Page 80 of How to Be a Scottish Mistress

Icy talons clutched Fiona’s heart at those looks, the fear strong and sharp. She fought to stay calm, knowing she must not allow herself to panic. All was not lost. They had been captured, but thus far were uninjured.

At a nod from Gilroy, Alec moved between her and Aileen. He first grasped Aileen around the waist with his left arm, then did the same with his right to Fiona. Their hands and feet still bound, the women hobbled beside him as he half carried, half dragged them to a shady area beneath the trees.

Alec relinquished his hold and they fell, rather ungracefully, to the ground, each landing on their backs. Amused laughter rumbled from the circle of men who were obviously watching their every move. Fiona was certain they resembled a pair of flapping fish just pulled from the loch. Trying to regain her dignity, she rolled onto her stomach, her chin nearly colliding with the top of Aileen’s head.

“We must try to escape,” Aileen hissed.

Fiona could not contain a small grin. Aileen’s fighting spirit bolstered her own flagging courage, but they could not afford to be foolish. “We will not get very far rolling our way through the woods,” Fiona said, lifting her bound hands for emphasis.

Aileen winced. “I meant as soon as our feet and hands are freed from these bonds.”

“I’m uncertain if that will occur anytime soon.”

“They cannae keep us tied indefinitely,” Aileen sputtered.

Fiona merely raised her brow. Aileen glared at her for a long moment before her shoulders sagged. “The earl will rescue us,” she declared, yet Fiona could hear the trace of helplessness in the young woman’s voice.

Fiona rolled to her side and watched the men, now gathered in a tight bunch, intently. A rather heated discussion was in progress, but most of the words were undistinguishable, making it impossible to follow the conversation. A rustling noise from the other side of the glen drew Fiona’s attention—and her hopes—yet they were quickly dashed when the grain wagon she had been riding with appeared.

She gave a short prayer of mercy for the souls of the men who had been riding with her. Perhaps one or two of them had managed to escape?

Clearly, the grain cart had been Gilroy’s original target. Capturing her and Aileen was merely a bonus to the outlaw, one he was delighted to exploit. If the situation had not been so dire, Fiona might have laughed at the irony. Father Niall’s concern for her safety upon leaving the castle and insistence that she travel with the grain cart had placed her directly in the path of the earl’s most despised and feared enemy.

The grain was quickly unloaded from the wagon. The sacks were counted, then lifted and tied on the backs of several horses. Once the bounty was secured, three of the men led the oxen away.

“’Tis a perfectly good cart,” one of them muttered. “I dinnae know why we have to chop it fer firewood.”

Gilroy shared a long, meaningful look with his men. “I want the job finished by nightfall. Make certain every trace of the damn thing is gone, including the wheels. Then distribute the wood among the houses in our glen.”

“Bring the oxen to the butcher in Wrenshire,” Alec added. “He’ll take a hefty portion fer himself and not ask any questions about how ye got them.”

The moment the trio left, another lengthy discussion ensued among the remaining men, complete with a few raised voices. Gilroy abruptly stopped the argument with a slash of his hand and the grumbling men fell silent.

Dirk drawn, Gilroy turned and approached her and Aileen. Fiona scrambled into a sitting position, a difficult maneuver with both her hands and feet tightly bound, yet somehow she managed. Aileen struggled to do the same and the women huddled against each other for support and courage.

“I’ll cut ye loose, but I give ye fair warning. As long as ye obey me, no harm will come to ye,” Ewan said, crouching down at their feet.

The promise sounded far more like a threat, but Fiona wasn’t about to argue. The tight bindings had rendered her hands and feet numb and she was certain Aileen was suffering as well.

“We will do as you say,” Fiona agreed, holding out her bound wrists.

With a swift, sharp swing, Ewan sliced through the thick ties and they fluttered to the ground. Blood immediately rushed to Fiona’s hands, creating a tinkling, throbbing pain. Wincing, she flexed her fingers, the residual stiffness making it difficult to move them.

He raised the knife a second time and freed her feet. A small trickle of blood ran down her foot where the bond had rubbed the flesh raw. Retrieving the sliced linen from the ground, Fiona searched for a clean section and touched it to the spot to soothe the wound.

“What about me?” Aileen asked in a quiet voice, the small quiver betraying her unease.

Gilroy’s eyes narrowed, but his lips curved into a smile. “Ye haven’t agreed to my terms, lass,” he said, pointing the knife toward Aileen’s face. She gave a small cry, hardly more than a whisper.

“Be careful!” Fiona admonished, protectively blocking the knife with her body.

Gilroy pulled back in surprise. “I would have thought ye’d want me to slit her throat.”

“What?” Fiona was shocked by the dreadful words he spoke with ominous cheer.

“If she’s dead, then the earl cannae make her his wife.”

“What a perfectly odious thing to say!” Fiona exclaimed, her eyes widening in horror.

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