Chapter 21

A nna stared at him. "What?" she said incredulously. "They're going to kidnap Aislinn? You can't be serious!"

The very idea was like something out of some twisted gangster movie. She knew things were different in this time, but snatching fair maidens and riding off with them? That was something out of a bad novel. Surely?

But one look at Emeric's expression told her he was deadly serious. She swallowed thickly. "Um. You're not kidding, are you?"

"I wish I was," he said, his voice low as he stared out at the Murray stronghold. "Clan warfare is as old as the Scottish hills, and alliances forged by marriage are one more weapon to wield. The MacDonalds had expected the Mackintosh marriage alliance to be made with them. Instead, they see us as allying with the Murrays. They willnae let that stand."

"So what do we do? Ride to Dun Carrick to warn the Murrays?"

He shook his head. "If we do that, the Murrays will march on the MacDonalds and there will be bloodshed before we know it. No, we have to warn my uncle. He can then deny the MacDonalds access to this valley. The MacDonalds wouldnae dare march their forces through here if it is fortified against them. It's a place where a small force could hold off a much larger one indefinitely. Their casualties would be catastrophic." He looked at her. "We ride for Dun Achmore."

He pulled the horse around and they began picking their way back the way they'd come at a canter, through the broken landscape of gullies and ravines. Anna struggled to put everything together. When she woke up this morning, she'd not expected the day to turn out this way. Strange how things can change from elation to fear in such a short space of time.

This morning she'd been walking on air. After what had happened between her and Emeric last night, she'd been elated, full of joy and hope and excitement. Even now, when she thought back to last night, those feelings rose up in her. Emeric's strong arms holding her, his soft murmurs in her ear. The warmth of his body...

Yet it already felt far away. Now a deep, pervading worry gnawed inside her. Those undercurrents she'd sensed between the Highland families were fast developing into rapids that would wash them all away if they weren't careful. She hadn't found Emeric only to lose him now.

As if sensing her thoughts, he kissed the back of her head. "All will be well, lass," he said. "Ye will see."

"Told you we should have stayed at that inn," she muttered.

He grunted but didn't answer. His eyes were trained on their path, an aura of grim determination surrounding him. He was every inch a fearsome Highland warrior now, bearing little resemblance to the man who'd been making her laugh only hours before.

They'd gone perhaps two or three miles when Plover suddenly snorted loudly and skidded to a halt, breaking the tension-filled silence with a shock that made Anna startle. The horse pawed at the ground restlessly, his head jerking as his ears flattened.

Emeric was instantly alert. "What is it, boy?" he murmured to Plover, his eyes scanning the terrain.

Anna strained her eyes too, but could see nothing out of the ordinary. The same rough crags that had surrounded them for miles, the same knotted shrubbery breaching through the crevices in the rocks.

And yet something felt different.

"Ambush!" Emeric hissed suddenly, his grip around her waist tightening.

Then she heard it. A coarse, chilling laugh echoing through the ravines. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. She clutched onto Emeric as he tightened his hold on her.

From behind the sharp rocks and the entangled vegetation, shadowy figures materialized—men carrying weapons. They looked shabby and unkempt and were wearing the same plaid that Brodie and his family had worn at the games. Murrays, then. Anna reckoned there had to be at least ten, if not more.

One of the Murrays stepped forward, a large, muscled brute with a cruel sneer etched onto his face. He wore a hardened leather battle dress, adorned with Murray plaid, and bore a hefty claymore in his hands.

"Well, well," he said. His voice was rough and gravelly, as though he'd suffered damage to his voice box at some time in the past. "Looks like we've snagged us a Mackintosh. Ye need to pay the toll if ye want to pass."

Emeric's lips pulled back from his teeth in a snarl. "This is Mackintosh land," he growled. "And ye are trespassing."

"Are we?" the man said, his eyes widening in surprise. "Oh, I didnae realize. In that case, we'll just be on our way."

His men sniggered. Anna licked her lips, looking fearfully around. They were surrounded.

"Get out of our way," Emeric said, his voice colder than Anna had ever heard it. "And I might let ye keep yer miserable lives."

The brute laughed a humorless, cruel laugh. "Bold words," he sneered, slowly starting to circle around Emeric and Anna. "But ye are outnumbered, Mackintosh. Just pay the toll and we'll let ye pass. Yer horse and yer woman should do it."

Emeric's grip on the reins tightened until his knuckles turned white. Anna could feel the tension radiating from him as he turned Plover to follow the man's movement, keeping him always in sight.

"Touch her," Emeric growled. "And I will kill ye."

