Page 85 of Once Upon A Haunted Castle
A Ghostly Tale of Forbidden Love
Madeline Martin
Chapter One
Banff, Scotland June 1604
Senara had neverfought against four men at once, but she wasn’t about to back down from the challenge.
“Give us the horse and we’ll leave ye be.” The taller of the men gripped her fingers where she held Norbert’s reins. His hand was as large as both of hers combined.
Norbert huffed out a breath of warm air, as if he found the idea preposterous. For indeed it was. She’d no sooner give up her horse than she would her father’s sword.
Her parents had been generous to gift her with both prior to her departure. She’d rather die than lose either.
“I’ll be damned if I give ye anything.” Senara swept a dagger from her waist and drew the razor-sharp tip over the man’s thumb.
He loosed a curse and jerked his hand back. “The cat’s got claws, lads.” The look he gave the others was not one of caution, but of malice.
Of foul intent.
Senara glanced at the swells of purple heather surrounding the trail and at the heavy green trees beyond. It did not appear there were more men.
Four men would not be impossible.
She edged in front of Norbert.
“That’s quite a blade ye got there, lass.” A man with a tangle of blond hair grinned at the first man. “Did she stick ye with her poker?”
The other two laughed.
Senara slid free her father’s sword from the leather scabbard. The steel glinted in the afternoon sun, embodied with all the strength and bravery of her father.
“Does she even know how to use it?” the blond asked.
Senara didn’t answer.
They would see.
The man with the injured hand– nay, the injured pride– charged at her. Senara stepped aside from his clumsy attack.
The others laughed.
The tall man’s face went red. This time he pulled out his own sword– a terribly large thing he had to hold with two hands.
Her heart skittered against her ribs, but she tamped down the swell of fear. She’d done mock fights with her father and brother many times.
Norbert, she reminded herself. She was doing this to save her sweet Norbert.
The tall man swung his blade down toward her head. She crossed her sword and dagger against one another and stopped the lethal blow. The clang of metal was almost deafening, and the vibrations carried up her arms and near rattled her back teeth.
She shoved the man’s blade from her and lashed out with her own sword. He moved to block her assault, which was exactly what she’d wanted.
In a deft move, she attacked with the dagger, plunging it into his side. She pulled the blade free and a warm wash of blood gushed out over her hand.
Surprise showed on the man’s face. He staggered back with a hand to the wound.
Though not a mortal hit, it was a warning.
