Chapter 7

7

Attacked On The Road Home

" S tay in the carriage. Stay hidden."

Dakota’s eyes widened as she glanced around her husband to see the bandits approaching. With a trembling hand, she pointed her finger. William turned and drew his sword, ready to defend. Dakota’s heart pounded in her chest as everything slowed down around her. She pushed back to the other side of the carriage as the rumblings of metal crashing against metal filled her ears.

"Nay," she gasped as William disappeared into the fray. She lunged for the window. Unsure of what she could do to help, she knew she was no match for the brutes surrounding them. Dakota’s body trembled with fear as men raced to and fro.

Maybe I can flee to my faither’s house. Tis nae that far away. Nay, I’ll never make the distance. They’ll capture me before I can make it. Oh, Lord, I’m goin’ to die here, arenae I? I’ve left my father’s house, only to die.

Slowly, Dakota inched to the window and reached for the carriage door. A small voice in the back of her mind begged her to stay. Although she wanted to do as her husband commanded, she wondered if it were feasible. After all, the walls of the carriage grew closer and seemed to trap her within its confinements.

Poking her head out the window, she glanced around, seeking a path to escape the chaos. The carriage shook and jolted a bit as the sounds of distress filled her ears. Dakota had never seen such violence before, not when she was within her father’s walls. Her heart fluttered from the terror.

Three men circled her husband. She watched in awe how he moved to defend and strike. To her left, William’s men fought bravely, clashing against the hordes mounted on their spot. There was no escaping the madness, no path for her to slip through unnoticed.

"What’s this?"

Dakota jolted away from the window the second she spied a grisly man peering at her through the crowd. Her heart dropped into her stomach as she scoured the interior of the carriage for a crude weapon, yet came up empty-handed .

The door of the carriage pulled open and slammed against the wooden frame. Dakota’s blood ran cold at the sight of the strange man with a hooked nose. A long, silver scar raced down his face making him far more sinister than any nightmare she’d ever had.

"Nay, get away from me," Dakota screamed, kicking with all her might. Her heel landed hard against the brute’s arm as he flayed about, trying to grab hold of her. She knew if he grabbed her, she was doomed, for William was far too occupied with the other men to pay any attention to her.

The man laughed and grunted as she kicked him away. His thick, dirty fingers curled around her ankle and jerked her out of the corner of the carriage. Dakota pursed her lips into a tight line, drew back her hand, and raked her nails down the man’s face.

"Get yer hands off me," she screamed as she thrashed and struggled against him.

"Ye’ll nae deter me from gettin’ what I want," he sneered as he drew her closer . Before Dakota knew it, she was pulled out of the carriage and landed hard on the black soil.

The sound of the men battling around her was overwhelming as she hunted for a rock or a stick. The man’s laughter taunted her. She knew it was a sound she’d surely never be able to forget.

"Yer mine, lassie," he growled as he grabbed her by her arm and pulled her to her feet. Dakota watched as his breath hung in the air between them. The temperature had dropped considerably due to the night falling, yet she knew it was not the temperature that had her trembling.

"Bet ye never had a man like me before, and I guarantee I’m certainly one ye’ll never forget," the man pulled at her sleeve, his lips parted and ready to claim her—his breath was reeking.

Dakota turned and tried to run, but the man was too strong and kept his hand clamped on her sleeve. She pulled with all her might, hoping that the dress would tear at the seam and she would be set free, but it was too well made.

He tugged on the fabric one more time, spinning her around. She thrashed and shoved her fists on his chest and face, but it did no good. Her blows were nothing but gnats irritating him further.

"I like my women feisty."

"Daenae touch me," she demanded as the rain fell from the heavens.

The man grinned a toothy grin and advanced on her. The coach was behind her, the man in front—she had nowhere to go. The fighting raged around them still, and she could not tell if the Laird was winning—she wanted nothing more than to be in his embrace.

The brute shoved her backward into the carriage, and bits of the broken wood ram into her back. She clamped her mouth shut, refusing to scream or give him the satisfaction of showing she was afraid of what came next.

