Page 9 of Awoken
“It’s a prize we have here,” the outlaw called out to his companions as he advanced toward Leanna. He leered at her, the sword he held gleaming dark with blood. “I’m having her first, lads.”
Terror sliced through Leanna, ice-cold and paralyzing. She never knew fear could be like this, so utterly immobilizing. For a heartbeat she merely stared at the outlaw, freezing like a frightened fawn—and then she remembered Mother Shona’s advice when she’d been showing the novice nuns how to fend off a man with their hands.
Let them come to ye. Many men don’t believe a small woman can do them harm. Wait for them to get close, and then strike.
The outlaw reached out a meaty arm, grabbing for her, and Leanna slashed at him with the dirk. She’d held the weapon against her skirts, concealed. He hadn’t seen it.
The blade cut into his forearm, and the man bellowed, reeling back as if he’d just discovered an adder sleeping in the grass.
“Whore!” he snarled. Blood poured down his arm, but he appeared not to notice. Instead, there was a murderous glint in his eye. “Ye are going to regret that.”
Leanna scrambled back, her pulse thundering in her ears. Her defense had been clumsy. She should have gone for somewhere more vulnerable than his arm, but her nerves had gotten the better of her.
A wave of dizziness rose once more, surging like a spring tide, and black spots suddenly appeared in Leanna’s field of vision. He was going to hurt her, and there was nothing she could do about it.
But instead of lunging at her, the outlaw gasped, his big body going rigid. And then, as Leanna watched with horrified fascination, he keeled over.
Someone had saved her—had one of Evan’s men survived the attack?
However, she didn’t recognize the man standing behind him.
As the outlaw fell, the stranger withdrew the dirk blade he’d shoved under his ribs.
Tall, dark-haired, and with chiseled good-looks, Leanna’s savior straightened up and met her eye. And then, to her surprise, his mouth curved into an arrogant smile. “Looks like we arrived just in time, eh … Lady Leanna?”
4
We Mean Ye No Harm
LEANNA SWALLOWED HARD. “SisterLeanna … but how do ye know my name?”
The newcomer’s smile widened, but he didn’t answer her. Instead, he glanced right, his gaze narrowing. “Are we done here, Carr?”
“Aye.” A broad, heavily muscled man with short blond hair emerged from the bushes. He carried a dirk—its blade dripping with blood. “They’re all dead.”
“How many of them?”
“Six.”
Leanna’s savior’s smile widened. “Two against six … we haven’t lost our touch, I see.”
The man’s companion snorted. “We had some assistance … it appears this lass isn’t completely helpless. His attention then shifted to where Leanna still crouched on the ground a few yards away. “Is Lady Leanna hurt?”
“I don’t think so.” The dark-haired warrior replied, his gaze returning to Leanna. “She’s quick with a knife. I’ll grant her that.”
The man named Carr frowned.
A tense silence fell in the clearing. Around them lay the bodies of the four men who’d accompanied Leanna south. And now that Leanna could divert her attention from the big auburn-haired man who’d attacked her, she spied the corpses of some of the outlaws around the fringes of the glade.
“Who are ye?” Leanna finally managed. Still clenching her dirk in a death grip, she rose to her feet.
The dark-haired man’s smile faded. “Just travelers, milady.”
“But how do ye know my name?”
“Ye were traveling south with a MacDonald escort … most folk in these parts know that MacDonald of Sleat’s eldest daughter is a nun.”
Leanna’s gaze narrowed, and she took a step back. “Do they?”
