Page 10 of Beloved Enemy
Reid skirted around her, aware of her little yip of fright as he passed. He sprinted toward the man who was responsible for abandoning her, if not also for binding her hands.
He heard a sound on his left, easily recognizing the sound as Seumas’s thrusting grunt.
The man ahead of Reid glanced back, panic in his eyes as he realized Reid was closing in. The man attempted to dart to the side, out of reach, but Reid kept up with him. In one powerful swing, Reid's blade found its mark, slicing through the man’s side. The force of the blow spun the man around, his eyes wide with shock and pain. He staggered, losing his footing on the uneven ground, and fell backwards, his body crashing into a fallen tree trunk. He draped unnaturally over it, limbs splayed at odd angles, his lifeless eyes staring blankly into the canopy of leaves above. Blood seeped from the wound, pooling on the forest floor.
Reid stood over him, chest heaving, eyes scanning the surroundings for any further threats. Twenty feet to his left, Seumas sprinted further uphill, his sword reflecting bits of sunlight caught.
The sounds of snapping twigs and hasty footsteps, swords meeting mail, and ominous groans came to Reid. Somewhere higher, Eoin’s voice rang out. “Nae, ye canna get away.”
He heard what he thought was only one or two horses making an escape, or tramping 'round without a rider.
Assuming his men had the situation in hand, Reid turned, meaning to retrieve the woman.
“Son of a—”
She’d pulled herself to her feet and was running down the treed hill.
He gave chase again, his gaze sharp upon her as she darted and stumbled through the trees. Her figure was slight, and she was garbed oddly, he noticed now, clad in peculiar black breeches and a short tunic the color of red sandstone. Her balance was off, likely owing to her hands being bound in front of her, the tail of her hair bounced and swayed riotously at the back of her head.
With longer strides and a surer step, Reid caught up to her just as she reached the rocky plateau, exiting the shadowy veil of the trees.
“Halt!” He called, clamping a hand onto her arm.
She screamed at his touch and fought violently to shake him off, jerking her arm away. His grip was firm, though, and he dragged her to a stop, turning her around.
The woman continued to struggle against his hold, her face twisted in fear, mostly trying to keep her hands up, between them, cowering behind them.
Startled by the sight that greeted him, Reid released her arm and took a step back, lifting his hands to show he meant no harm, nearly aghast at the idea that he was possibly in more danger than she at the moment.
Her gaze jerked to the sword in his hand, which dripped with blood.
His pulse pounding, he stared with an open mouth at her, hardly able to make sense of her appearance.
Who—what!—was this woman?
Bonny, aye—remarkably so—despite everything about her that was...unsettling.
Wide eyes returned his stare, greener than the lush summer hills, filled with a mix of terror and defiance. Her face was framed by tangled strands of auburn hair that had escaped the odd style that resembled a horse’s tail. Streaks of ebony dripped from her eyes, as if her tears had been painted black. Her lipstrembled, lips that were bow-shaped and plump, and tinted to rival fresh bloomed roses, standing out starkly against her pale complexion.
Reid’s eyes traveled over her odd attire. She was petite and slender, as told by the strange braies she wore, black trews that clung to her legs as if wanting to be skin, made of a material unlike any he had ever seen. The trews left no question about her shape, defining the curve of her hip and the leanness of her thighs. Her upper body was covered in a baggy but soft tunic, bearing an image of an enraged creature that might have been a possum, a strange beast with a snarling face.
Draped over the front collar of her tunic hung a metal chain from which dangled an unusual amulet, the stone of which was unfamiliar to him, but which caught the light in a strange and disturbing way. The stone seemed to pulse with an inner glow—almost as if it were alive, he thought with a rare bent toward mystic fancy.
He stepped back further, his heart still racing, trying to comprehend this woman who seemed to have appeared from another world. Her hands were still raised defensively, shielding her as if expecting further assault, but Reid could see the raw fright and desperation in her eyes.
Forcing himself to speak in a mild tone to calm her fears, his voice was nevertheless rough because of his confusion. “Easy now, lass. I mean ye nae harm.”
Her eyes widened, and fresh tears gathered. “You...you justkilledthose men!” She accused frantically, her entire body shrinking with fear.
Jesu Christus!But her voice! Her bizarre English! So much like...Autumn’s.
He looked her over once more, taking in the entirety of her outlandish appearance before he returned his gaze to her striking green eyes. “A bluidy witch, ye are.”
***
This man was ten times—a hundred times!—more terrifying than any of those others who’d held her captive for almost an entire day.
And not only because she’d just watched him kill people—with a friggin’ sword!—but because he seemed to do it so effortlessly and didn’t seem troubled now by what he’d done. He was terrifying as well for his appearance, the size of him. His expression! Good God, but those were some cold hazel eyes.