The man's laughter boomed across the ravine, echoing off the stony walls and filling the silence. "Is that a threat, Mackintosh?"

Emeric held the man's gaze with a calm severity. "A promise. "

A tense silence descended. The man studied Emeric closely, no hint of amusement in his gaze now. The other men watched their leader carefully, their hands gripping their weapons.

The big man stepped back. Waving a hand dismissively, he said to his men, "Take her."

Everything seemed to happen at once. The Murray ruffians sprang forward like starving wolves. Emeric roared, a primal sound that echoed through the ravine like the roar of a bear. He grabbed his bow from where it hung from the saddle. It was shorter than the longbow he'd used in the games, designed for hunting from horseback rather than long-range shots, but in Emeric's hands, it was no less devastating. His first shot took a man through the throat, his second thudded into an unprotected chest, his third pierced the meat of a man's arm, causing him to drop his weapon and scream in agony.

"Hold on, Anna," Emeric hissed urgently into her ear.

He booted Plover hard. The horse's muscles bulged beneath them and he sprang forward, bursting through the ring of men and sending dust and rocks flying up behind. His hooves pounded a thunderous rhythm against the rocky ground as he ran, echoing the terrified thumping of Anna's heart. She clung on desperately as they careened through the ravine in a mad dash that had her hair whipping out behind her and tears squeezing from the corners of her eyes.

Behind them, enraged howls echoed through the ravine as the Murrays realized too late that they had underestimated Emeric Mackintosh.

But Emeric had also underestimated the enemy .

Up ahead, warriors who had remained hidden during the confrontation suddenly spilled across the path, these ones mounted, blocking their escape.

Plover screamed and reared, his legs pawing the air. Anna screamed too as she lost her grip on the saddle. Then suddenly the ground was rushing up to meet her, and she landed with a thump, the breath whooshing out of her lungs.

Emeric dragged her to her feet, his anxious face looming close. "Are ye all right?"

She nodded. "I...I think so."

"Stay behind me."

The Murray bandits were bearing down on them. There was no sign of Plover, and Anna guessed the frightened horse had run off in the melee. Emeric had managed to keep hold of his bow and quiver and now he calmly nocked an arrow, lifted the bow and fired, knocking a man clean out of his saddle. He drew and fired, drew and fired, and three more men fell before his onslaught. But there were still so many of them and Emeric's arrows wouldn't last forever.

Anna looked around for something she could use as a weapon but found nothing. Damnation. She was terrified, but furious too. Her eyes alighted on a pile of rubble. It was littered with shards of slate and palm-sized rocks. If she could throw an ax, she could bloody well throw a rock!

Darting over to the rubble, she grabbed a rock and hurled it at a man who was sneaking up on Emeric's left. It missed, but the second one caught him in the shoulder, making him grunt, and Emeric spun and sent an arrow into his chest .

Emeric gave Anna a grin of acknowledgement and she continued to fling her crude missiles. Her rocks did little damage, but served to distract their attackers just enough for Emeric to take them down.

But his arrows were running out. Two more arrows. One. Then none.

Emeric tossed aside his bow. With a howl of rage, he sprang forward, closing the gap between himself and the nearest rider. The man raised his sword, Anna screamed, and Emeric leapt, slamming into him and sending him crashing from the saddle.

"Get the horse!" Emeric screamed at Anna. "Get away! Now!"

"Not a chance! I'm not leaving you!"

Without stopping to think, she hurled herself at the man Emeric was grappling with, landing a kick between his legs that sent him crashing to his knees.

"What are ye doing?" Emeric cried. "Ride, damn it!"

"We're both getting out of here! Come on!"

She seized the reins of the riderless horse, its eyes wide and rolling in the melee. Then a heavy hand clamped onto her shoulder and she whirled, seeing a man looming over her, face twisted into a snarl, teeth bared. She screamed, pounding at his chest with her fists, but he merely laughed and tightened his grip on her shoulder.

Then he suddenly stumbled, a thick arrow protruding from his chest, and he crashed to the ground at her feet. Anna looked over her shoulder and met Emeric's gaze. He held another man's bow now, his chest heaving.

"Ride," he yelled over the din of battle. " I'll follow!"

Anna grabbed at the hanging reins. The horse snorted and tried to pull away, but she held on with a grip that made her knuckles white. "Easy," she breathed, attempting to calm the beast.

She reached for the saddle, fingers scraping against the rough leather, but the world suddenly spun around her as something slammed into the back of her head. She went sprawling onto the dusty ground, biting back a cry as pain bloomed in her head.

