“Get the hell off me,” she said through clenched teeth. “Ye think ye’ll not be shot the moment one of my men steps through the door?”
Archie was pulling himself up from the floor, confusion and pain in his face.
“Not before I kill ye,” Toran ground out.
“Then we’d both be dead.”
“What the bloody hell are ye doing?” Archie growled. “Ye broke my rib, ye bloody bastard.”
“Saving your life! The wench had a knife at your throat.”
What Toran didn’t realize was that he was about to have a knife at his. She slowly reached for the blade in her boot. But Toran felt her move and slapped his hand over hers, his touch branding her calf. Before she could make another attempt or even protest, three thunks sounded on the side wall followed by two more.
“’Tis a warning,” she whispered.
All three of them silenced, listening, and then she could hear it. The sounds of horses, the chinks of the bridles. Men marching.
“Dragoons,” she hissed. “Ye’ve brought them to our verra door. I’m going to kill ye.”
“We didna, I swear it.” She actually believed Archie when he said the words, but Toran… He only looked like he wanted to kill her too.
“If ye dinna get off me, I will no’ be able to be rid of them, and as much as I’d like to toss your arse out there, I’d never willingly give up anyone to the redcoats, even if they are my enemy.”
Toran’s face contorted, a look of accusation on his face, but all he said was “How can ye get rid of them?”
“Ye’ll have to trust me.”
Toran still hesitated until, with his good arm, Archie tugged at the back of his shirt. “Let her up. She’s no’ the enemy.”
Toran did slowly pull himself off her then, and she rose, resisting the urge to punch him in the mouth.
“Dinna move,” she warned.
Her guards would have continued about their duties outside as if nothing was happening, as they had been trained. But the closer the sounds of marching men drew, the harder her heart pounded.
Jenny shoved the dagger back into her sleeve, eyeing Toran suspiciously, but he stood cautiously to the side. “Ye’d better not get us all killed,” she muttered, lifting an easily donned gown from a hook. She tossed it over her head and tied the belt into place. The gown was a simple and plain working dress, not at all the fashion, all the better to help her remain unnoticed. She picked up a basket, tucking the pistol underneath a layer of cloth.
“What do ye expect to do with that?” Toran waved his hand toward the basket.
“Save your wastrel life. Stay here.” Why was she even bothering? Toran would have slit her throat if the bloody dragoons hadn’t happened upon them.
It wasn’t just his miserable life she was saving but all of their lives.
Heart pounding, Jenny stepped outside and called to John about a chicken for the stew. As practiced, he called back that he’d get one ready for her, and she headed to the garden to pick a few herbs. Mac would be hidden somewhere from view but readying a crossbow to silently take out any attackers, should she give the signal.
The dragoons were well within sight now, and though she felt like running, she remained where she was. Archie and Toran weren’t the only men recovering or hiding inside the croft, and she wouldn’t leave her men to suffer at the hands of the English. Down on her knees, she snatched at herbs and carrots and anything else she could grab and shove into her basket until the cloth was covered, concealing any lumps her weapon left behind.
“Ho, there, wench.”
Jenny bristled, leaning back on her heels. She held her hands to her eyes to shield them from a sun that was not at all impairing her vision.
She acted startled, as if she’d not seen them coming or expected them to stop, then stood slowly with her basket in hand.
“Good morn, sirs, can I help ye?” She tried to keep her voice as cordial as possible but not so friendly as to raise suspicions.
“What are ye doing?”
“Picking herbs.” She cocked her head as if that were obvious. “For stew.”
“We’re looking for two men. They’ve escaped the garrison. Very dangerous.”
“Oh,” she gasped. Feigning fear, she allowed her hands to shake slightly as she raised one of them to her chest.
The leader of this pack of wolves shifted his horse forward several steps.