“We must make haste,” Maria said, joining Marsaili in her efforts.
“Aye,” Marsaili answered with a grunt, and together, they moved the guard into the brush and covered him with leaves.
Once they were finished, they made their way over the jagged rocks and weaved through the twining branches at a clipped pace. They didn’t talk, the only sound between them the unison of their breathing until a wolf’s howl filled the night, setting both women into an all-out run. By the time they reached the edge of the loch that surrounded the land her father’s castle was built on, her side pinched fiercely. Behind them, the howling had increased to a cacophony of lethal noise.
Marsaili motioned toward the dinghy. “Get in!”
Maria glanced from the secured dinghy to the woods. “The wolves are coming!” she cried. “We have to swim for it.”
Marsaili’s heartbeat exploded as she lunged for the rope tied to a tree stump at the water’s edge and began to sever the bind. “I kinnae swim,” she said. “Leave me if ye must.”
Within a breath, Maria was beside her sawing at the same spot. Just as the rope broke, the first wolf burst through the woods onto the crest of the hill, and then another, and another. The women pushed the dinghy, heaving, until it slid into the water. They scrambled in, took up the oars, and swiped them through the water furiously.
“Wolves can swim!” Maria cried.
“Aye,” Marsaili said grimly, putting all her strength and her will to live into rowing. Halfway across the water, the wolves howling grew louder, causing her pulse to increase to a dizzying speed. The women worked to put distance between themselves and the wolves, but Marsaili feared that even if they reached land first, the wolves would simply trail and overcome them. She glanced behind her to see where the wolves were, and as she did, an arrow flew across her vision and lodged into one of the beasts. Another arrow followed, and another.
Marsaili feared taking her attention off the wolves, but she had to know who had shot the arrow. She had no friends in these parts, save Maria. She faced forward, as Maria gasped, to find five men standing on the bank at the other side of the loch. She couldn’t see their faces, but one man gripped a wooden pole that had a piece of material flapping from it. It fluttered several times in the wind before she got a good look at the emblem. She sucked in a sharp breath. “God’s bones. It’s the Black Mercenaries…”
Maria paled, as tension pulled her mouth into a stern expression. As she continued to row, she spoke softly. “We go from an enemy baring their teeth and who would eat us alive, to an enemy with no morals and who will nae even blink at using us.”
Marsaili nodded. She knew about the Black Mercenaries. They lived in the woods, or so it was said. No one knew for certain, as the men seemed to appear like mist from the sky and disappear much the same way. One minute they were there, and the next they simply were gone. They had fought for King David in his quest to take control of Scotland ever since he had been released several years prior from being held prisoner in England, but some of the Mercenaries had also fought for the king’s enemies—the Steward and the King of England. They had no loyalty to a king. Their only loyalty was to coin. She had no notion why they might be near her father’s home, nor did she want to know, but she feared she and Maria were about to discover why, whether they wanted to or not.
In taut silence, Marsaili and Maria paddled the brief distance remaining to the shore. There was nowhere to run. They could not return to the woods, so they had to go forward toward the five men awaiting them on the shore. Before the dinghy even banked, a tall man, built like a solid tree with hair cropped so short that Marsaili could only see it because the blackness of it seemed to shimmer beneath the skin of his scalp, leaned over, gripped the front edge of the dinghy, and brought it to a shuddering stop. Gray eyes pierced her before shifting to do the same to Maria, and then the man seemed to hold the two of them in his gaze at once.
“Ye have just made my task much easier and my pockets much fuller.” He grinned, but it was mirthless and twisted with a downturn of contempt. Then his gaze, probing and cold, settled on Marsaili. “Ye have an enemy, Marsaili Campbell, and I’ve been paid generously to see ye punished for yer folly.”
Marsaili’s heart thumped viciously against her ribs. “I’ve many enemies,” she said, pleased her voice sounded so calm when a storm of fear raged inside her. “Ye’re going to have to be specific, Lord…?”
“Ye can call me Lucan,” he said, yanking the boat forward so hard that she fell backward into Maria. Before they could untangle themselves, Lucan snatched her dagger out of her hand and had Marsaili firm in his grip. A shorter man with limp red hair and a long hawkish nose did the same to Maria. Lucan lifted Marsaili off her feet, plopped her on the ground, and before she knew what was occurring, he was winding binds around her wrists. She looked over to see Maria receiving the same treatment. The other three men had already turned away and were walking through the woods toward horses that Marsaili could see tethered some distance away.
Marsaili yanked back on her wrists to no avail as the man had bound them so tightly the rope cut into her skin. Immediately, the blood seemed to gather at the site and pulse. If she was kept like this long, she feared she would lose the use of her hands. “Who—”
“Euphemia Stewart,” he answered before Marsaili even completed her question. “Seems ye and yer sister, Lena MacLean, made quite the enemy.”
Marsaili frowned, casting her thoughts back to when she had gone with Lena and her husband, Alex, to the Steward’s home. Marsaili had been desperate to find out where her son was, but the only way her father would tell her was if she discovered what castles the king had planned to raid and when. She’d barely spoken to Euphemia while she had been at the Steward’s home, though Marsaili had not been overly friendly when they had spoken. The only thing Marsaili could even think of that might have prompted Euphemia to desire revenge was Lena doing something to the woman and Euphemia striking out at Marsaili simply because she and Lena were sisters. It must have been a well-placed blow by Lena for Euphemia to send this Mercenary after her.
“I did nae do anything to that woman!” she shouted.
He snorted. “I dunnae care if ye did or nae. My concern is for the coin I’ll receive once I’ve done as she’s bid.”
“Ye’re despicable!” Marsaili snapped.
“Aye,” he said with a wink. “And if ye dunnae forget that, we will rub along just fine until I give ye away.”
Marsaili gasped, jerking back reflexively. “Give me away?”
“Aye. That’s the thing about crossing someone twisted like Euphemia. She will nae be satisfied just to have me kill ye. She wants ye to suffer for a long time.” He laughed, as if he had relayed something humorous. “Come,” he said, yanking her farther forward. “We have a tourney to attend, where I’ll be finding the perfect man to lose ye to.”
“Ye mean to wager me and purposely lose?”
“Aye, ye’re rather quick. And I’ll choose the most despicable man I can find, too.”
Marsaili shuddered. She glanced at Maria and back to Lucan. “Release Maria. Ye came for me, nae her.”
Lucan’s answer was to grab Marsaili by the waist and hoist her onto his horse. He then motioned for the warrior who was holding Maria to do the same thing. “I consider yer friend a gift, lovely lady, and I’m nae a man to reject such a thing.” With that, he tapped his horse’s flanks and set them on the way to trouble.