He advanced on her, licking his lips. Dakota’s eyes shifted to the canopy of the trees, trying not to focus on the horrors before her. He reached out to grab her, and when she saw his bare forearm, she did the only thing she could think of.

Dakota grabbed his arm, and he was surprised that she had dared touch him. Without hesitating, she chomped down hard. The taste of dirt and rust filled her mouth, and the ogre stumbled back and glared at her with malice and murder burning through his eyes.

"Ye bit me," he growled, checking the damage she had caused.

It was a small victory, that much she could be proud of, but she knew it wasn’t enough to get him to stop. He drew his hand and slapped her.

His blow was hard and caused little bursts of light to fill her vision. The loud ringing in her ears drowned out all other sounds. Dakota tried to keep her wits about her as the world swayed around her. She’d never been struck so hard in all her life and was surprised that she wasn’t knocked out cold.

The brute waited for her to regain her senses. "Are ye goin' to see reason now? Or are ye goin' to do somethin' else stupid?" The ire in his gaze was far more menacing than the blow he had given her.

"I was just goin’ to have me way wit’ ye, but now," the man continued, "now, I’ll nae just take ye, I’ll kill ye as well."

Dakota tried to move out of his way and flee, but her foot skidded on the wet soil. She tumbled to the ground, landing in a pool of muck and mud. No matter how hard she tried to get traction to flee, her feet couldn’t find solid ground.

A sinister smirk pulled at the corners of the man’s lips as he towered over her. His kilt flapped against his knees. In the back of her mind, she wondered what had become of her husband. If he’d be the last thing she saw. Her heart pounded frantically as she tried to escape with all her might .

Her heels slipped in the mud, making standing far more difficult . All she could do was scramble away from him. Her only hope was to try and wedge herself under the carriage. At least then, she’d have a moment to think about what to do next.

"I would have spared yer life," William’s voice broke through the chaos and turmoil. She glanced over her shoulder to find her husband’s face emerging through the shadows of the night like a phantom over the brute’s shoulder. "But now ye’ll join yer friends in hell."

The man let out a blood-curdling scream that shook Dakota to her core. His hands dropped from her waist, giving her enough leverage to scurry to the safety under the carriage. All she could see were the sets of legs rushing about the carriage. The clashing of the swords filled the space around her and she cupped her hands over her ears to muffle the sounds.

She closed her eyes tightly and rocked. The splatter of mud struck her face and she dared not look at who had fallen.

"Nay, let me be," she cried as fingers curled over her shoulders. She turned her head and bit the fingers. The second they were gone, she scrambled to the axle and held onto it for dear life, refusing to be pried away.

"Tis all right, it’s me, Dakota," a familiar voice said. Dakota turned and held her breath, uncertain of what she would see. "Come out of there."

William’s voice was cold, and ire laced each syllable. She took a deep breath and spotted her husband’s footman kneeling with a hand stretched out to her. Forcing down her fear, she inched closer and slipped out from under the carriage.

"Look for yerself, wife," William said as Dakota noticed her attacker on his knees with his hands over his head. "I will nae have ye fear him any longer."

"Do it," the brute growled.

"Ye could have had our gold. Ye may even have had our horses and left us desolate in the wilderness. But ye laid yer hands on what is mine and for that…" William said as he drew his sword back. Dakota turned her head and squeezed her eyes shut tight, refusing to watch. A thud echoed in her ears, and when she pried her eyes open, her attacker was face down in the mud.

"Yer safe now." Dakota glanced at William’s footman. She didn’t know what to say or do. All she knew was the night was full of terrors she wished she had not seen.

Slowly she drew her eyes to William. Blood splattered his face and mingled with the rainwater flowing down his cheeks. His hair was disheveled, and his clothes tattered. She couldn’t help but be both terrified of the man before her and in awe of him.

He had saved her. Despite all that had transpired between them, she knew she owed her life to him.