Page 4 of Kilty as Sin
The landscape in this part of the Highlands was rocky and inhospitable, with its constant mist and distant roaring of waterfalls and troublesome surprise-attack bogs.
So. No trees. No vines. Did that bush look like it could hold her weight?
Grace stretched her back and forced herself to exhale slowly. Aright. She could do this.Calm. She needed her heart to slow, and her mind to focus.
There was no one after her for now. She could do this.
Holding her breath, she leaned to one side, feeling her knee pop as her other foot was shoved deeper into the muck. Her fingers stretched as far as possible—stretched—stretched—
“Shite.”
Her hands dropped and she straightened with a defeated sigh. Had her wrists not been bound, sheknewshe’d be able to reach that bush with her left hand. ‘Twas just her inconvenient right arm—stupid shoulder!—which was holding it back.
Aright. So. She’d need to find a way to cut the bindings around her wrists, and then she could—
“Hello.”
Grace shrieked at the surprising voice and spun about, simultaneously wrenching her ankle, knee, and hip while pulling a muscle in her neck.
“Shite!Ow,” she murmured, staring wide-eyed.
The pain faded as she took in the sight of the warrior, and fear spiked up her throat once more.
He wore the King’s colors, and a massive sword hung from his belt. His arms were crossed in front of his chest, and he leaned a hip against a boulder, his stance announcing his complete ease with the situation.
None of that should be terrifying.
‘Twas the full-face helmet he wore which made it difficult for Grace to draw in a full breath.
Every child in the Highlands and the Lowlands combined knew of the King’s Hunters. No mercenaries these warriors; they did the monarch’s bidding, and only his. A sort of royal law enforcement combined with bounty hunters, they were feared—and respected—across Scotland.
And this man was wearing the helmet of one. It obscured his features, and she couldn’t read him.
Grace’s bound hands rose to her mouth as she stared at the man. Hunters were rumored to wear their helmetseverywhere. She’d heard that once they put them on, they weren’t allowed to remove them in the presence of another human. It leant to their terrifying reputation.
Except…
Had this Hunter come to help her? Was it possible Sister Mary Titania had sent him after Grace?
Washisthe voice she’d heard calling after her to run?
Had he…saved her?
“Are ye hurt, lass?”
This was uncomfortable, twisting in this position, but Grace frowned. “Why?”
And she couldhearthe amusement in his tone when he said, “Because ye cursed and saidow. People usually dinnae sayowunless they’re hurt.”
There was something about the way he was completely at ease—and the smile in his voice—which made her bristle. “Mayhap I was just stating sounds. Mayhap I was calling for someone namedow.Mayhapowis my name!”
Without pushing himself away from the boulder, the Hunter inclined his head. “Well, Mistress Shite-Ow, are ye otherwise hurt? Did those men harm ye?”
Grace’s jaw hardened. So, hehadseen her escape? Had he helped?
“I’m—I’m fine.” She wasn’t fine. She didn’t think she’d ever forget the way the leader of the group of men—men her father had sent!—had touched her. But she wasn’t going to admit that to the Hunter.
“Really? Ye dinnae look fine. Ye look stuck in a bog.”
