Highland Escape - Cathy MacRae Page 0,71

her bow, Anna stripped the saddlebags from Orion’s rump and slid them beneath the nearest wagon seat. She quickly drew her swords and kneed her horse forward, charging the oncoming attackers. Two more men met their death as she struck them down with a slash of her blades.

“Bluidy hell, woman, get back here!” Duncan bellowed from across the field.

Ignoring his command, Anna scanned the area for bowmen. Finding none, she wheeled Orion around and raced to the group now attacking the wagons. With a start, she recognized Alain leading the charge. It was his voice shouting orders! Though the attackers’ numbers were reduced, ten to their eight, Duncan was in no condition to fight. He barely remained upright, sword in hand as he fended off an attacker.

Dropping from Orion’s back, Anna flanked the enemy. She evened the odds by cutting down one of the two men engaging Liam. The bulk of the group crowded Iain and Malcolm, who still protected Duncan.

Sheathing a sword, she threw her knife, piercing the back of the man closest to Iain, leaving him two to deal with. She then cast her steel spikes into the next two men, wounding them, which allowed Ross the opportunity to finish one, Malcolm the other. Iain slew another. Anna redrew her sword and took her place at Duncan’s side.

“Alain!” Anna yelled.

He faced her. She’d forgotten how large he was, but things had changed. No longer an unarmed prisoner under his watch, she stood ready for the confrontation. Behind her, a high-pitched growl and yip told her Trean had slipped from his bag. She put him from her mind and considered the man before her.

He wielded a lochaber axe, the hook winking evilly at her from the end of the heavy blade. She sheathed her swords and swiftly uncoiled her rope dart. With his longer weapon, she could not let him get too close. As she began her dance, Alain’s sneering contempt changed to confusion. He made ready to charge, but stuttered, hesitating at the distracting buzz of the red cloth cutting through the air as she brought the swinging blade close to him.

She wrapped the line around her shoulders and arms, shortening its reach, and he restarted his charge. With a sharp jerk, she propelled the dart forward, embedding it deep in his thigh. Yanking hard on the rope, she dislodged the blade, sending him staggering. She swung the dart around, back and forth. The last two surviving men in his company fled, leaving him behind. Alain growled.

“Why, Alain? Why have you attacked?” she demanded.

He spat on the ground. “Because MacGregor chose an English bitch over the loyalty of a clansman!”

“Ye great fool, she was a guest at our table, under my father’s protection!” Duncan snarled. Iain and Malcolm advanced. A volley of yips burst through the tableau.

“No! He is mine!” Anna shouted. The men halted, hands flexing on their weapons. She gave her attention to the oaf before her. “That does not explain it all, Alain. You had a score of men with you. This is larger than your petty vengeance against MacGregor. I heard you cry out I am worth more alive than dead. To whom?”

He limped toward her, blood flowing freely from the wound in his leg. He tracked the red flag as it hummed its unceasing path through the air. “Ye will find out soon enough. Though I may not live to see ye to yer new home and husband, I have nae doubt others will be sent to finish the task.”

Anna kicked the blade toward his heart, a killing blow. Not quick enough to deflect it with his heavy axe, Alain moved to avoid her weapon. Her blade missed its mark, opening a gash on his upper arm. Twirling and wrapping the rope around her, she kept him at bay, shooting the blade out unpredictably. Within a few moments, he stopped advancing. Bleeding from a multitude of wounds, he seemed to no longer possess the strength to charge. Holding his axe in front of him with both hands, Alain struggled to evade her weapon.

She launched her dart toward him, centerline. As expected, he deflected it with the handle of his axe. Quickly spinning the handle, he trapped her rope between his long axe head and handle. Another two turns secured her weapon to his axe. Anna allowed herself to be pulled toward him.

Using the momentum he provided, she spun around and drew her swords. He dropped his now-tangled axe, drawing a long bladed dirk.