Lion's Legacy. Suzanne Barclay
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walked along the river. Overhead, the leaves fluttered in the breeze that carried the rich smell of damp earth and herbs. Lacy ferns nodded to the same beat, heads bobbing over the rushing water. The familiar sounds and scents soothed her raw nerves.
The thought of chopping down the forest hurt, even though she knew Kieran was right; it did pose a danger. Rude and arrogant he might be, but the man clearly knew his trade.
A crackle in the brush up ahead stopped Laurel cold. Praying her dark clothes blended into the shadows, she held her breath.
“Where did MacLellan get those mercenaries?” a man snarled.
Laurel choked, then clapped her hand over her mouth.
“How am I to know?” The second voice was low and raspy as a rusty hinge.
“Bloody hell. They outnumber us now. We’ll have to lie low and send for the rest of my army,” the first man muttered.
“Fool,” the gravel voice said. “If we strike whilst the mercenaries are away from the valley, we’ll stand a better chance of overpowering the men they’ve left behind.”
Sweet Mary! ’Twas the reivers! Laurel trembled, struggling to hear over the frantic beat of her own heart.
“We’ll work our way downstream till we’re out of sight of the guards at the tunnel, cross the plain, fetch back the rest of the men and attack,” said the rougher of the two.
“They are my men, and I say we wait.” It seemed the smooth-talking man was the one in charge here.
What to do? Should she stay here until they left, or work her way back to her horse and ride to warn the men on the cliffs? Leave! her better sense urged. She took a cautious step back; a twig snapped beneath her boot.
“What was that?” This came from the gravel voice.
“Likely an animal. We’ve a good view of the river from here, no one could have sneaked up on us.”
“But there’s thick woods twixt here and the crossing, and we haven’t been watching careful since the mercenaries rode out.”
Laurel froze, heart pounding so hard she feared the spies would hear it. She couldn’t see them for the gloom and intervening foliage. With any luck, they couldn’t see her. But to move was to risk detection. Mind racing with equal parts fear and determination, she sifted through her options.
“I’m going to take a look around,” the gravel voice said.
That decided things. Laurel began backing up. Her stomach rolled as she saw a figure rise in the shadows only twenty feet away. ’Twas now or never. She lurched around and took off running through the trees.
“As ye see, the river cuts so close to the mountains that there isn’t any bank to speak of on the far side.” Ellis gestured toward sheer cliffs that seemed to sprout out of the water.
Kieran nodded, impressed by the natural barrier. “Is it like this the rest of the way around these mountains?”
“Aye. On the valley side the slopes are gentle enough to graze our beasts on, but the outside is steep and unforgiving. Every now and then a sheep wanders up to the top, loses its footing and tumbles down the other side. Breaks its neck, that.”
“Hmm. So, clearly if an attack comes, it must be mounted against the tunnel entrance.”
“Aye. But we’ve beaten them back twice. Mayhap they’ll grow tired of throwing men after a losing cause and leave us be.”
“It doesn’t seem so. Your lookouts reported seeing smoke in the Lowthers. Likely they are camped there, just waiting for an opportunity to strike. We’ll have to stop them,” he muttered. The sooner the better, then he’d collect his pay and ride away.
Ellis sighed. “How do we do that?”
“Take the fight to them. We’ll lay a trap and lure them into it.” Even as he spoke the words, Kieran felt his gut tighten with apprehension. What the...? A quick sweep of the plain, riverbank and mountain cliff yielded no sign of trouble. And yet... “We should be getting back.” It wasn’t a whim, it was necessity that had him tugging Rath around. He had to get back. He had to make certain Laurel was all right.
Now what had put that maggot in his brain? She’d amply proven her ability to protect herself. But...
Dread icing his skin beneath his woolen tunic, Kieran urged the stallion into a gallop, scarcely caring that the warhorse’s great strides soon carried him well ahead of his men. Just as he reached the river ford, a scream shattered the silence, echoing off the cliff face.
Laurel!
Kieran started toward the river, then realized the cry had came from downstream on this side of the water. Setting spurs to Rath, he raced along the tree line. Those damned trees. God alone knows why she’d ventured from the safety of the cliffs.
“Laurel! Laurel!” Kieran roared.
In answer, her horse suddenly burst from the brush up ahead. Eyes rolling white in their sockets, ears laid flat, it ran past as though pursued by the hounds of hell. Heedless of the danger, Kieran plunged into the trampled brush. A few paces into the woods, he came upon a scene that confirmed his worst fears.
Laurel, her back to a tree, her dirk flashing before her as she tried to keep a man at bay. Another lay on the ground, an arrow protruding from his arm. The dimness couldn’t hide the fear in her eyes or the blood on her tunic.
“Laurel!” Kieran leapt from Rath even before the stallion had come to a stop, and ran forward, drawing his sword.
“Kieran!” Laurel’s face shone with relief.
’Twas short-lived. For her opponent used the moment to knock her weapon aside. Grabbing hold of her arm, he jerked her back against him and laid the edge of his sword against the vulnerable curve of her neck. “Move and she dies”
“Harm her and ’twill take you days to die,” Kieran vowed, but he stopped. He dared not even look at Laurel for fear he’d go mad and charge the man who threatened her life.
“An empty promise,” snarled the man who held Laurel. To his cohort he called, “Get our mounts.”
The man, larger and better dressed than the other brigand, struggled to his feet and stumbled off through the woods. Despite his injury, he returned in a flash leading a pair of horses. So anxious was he to be off, that the man swung into the saddle even as he flung the reins of the second beast at his friend.
Kieran would be damned if he’d give her up. “If ’tis a hostage you want, take me in her place.”
“Nay,” Laurel exclaimed.
“She suits my purpose better,” her captor said, then started dragging her toward his horse.
Damn. Where were Ellis and the others? Kieran had never felt as powerless or as desperate as he did now. He couldn’t let them take Laurel. “If ’tis ransom you want, take my horse. His trappings alone are worth a king’s ransom.”
The reiver stopped and raised the visor on his helmet to look Rath over, revealing a hideously scarred face. Jesu, the man looked as though he’d climbed up from hell itself.
Poor Laurel was likely near to fainting in this fiend’s clutches. Kieran glanced at her, intent on offering what comfort he could. Fainting, ha! The little vixen raised that deadly knee of hers and buried it in the vulnerable juncture of her captor’s thighs. The man screamed, dropped her arm and bent forward.
Laurel dashed toward Kieran and he toward her. To him, it seemed to take a lifetime for them to meet.
“Oh, Kieran.”
She wrapped herself around him, panting and shivering. She felt so small, so vulnerable. Everything inside him tensed with the need to protect her.
“Hush. ’Tis all right,” he murmured, voice raw with fear, relief