Page 4 of The Highlander's Illicit Bride
“She’s there!” the first man called as he pointed to her.
A sharp squeak burst from her mouth and as the two men spurred their horses, getting them racing across the clearing, Isolde turned and plunged back into the forest.
“Here! Here!” the soldier shouted. “She’s over here!”
She cut around the wide, thick trunk of a massive tree and risked a glance over her shoulder. She could see the bobbing light of a torch as the soldiers gave chase on foot, but they were well behind her. A small grin curled her lips as she weaved around a bush and all at once, she felt her stomach lurch. Her feet were somehow no longer on solid ground and Isolde felt weightless. She had but a moment to register that she had stepped off the steep incline of a creek bed she had not seen in the dark.
Isolde couldn’t stop the scream that burst from her mouth as she dropped like a stone. The impact with the side of the creek bed jarred her bones and drove the breath from her lungs. She tumbled down the embankment until she hit the frigid water with a loud splash. She ended up on her backside in a seated position in the soft, silty bottom. Isolde gasped, trying to catch her breath.
Before she could get to her feet, four of her father’s soldiers—two on either side of the creek bed—leaned over the edge. Their flickering torches glinted off the surface of the water around her. They all smiled down at her.
“There ye are,” said Merrick—a man she knew to be a captain of her father’s castle guard.
Tears of frustration spilled from the corners of her eyes as a powerful wave of fear washed over her. She clenched her jaw and tried to keep any more from falling. She would not give them the satisfaction of seeing her cry.
“Let me go,” she said, her voice calm and steady.
“I’m afraid we cannae dae that, Lady Isolde,” he answered. “Yer faither tasked us with bringin’ ye back tae Moy Castle.”
“Ye dinnae want tae dae this,” she said, putting a tone of menace into her voice. “I promise ye that I will make ye pay if ye dae this.”
The four men glanced at one another, then shared a laugh. Merrick turned back to her, his face etched with amusement.
“Nay offense intended, Lady Isolde, but we fear yer faither far more than we fear ye.”
Isolde got to her feet and glared at all of them in turn, marking their faces. She could see they did not take her seriously and thought she was little more than a joke, like her father. The fear in her breast dissolved and was quickly replaced by a dark rage.
The men were closing in on her though. No matter how hard she pushed herself, she wasn’t able to open a gap between them. She had no choice but to stand and fight.
Pulling one of the daggers she’d lifted from the armory from the sheath on her belt, she spun around quickly and slashed. The man who’d been reaching for her howled in agony as she opened a slice along the palm of his hand.
“Let’s nae have any more of this nonsense, Lady Isolde,” he said.
She slashed at him with her blade, trying to scare him off. But as the tip of her dagger whistled past his chin, he stepped inside her guard, grabbed her by the wrist, and gave it a twist. Isolde cried out in pain and the dagger fell from her grip, hitting the creek with a soft splash. The man behind Isolde grabbed her by the shoulders. She fought and thrashed to break free of their hands but they held her fast. Merrick frowned at her.
“Why are ye runnin’?” he asked. “The way I hear it, ye’re goin’ tae be marryin’ a rich man who’ll give ye everything ye could ever want.”
“Ye’d never understand,” she hissed.
“I tell ye this, lads, if I was told I had tae marry a rich, beautiful lass, wear silks and velvets every day and have servants and chambermaids tae tend tae me every need fer the rest of me life, I’d never complain once,” he said.
The men holding her laughed and grunted their agreement with their captain as Merrick bound her hands and hauled her out of the creek. Every step toward their horses felt like a step toward the gallows.
A movement in her peripheral vision caught her attention. She opened her mouth to say something but didn’t have the chance as the thick branches of the bushes parted with a loud rustle and something burst from them.
A man. A very large man.
CHAPTER THREE
The man, as big as a bear, erupted from the bushes with a vicious and resounding roar. Isolde saw the thick piece of wood in his hand—to her, it looked big enough to be an actual tree trunk.
“Look who ’tis,” said Merrick. “We’re goin’ tae get us a two fer one.”
“Laird Mackintosh will surely reward us handsomely fer bringin’ in nae only his daughter, but his missin’ prisoner too,” said another.
His companions smiled, no doubt imagining the riches they believed would be heaped upon them when they returned with her and her father’s missing prisoner.
“Are ye ready tae go back in chains then, filth?” Merrick taunted.
