An Auctioned Bride (Highland Heartbeats #4)(34)

He quickly stood and turned, both ax and the knife at the ready, his gaze scanning every bit of the landscape around them. He had to get back to his horse. Something was out there, and it wasn't anything good.

The noise had come from a distance, like a rock hitting another. He quickly turned and looked down over his shoulder at her.

“Can you walk?” He didn't wait for her to answer, but reached down to help her up.

While she managed to stand, her face lost its color, and a most definite grimace of pain marred her features as she placed even the slightest bit of weight on her right foot, he had his answer.

“Climb up on my back,” he said, hunching down.

“What?”

“Quickly, Dalla. Climb onto my back! Make no noise!”

She scrambled onto his back and clasped her arms around his shoulders, clasping her hands together at the base of his neck. She wrapped her left leg around his hips, the injured leg to a lesser degree.

“We have to get back to my horse.” He felt her nod and then she buried her head against his shoulder as he quickly darted through the trees, again careful to make as little noise as possible. A short distance away, he found his horse, no longer grazing, but looking downslope, ears twitching in that direction.

He quickly lowered Dalla off his back, and then immediately swung her up onto his horse. He followed, climbing up behind her.

Just as he turned his horse away from the trees, prepared to climb higher, a wisp of sound flew past his ear and hit the tree just beyond them.

He looked to find the shaft of an arrow vibrating from the tree bark. A chunk of bark shot off from the pine tree beside them, grazed by another arrow, causing Dalla to utter a gasp of alarmed surprise.

He felt several pieces of bark strike his arm as he urged his horse forward, hunched down over her as she huddled in front of him, protecting her as best he could while his horse lunged upward.

He felt the gelding's muscles bunching with the effort, scrambling for purchase on the steep slope, over rocks and tree roots.

Shouts from below echoed up into the hills, reverberating off the walls.

He had rounded a cluster of pine interspersed with birch before he felt something warm on his thigh.

He glanced down and cursed.

An arrow had pierced his thigh, and he was bleeding.

Badly.





20





Hunched over the neck of the horse, climbing upward, hanging desperately onto clumps of the horse's mane, Dalla tried to stifle the panic that threatened to rise, before it ripped from her throat in a terrified scream.

Why?

Why was this happening to her? What had she done, against her family, against God, to deserve such hardships?

She felt the warmth of Hugh's body hovering over her, so close that his chest pressed against her back, arms wrapped around her while he guided his horse.

He offered a stalwart sense of security, of protection; but what was one man alone against three or more who would likely be carrying not only quivers full of arrows, but swords and axes?

And who was that better-dressed man with them that she had spied before disappearing into the woods?

She had run away from the hut, ignoring the pain of stones beneath her thin slippers. Behind, at the hut, she'd heard the sound of shouts and then the horses galloping away. Where was Hugh? What would he think when he returned to find her gone? What would—

A soft grunt behind her caused her to stiffen and cast a glance over her shoulder. Her eyes widened in alarm when she saw Hugh's face.

What—

She glanced down at the leg beside her, saw his leather breeches drenched in blood. Oh Lord. help her! She saw the shaft of an arrow protruding from the center of his thigh.

“Hugh! You're—”

A brilliant flash of lightning lit up the sky, seeming to rise from the ground itself.

Seconds later, a crash of thunder crackled overhead, echoing between the spires of rock through which they climbed and then rumbling even further down through the narrow valley.

Just over the rumbling, she heard the sound of voices, not far in the distance. There were catching up to them! But who were they and what did they want?

And then, horror of horrors, Hugh suddenly toppled from the back of the horse. The gelding immediately stopped, prancing nervously around his master.

She slid off as well. Taking a chance that the horse wouldn't go far, she slapped its rump, shimmying quickly away just in case the gelding decided to show a fit of temper toward her.

He gazed at her a moment, then trotted away, weaving its way among the rocks until it disappeared. She prayed that he'd come back, but not too quickly.

She glanced down at Hugh, half-conscious, lying on his side in front of a cluster of shrubs. She had no idea what kind, but they were thick and leafy. The ground felt damp beneath her feet—one bare, one foot still wearing a slipper.

It started to rain, big fat drops at first, then mellowing into a gentle, steady rain.

She placed a hand on Hugh's shoulder and leaned down close.

“I heard voices,” she said, speaking close to his ear.

Suddenly, he lifted an arm and flattened her onto the ground beside him, holding her close.

At first, she struggled, but then, noticing his pain and the firm shake of his head, she stilled. Her heart thundered in her chest as she heard the snap of a twig not far away.

“I saw them go up this way.” The voice was thick and heavy with a Scottish brogue.