“Not another step!” Fergus shouted, and he pushed the knife deeper into Lydia’s throat. She couldn’t help it—she yelped at the prick of pain, and Brodie froze.
“Release the lass and I willna kill you,” Brodie called out.
“No!” Fergus snapped. “Ye killed my brother!”
Brodie retrieved the pistol he had dropped and calmly began to reload it in the clearing. “You wish to join him?” His movements were slow and eerily calm as his gaze moved between them and the pistol as he worked to reload it.
Fergus took another few steps into the woods, keeping her in front of him. After a tense minute of her and Fergus watching Brodie, he faced them again.
“Let her go, man. Or I’ll put a bullet between your eyes.” He calmly raised the pistol level with their faces.
“You’d better let me go. He’s a crack shot.” Lydia honestly had no clue how good of a shot Brodie was. Likely he was good, but she did not wish to test that by risking her own life.
“All right!” Fergus hollered. “I’m letting her go.” He released his hold and pulled his knife away from her throat. Lydia took a few tentative steps forward before she was sure she was free. She dashed toward Brodie, who opened his arms, and she leapt into them without a thought. He swept her up and spun her behind him, putting himself between her and Fergus. She clutched Brodie with relief, but when she glanced over her shoulder, she saw Fergus running toward Brodie, his dagger raised.
Without thinking, Lydia shoved Brodie out of the way. Fergus crashed into her, and she felt a blinding pain in her left arm.
Brodie stabbed his blade into the other man, sinking it deep into Fergus’s chest. The man stumbled, caught the blade, and pulled it out. The look of surprise on his face lasted a few seconds before he fell to his knees and collapsed.
Lydia stared down at the knife wound on her arm.
“Are you hurt?” Brodie saw the bloody gash on her upper arm.
She raised her eyes to his and tried not to gasp with the pain.
“Christ, hold still, lass. You’re bleeding.” He pulled a handkerchief from his coat and lifted her arm.
Lydia gasped as he pulled the fabric of her sleeve away.
“I’m sorry. I wish you didna have to feel that, but there’s no time for gentleness.” He examined the wound and then wrapped a handkerchief around her arm. “Hold that tight.” He knelt at her feet and lifted her skirts. She was in too much pain and shock to question what he was doing. He cut part of her petticoat off and used it to wrap around the handkerchief and cinch it tight.
“That should do for now, but we need to find a doctor.” He glanced at her body. “Can you walk? I have a horse waiting. It isna far.”
“Yes.” She gladly followed him when he offered her a hand, placing her good hand in his outstretched one.
By the time they reached the horse hidden a good distance away, her legs were trembling and she was beginning to stumble. Brodie caught her just before she collapsed in his arms.
“Hold on to me, lass.”
“I’m so—sorry.” She buried her face against his chest as tears flowed down her face.
“You have nothing to apologize for, lass, you hear?” He brushed a kiss to her hair and then against her forehead. “It is I who should apologize. I shouldna have let you go off alone, modesty or no. I kept telling you how beautiful Scotland is, lass. But I forgot to remind you that it’s dangerous.” He held her for a long moment in the thicket, until she found her panicked breathing had eased.
“Now, can you ride?” he asked.
“Yes, I think so.”
“Good.” He grasped her by the waist and lifted her onto the horse’s back before climbing on behind her.
“Sorry there’s no saddle. Lean back against me. You can rest while we ride.”
She leaned back as he suggested and started to close her eyes. “How far are we from the coach?”
“Quite far, lass, but we aren’t going that way. Those men meant to trade you at an inn farther up the road. I dinna know how far away it is. Rafe wanted to come with me, but I feared I wouldna find you in the dark and might be too late. So I sent him to the inn with the coach to pay your ransom if I couldna catch up to you first.”