Page 24 of Highland Ruse

Horror.

All of it washed over her in rapid succession.

Then she remembered: she’d given it to Leasa to offer her a feeling of protection.

Her act of generosity would be her death.

Delilah wriggled in earnest to free herself, but the man was too heavy, his grasp on her too tight.

He gripped a handful of her hair and yanked her head back, leaving her throat exposed. A metallic taste filled Delilah’s mouth and ice ran through her body.

For the first time in as long as she could remember, she was truly afraid.

The man’s hand jerked back to strike, a blade gripped in his fist.

She was going to die.

The man’s chest punched outward, and he threw his head back in a yowl of agony. He whirled around and brought the dagger with him.

Away from her.

Leasa stood behind him, her face white and her eyes round with horror. The man leapt off Delilah, revealing her busk blade jutting from his back.

He lunged at Leasa before Delilah had time to stand. Her skirts were too voluminous, her bodice too tight.

Leasa screamed.

No.

Delilah floundered against her clothing in her attempt to rise in haste.

Not Leasa.

Chapter Six

Leasa had saved Delilah, and now she would die for her bravery.

The man raised his knife overhead and Leasa cowered from him. Delilah shoved herself up from the ground, but before she could lurch toward the man, something flashed in front of her—the bulk of a body and a glint of steel.

Kaid plunged his sword into their attacker’s chest so hard, the tip of the long blade showed through his back.

The attacker’s breath choked from his lungs, and his dagger fell with a wet splat into the mud.

Kaid pulled his sword free with a moist sucking sound. For a moment, the man stayed upright on bent knees before finally crumpling to the ground with a long, low exhale.

Delilah stared at the body, wanting to be sure he was dead before she turned her attention from him. Her heart beat so hard and fast, it rendered her breathless.

She’d almost lost her own life. She’d almost lost Leasa.

The man stared into the distance, dull and unfocused with death.

Strong hands gripped her arms. Her body responded by thrusting an arm into her pocket where the dagger lay against her thigh. No sooner had her fingers curled around the hilt than she recognized the face in front of hers as Kaid’s. His blue eyes were fixed on her as if he were trying to peer into her soul.

“Elizabeth.” The name came out in a hoarse cry.

But not her name.

Elizabeth.