“Do not even consider making a sound,” said the familiar voice of a man she wished long since dead. The very man who’d assaulted her brother in the woods all those years ago. The very man who’d tormented so many Scotswomen, including her friends. As he continued to speak, ice slid into her veins and she started to tremble. “Or we’ll be forced to kill that precious hound.” He made a threatening noise at Milla who was crouched and growling now, her teeth bared.
Fiona sat up straight, turning on her knees to see the men behind her. There were at least a dozen of them, all surrounding Captain Boyd, the bastard who saw no problem in violating any being whether human or animal, but most especially women. The monster who was the reason she’d learned her skill with knives, the reason she always had one on her.
Fiona willed her trembling to cease.
Willed her mind to think, to plan.
Willed her stomach to stop its twisting before she vomited and showed him just how much he terrified her.
“What do ye want?” Fiona asked, slowly rising to her feet.
“Drop the knife.”
“Nay.” She shook her head, her grip tightening on the weapon.
He grinned. “I said drop the knife.”
She shook her head again, sweat beading beneath her arms.
“When I issue an order, it is to be obeyed,” Captain Boyd snapped.
“I’m no’ one of your men, and I’ll no’ drop a means of protecting myself.” She was surprised at how strong her voice sounded, given her insides felt like they were turning into mush.
“Then I’ll have to disarm you.” He stepped forward, and Milla snapped at him, which earned her a boot to the face.
Milla yelped in pain, and Fiona cried out, dropping to the dog instinctively, which only gave Boyd the upper hand. He was quick to take it, yanking her up by her hair. Fiona shrieked in anger as pain wrenched through her scalp.
“Why are you alone out here?” he demanded.
So he hadn’t found the camp yet? They must have come from the opposite direction. Well, she wasn’t going to tell him about it. Her life was only one; telling them of the men could mean eight lives lost, for they were outnumbered and Boyd was cruel. He’d not fight with honor, that much she knew to be true.
Sweat trickled down her spine, and she forced herself not to give in to fear.
Boyd, he could go to hell.
She stomped her heel down, landing on leather with a satisfying growl. But without her own boots on, the damage to his foot was minimal.
He laughed, pulling tighter on her hair as he sniffed her neck. “I’m going to have fun with you.”
“Nay, ye’re no’,” she said through gritted teeth, trying hard to ignore the pain. To be strong. To think.
She had to get out of this.
She had to keep the men safe.
“And then I’m going to let my men have fun with you too.”
“Never,” she hissed, kicking again. This time her heel landed against his shin. She jabbed with her elbow, catching his ribs, and despite the pain wrenched from his grasp in an effort to get away, but he only held tighter, his arm going around her neck.
“Lieutenant,” he said to one of his men, who came forward.
“Aye, Captain?”
“Show her what we do to fighting bitches.”
The lieutenant drew back his arm and punched her hard in the stomach.
Fiona cried out, but there was no sound, all the air gone from her lungs as pain filled her middle and she gasped for breath. Her knees buckled, but Boyd caught her by the hips, grinding his groin into her rear as she doubled over.
“Is this the way you like it, you naughty gal?” His voice was sugar and daggers, and she gagged, bile rising in her throat.
“Just…kill…me…” she managed to get out.
“Oh, no, no, no, we would not do that, not without having some fun first.”
* * *
Brogan stiffened where he’d been crouched, stacking wood into a makeshift fire. At first he’d heard growling, then a piercing howl of a dog in pain followed by the cry of a woman.
Fuck!
Fiona.
He leapt to his feet, Sorley and Fin cursing and joining him. The other men were still hunting. No telling where they were, or who they’d be facing or how many. They had to be careful not to let whoever was attacking Fiona hear them approach.
Weapons drawn, they hurried as silently as they could through the woods. He never should have let her go to the burn alone. Had argued with her against it. Bloody should have followed his own advice.
Heart pounding, blood rushing in his ears, they ran, but every step forward felt like another one back, and finally he saw a sea of red in the forest. At least a dozen dragoons, and at their feet, Fiona doubled over in the arms of their leader.
On the other side of the burn he caught movement—his men who’d gone hunting. They raised their bows, the dragoons not at all aware of what was happening. Milla glanced his way, her tail thumping from where she lay.
Dinna give us away. He willed the dog to hear his order.
Milla didn’t move. Thank the saints.
Brogan nodded to Sorley and Fin, and then stepped out of hiding. “If ye value your life, ye’ll take your bloody hands off her.”
The dragoon leader looked up sharply, the rest of his men who stood between them turning around, hands to their weapons.
“Oh, would ye look at that. A Highlander husband has come for ye.” The man laughed. “You’re sadly outnumbered, lad, but it was a valiant effort.”
Brogan whistled, and arrows sang toward them, felling four of the dragoons. “Another two rounds and your men will all be dead.”
The dragoons shouted in surprise and drew their swords, turning in a circle looking for the unseen enemy. Three of the men were dead instantly, and the fourth clutched at the arrow in his chest and let out garbled, pain-filled sounds.
The leader glared down in surprise at the men who’d been felled, his face blotched and purple. The bastard yanked Fiona up, holding her back tight to his chest. Pain was etched on her face, but anger too.
“Captain Boyd,” Sorley growled, giving a name to the vile dragoon captain.
Boyd yelled, “Attack,” and those remaining swung their broadswords and yanked their pistols from their holsters.
A volley of arrows sank into four more dragoons, but Brogan didn’t wait for the rest. He cut his way forward, dispatching two men, while Sorley and Fin took two more, one of whom had an arrow in his chest that didn’t seem to bother him at all.