Page 60 of Here in Your Arms
“Tiernan?” Rose questioned worriedly.
“Aye,” he said, breathless already from their short, swift flight from the rockslide.
An ambush—possibly by the same bandits he’d spent half of yesterday chasing through the northern hills.
And now they had him boxed in. The pass behind them was buried in rubble. He couldn't turn back. He couldn't risk stopping, not with Rose exposed and the way blocked. If he werecut down, it would be quick, but she would likely not be afforded so swift a death, he feared.
It was all the time he had to think. It was time to act.
He shifted the reins into his left hand, locking his arm firmly around Rose’s waist to keep her anchored against him. With his right hand, he drew his sword, the metal hissing as it scraped against the sheath.
“Hold tight, lass,” he growled. “Duck yer head—low.”
The destrier surged forward with a violent snort, its ears pinned flat, hooves pounding the earth in a thunderous rhythm. The massive war horse gathered speed in a heartbeat, muscles bunching beneath them as it hurtled straight toward the gap between the two mounted men.
The bastards didn’t move, but rather seemed shocked by his charge.
All the better.
At the last moment, Tiernan yanked the reins, veering sharply to the right, the destrier responding with stunning agility for its size. The bandit with the spear barely had time to register the change in direction before Tiernan was upon him.
Tiernan rose half in the stirrups and swung. His sword met the man’s chest with brutal force, slicing through leather, bone, and flesh in one clean strike. The spike fell from the bandit’s hands as he crumpled sideways in the saddle, blood spraying across Tiernan’s chest and thigh.
The destrier never broke stride. Tiernan had to wrench the blade free with a hard, jerking pull so as not to lose it to the dying man’s weight.
Rose gave a strangled cry as Tiernan plopped down against her back, as they galloped past the squealing horse and rider and the too-stunned-to-move, hatchet-wielding man.
The second man recovered quickly enough, though, and within seconds, the thunder of hooves began to rise behind them as he gave chase.
Tiernan didn’t look back, though he half expected the hatchet to come whistling through the air at any moment, burying itself between his shoulders. Just as he considered wheeling the destrier around to face the lone man behind them, movement caught his eye—two more riders descending the lower cliffside ahead.
The path widened here—thankfully—but not by much. And he wasn’t certain the destrier could outpace them, not if they reached the trail before he did. Their mounts—likely stolen—were lean and fast, meant for pursuit, not brute force.
Outrunning them might no longer be an option.
He would have to make a stand.
But not here, not with nowhere for Rose to go. He needed space—and cover. A place where she could run if she had to, somewhere he could meet their blades without risking her life further.
Tiernan leaned low over Rose as she’d made herself as small as possible in front of him. With a harsh word and a sharp squeeze of his knees, he urged the destrier once again. The great horse responded with a fresh burst of speed, its breath flaring hot and heavy as it thundered down the pass.
The two riders ahead shouted, but could not increase their speed, coming down the wet earth and jagged rock of the slope. He barreled past them just before they reached the narrowing trail, close enough to see the whites of their eyes.
They rushed on, the cliffs soon falling behind them, the narrow pass opening into a stretch of wild woods, dense and tangled with undergrowth and shadows. As soon as they cleared the last outcropping of rock, Tiernan veered hard to the right, yanking the reins and guiding the destrier off the main trail andinto the trees. Low branches clawed at them, whipping past in a blur, but he pushed deeper and deeper into the trees until they were swallowed by the forest.
Then he forced the horse to a stop in a small, sheltered hollow beneath a thicket of pine.
He dismounted fast, turning to Rose.
“Ride northeast,” he ordered, voice low but sharp. “Follow the sun. Go until ye reach open ground or water. If they dinna follow ye, circle back to the road and keep east to Dunmara.”
Rose blinked, stunned, still catching her breath, her face without a trace of color.
He pressed the reins into her hands. “Go, Rose.”
“I can’t,” she said, finally finding her voice. “I-I don’t know how to ride a horse.”
“Ye simply hang on and kick his sides,” Tiernan growled instruction, glancing behind him as the sound of hooves began to close in. He had a sudden vision of Rose being too inept on horseback to actually make a good escape, and of one of the approaching reivers neglecting Tiernan to focus on her.
