeping motion.
He slowed to a trot and watched the Blackadder horse drag the brother’s limp body, which was caught by one foot, along the ground.
Battle rage still pumped in his veins. He stared off in the direction Patrick had ridden. Beatrix was safe now. He could set her down to await his return while he rode after Patrick.
David needed to see Patrick’s blood on his sword, to hear the sharp sound of steel ringing this enemy’s death song in his ears. But then he looked down at Beatrix, who had buried her face in his chest and was gripping his shirt in her wee fists, and knew he could not leave her.
Patrick would face his wrath another day.
***
