Page 86 of Once Upon A Haunted Castle
She was no lass easily defeated.
Two of the men lunged toward her at once. She arched her sword through the air as her father had shown her and both their blows were blocked with a metallic ring.
Senara knelt and stabbed with the blade, catching one man in the thigh and swiping the other on the rump.
Truth be told, she hadn’t meant to hit him there, but it was the only flesh within reach. And if it came down to his injured bum or saving Norbert, well– she’d save Norbert.
The man howled in offense, rightly so, and drew back.
A shadow blotted out the summer sun behind Senara and chilled the warm day. Her skin prickled with the nearness of a new arrival.
Perhaps she ought to have feared him, attacked him even, but the open mouths of her assailants gave her a sense of comfort regarding the stranger.
The blond man had been moving toward her before the new person arrived, and his momentum continued to carry him toward her. Senara lifted her sword to halt his attack.
Her block was unnecessary.
A form moved in front of her with such fluid speed, she barely recognized it for a man. In the time it took to suck in her breath, the new arrival had her attacker on the ground with his sword arm jerking back to deliver a killing blow.
“Stop.” The word left Senara’s mouth before she’d even thought it.
The new man was taller than the four others, and shoulder-length black hair obscured his face. His clothes were fine and immaculate despite him being on the same dusty open road as she.
“Why should he live?” He kept his gaze fixed on his defeated foe as he spoke. “He attacked a defenseless woman with three other men. He’s a coward.”
Ire plucked at Senara. She tucked her dagger into her belt and approached him with her free hand cocked on her hip. “Defenseless, ye say?”
His gaze lifted toward her sword, and a smile flickered at the corner of his mouth. “Aye, well, armed then.” He pulled his blade from where it hovered threateningly at the blond man’s throat. “Off with the lot of ye or I’ll have ye hanged.”
By the time the defeated man had scrambled to his feet, his companions had already limped off.
The dark-haired man turned toward Senara. “Are ye hurt?”
“Nay, because I’m more than armed– I know what I’m doing.” Senara pushed her sword into its scabbard. The heavy weight of it fell against the side of her right thigh, reminding her of how many times she’d seen her da with it slung in exactly the same way. It made her feel invincible and powerful and…and horribly homesick for her family.
“Ye held them off well, I’ll give ye that,” the man said.
She turned her attention to Norbert rather than give in to the sudden tightness in her throat at the thought of her family and the familiar thatched home set back in the mountains. “I’ll have ye know I dinna need yer help.”
For his part, Norbert had been quite brave in how he’d stood staring at the men with his dark, soft eyes. She’d make sure to find something sweet for him later.
When the man didn’t speak again, she turned and found him watching her with his brow lifted.
He had rather nice brows, for a man. Not too arched like a lass, but not so flat as to make him low-browed and angry. Just enough of an arch to lend his deep brown eyes a look of sincerity.
Senara realized she was not only staring, but also had not properly thanked him for his aid– even if she hadn’t necessarily required it. “But thank ye for stopping– it was kind of ye.”
He nodded, his expression unchanged from that pensive, sincere stare of his. “I’ll help ye onto yer horse, so ye can be on yer way.” The rich timbre of his voice matched his gaze– even and deep.
And entirely pleasing, if she was being honest.
She waved away his offer. “Ach, no– I’ll walk.”
He didn’t reply and in the end, it was the stretch of silence which pressed the answer from her.
“Norbert has carried me the better part of the day and I’m no’ expected to arrive until nightfall.” She let her gaze skim the swells of deep purple and the sunlit fields.
The warm day had turned the scent of grass into something lush and sweet beneath the perfume of heather. A smile tugged at her lips. “This is the perfect sort of day to tarry, dinna ye think?”
