Page 76 of Wicked Highland Wishes
Had there truly been a time when Bridgette had foolishly thought she could escape her captors? Groggily, she tried to sift through her memories, but it was like slogging along a steep, narrow footpath after a week of rain. Her thoughts kept slipping from her, much like her feet would often slip on the muddy terrain of the hills that led to the waterfalls near her home.
She could not say how long they’d been riding this second day or how far they were from Arthorn Castle because she had not slept, and the need to sleep now was screaming at her. But she feared shutting her eyes. It seemed to her that if she dared to submit to the need, something terrible would happen. Not that she was in any position to do anything else with her hands still tied.
Marion eyed her sympathetically. “Close your eyes.”
Bridgette shook her head. There had to be something she could do. Anything would be better than going quietly like a lamb to be slaughtered. As a steep cliff rose to her right and the sound of a waterfall up ahead whispered in her ears, an idea came to her. If she could get Colin to stop and all dismount, and she could somehow get him to the ledge, perchance she could push him over and then she and Marion could overcome Atholl.
“Please, will ye nae stop to allow me to relieve myself,” she asked, struggling for a beseeching voice.
Colin grinned at her. “Aye, since ye asked me so nicely.”
Bridgette suppressed a relieved sigh. The way men were often led by their desires instead of their brains was proving to be a good thing this day.
Colin and Atholl stopped the horses and helped Bridgette and Marion down. While dismounting, Bridgette caught Marion’s gaze, widened her eyes, and jerked her head toward the ledge, trying to communicate her plan. Marion frowned in response. Bridgette did it again, and Marion still frowned, but suddenly she screamed and doubled over in pain. Bridgette was unsure whether Marion’s pain was real or not, but as Atholl turned to Marion and Colin stepped around Bridgette toward the edge of the cliff to get to Marion, Bridgette took advantage of the moment and rammed her body as hard as she could into Colin.
Shock swept his features as his arms flailed, and he fell backward over the cliff with a roar. Bridgette’s own foot slipped, and as her heart jumped to her throat, and she waved her arms in terror, Atholl grasped her.
“God’s bones!” he yelled. “What happened?” He yanked her forward and then scooted around her to look down at where Colin had fallen. “Colin!”
Bridgette’s heart jumped. Was Colin not dead, then? She wasted no time but stepped forward with her bound hands in front of her to shove Atholl over, as well, but he surprised a yelp out of her as he rounded toward her and lunged at her, crashing them both to the ground. Her head hit a rock, and specks of bright light danced in her eyes.
“Ye wee devilish lass,” he snarled. “Colin told me that ye’re treacherous.” As he raised his dagger—whether to kill her or knock her out, she did not know—she screamed. Then Marion appeared over him, rock in her hands—which had been unbound earlier that morning after their captors determined she wasn’t a threat—and slammed it into Atholl’s head. Two hits later, the man fell off Bridgette and into a deep forced sleep.
Marion gaped down, her horror quite obvious on her face. “Do you think I killed him?”
Bridgette scrambled to her feet. “I certainly hope so!” She nudged Marion into action. “Untie me!” she cried out, fearful that Colin would reach them before they could escape, if he was already starting back toward them.
The minute Marion released Bridgette from her binds, she said, “Come! We must away. I dunnae ken how close we are to Arthorn and the enemy, nor do I ken if Colin is dead.”
Marion nodded, but instead of mounting the horse Bridgette indicated, she grasped Bridgette and hugged her fiercely. “I was so scared!”
“Aye,” Bridgette agreed. “As was I. Now come!”
They quickly mounted the horses, and once they had carefully turned them back the way they had come, they started down the incline. Toward the bottom, Bridgette’s horse began to dance around as if spooked, and it was then that Bridgette realized her mistake. She’d pushed Colin over the ledge so he was already down here! Chills covered Bridgette’s arms, and a terrible feeling gripped her.
Bridgette grasped the reins tightly, and as she did, Colin appeared from around the corner, blood seeping from a gash on his forehead and rage twisting his face. He threw his dagger before she could react, but it did not hit her as she expected. It flew past the horse’s face, causing the horse to startle and throw her to the ground.
She hit hard, smacking her head against a rock, and by the time she found her feet, Colin was there and grasped her firmly to him. “I did nae give ye enough due,” he snarled in her ear.
“Make haste, Marion!” Bridgette screamed, looking around and slumping in relief when she realized Marion had fled. Yet a moment later, Marion reappeared with her horse, charging straight at Colin. With Bridgette in tow, instead of moving out of Marion’s way, the man raised an arm and yelled a command at the horse. The destrier reared back and Marion flew off, landing on her back.
Bridgette broke free of Colin to scramble to Marion, who lay motionless with her eyes shut. “Marion!” she cried out, but Marion did not answer. Grim faced, Colin silently grabbed Bridgette, snatched her up, and set her hard against the ground as he started to bind her ankles. She struggled against him, yet it was like fighting a furious storm—utterly pointless. When she was trussed, he slung her over the horse, and much to Bridgette’s relief, he took great care with Marion, settling her gently on his horse.
Colin quickly disposed of Atholl’s body in the loch. Bridgette supposed he did not want to leave any traces for Lachlan and whoever else may be pursuing them. When he was finished, Colin tied the reins of the horses together and then lead them away. He whacked Bridgette on her bottom with stinging force. “That was very foolish, Bridgette,” he chided in a voice that caused a ripple of fear to course down her spine. “Ye will learn verra soon that I am now yer lord.”
