Page 94 of The Iron Earl

Why had she been so stupid as to smack the horse away? She could have mounted it before Molson had a chance and rammed past the highwaymen.

Mercy. She would have to beg for mercy.

The two cloaked men in front of her stepped forward, the one on the left casually wiping his bloody blade on the dark cloak that fell down to his knees. The one on the right lifted his head slightly, the grey hood about his face letting light into the shadow of it.

Or she would have to kiss them. Each and every one of them.

Lachlan’s eyes locked with hers.

The blue streaks in his hazel irises were stormy, palpitating with rage. Rage mixed with something even more visceral—relief.

The air was blasted out of her chest in the next instant as Molson’s arm brutally clamped around her waist and yanked her off her feet.

He set her to his side, the tip of his blade pressing into the hollow above her collarbone, trapping her in place.

“Don’t you dare move, Evalyn,” he hissed as his look skittered back and forth from one end of the bridge to the other.

Evalyn looked to the other side of the bridge. The cloaked figures had dropped their hoods. Rory. Finley. Her look swiveled back to Lachlan. He pushed his hood back, as did the man next to him. Domnall.

Her heart swelled, her chest expanded, and it sent the tip of Molson’s knife digging into her skin.

They were here—here for her—but she was trapped.

“Dunhaven. I should’ve known.” Molson scoffed a chuckle. “The baron said he’d take care of you, but I should’ve known the old man was worthless.”

“Step away from my wife, Molson.”

Molson’s feet shuffled, his stance widening as a sneer carved into his face, sparking the air around him.

He looked at Lachlan. “I underestimated you, Dunhaven. I estimated your brother, right. But not you.”

“What do you know of my brother?” Lachlan took a step forward with his arms at his sides, though the tip of his dirk flashed under the shadow of his cloak.

Molson snorted. “That he wanted to be a hero more than anything and I got to watch it be the death of him.”

Lachlan stilled, his voice sinking to a deadly chill. “You were there?”

“I gave the order to burn down the buildings.”

“Bloody devil.”

“You look like your brother.” A chortle snaked from Molson’s lips. “I watched the fool die. Watched him run into that cottage. He thought he was a hero, but it turned out he was just a buffoon and he died for his idiocy.”

“Lach—”

Molson jerked her, cutting her words and shifting her further away from Lachlan.

Blast it.She closed her eyes, expecting Lachlan to jump, to stupidly charge forth in anger at Molson’s bait.

Nothing. Silence.

Silence and she was trapped. Trapped and the only way out was through Molson’s blade. Her breathing went rapid, fear that she couldn’t control flooding her veins.

Not now. Not now.

She couldn’t be trapped.

She opened her eyes to find deadly fury had overtaken Lachlan’s face. But he still stood at a distance.

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