Emeric's panicked shout pierced through the haze of her shock. Rolling over, Anna managed to struggle back onto her knees. Dust and debris clung to her face, gritty against her skin.

"Want to go riding, eh?" said a voice, and she looked up to see the thug's leader standing over her. "Well, that can be arranged."

He wrapped his grimy fingers around her wrist, yanking her up.

"No!" She tried to wrench free, but his grip was made of iron. "Emeric!" she screamed, even as he slapped a rough hand over her mouth, silencing her cries.

Emeric surged towards her, but three men blocked his way, swinging at him with fists and swords. Emeric ducked and swung, using only fists now, desperately trying to fight his way free.

The leader scooped her up, ignoring her punches and kicks and howls of protest, hoisting her onto the horse. Her captor's gruff laughter filled her ears as he secured her to the saddle. The ropes bit into her flesh, but she barely noticed the pain as she looked desperately for Emeric, barely visible in the melee.

"We've got what we came for," the leader shouted. "Let's go! Three of ye stay behind and finish Mackintosh off."

"No!" Emeric howled, throwing a punch that sent a man staggering away. "Get away from her!"

A whining sound filled the air and an arrow suddenly punched through Emeric's hand, sending blood splattering. He collapsed onto his knees with a howl and the men surged around him, pinning his shoulders.

"I love ye, Anna!" he shouted. "I'll find ye! I promise I'll find ye!"

She opened her mouth to shout a reply, but the horse jerked into motion and suddenly they were galloping away, only the ropes keeping her in the saddle as she desperately twisted, trying to keep him in view.

"Emeric!"

But she was already too far away for him to hear her. Her shout echoed off the gully walls, but there was no reply.

EMERIC WATCHED ANNA disappear into the distance and he felt like his heart was being torn out of his chest. Fear, the like of which he'd never known turned his insides to ice.

"Who are ye?" he demanded of his captors. "Where are they taking her? If she is hurt, I swear I'll—"

A blow caught him across the face and snapped his head to one side.

"Ye are in no position to make threats, Mackintosh," one of the men growled .

Emeric spat blood into the dirt and glared up at the man. "Aren't I?" he said, his voice an animal-like snarl. "Why dinna ye let me up and we'll see about that."

Two men were holding him down, their grips like iron on his shoulders and arms. They'd forced him to kneel in the dirt and he wasn't such a fool that he didn't know what was coming. The arrow that had taken him through the hand was still lodged there, a dull, burning pain spreading from it all the way up his arm.

Where had these people come from? Why would Murray brigands be hiding out in this desolate place? There was nothing for them here. No travelers to rob. No merchant caravans to attack. No livestock to steal. It made no sense.

The man who'd spoken smiled down at him, a cruel, predator's smile. Emeric had met plenty of men like him before, men who enjoyed inflicting pain on others because it made them feel big when they usually felt so small.

"While I would like nothing more than to kick yer arse from here to Edinburgh, I have my orders, Mackintosh." The man drew his sword, a huge claymore that he raised two-handed over his shoulder. "And in recognition of the decent fight ye put up, I'll even make this quick."

Emeric bowed his head. The men's grip on him was too strong to break, he was weaponless. What could he do? Better to get it over with. His shoulders slumped and in response to his seeming defeat, he felt the men's grip on him relax just a fraction.

It was all he needed.

With a roar, he threw all his strength into his legs and surged to his feet, throwing off his captors. He ripped the arrow from his hand in a shower of gore and blood and then stabbed it into the swordsman's neck.

The man's eyes went wide and blood erupted from his mouth. As he crashed to his knees, scrabbling at the arrow jutting from below his ear, Emeric snatched the claymore, swung it one-handed, caved in the head of one of his captors and ran the second through before either of them had time to draw their own weapons. It was over in seconds.

Emeric stood panting in the midst of the dust and blood, grimacing as he clamped his good hand over his wounded one. The pain was blinding, but he would not allow it to hinder him.

He fell to his knees next to the man with the arrow in his neck. "Where are they taking her?" he demanded.

The man coughed, blood flecking his lips, his life seeping away as he struggled for breath. "I'll... I'll send ye to hell," he gasped out.

"Hardly. Ye are dying," Emeric said flatly in a voice that was neither compassionate nor cruel. "But it doesnae have to be painful. I can end yer misery quickly, but ye will tell me where they are taking Anna first."

The man gurgled a laugh, blood trickling from his lips as he smiled his predator's smile—though there was nothing left to prey upon now. His eyes were glassy and unfocused. He wasn't going to last long.

"Ye have no idea who ye are dealing with," he gasped. "She will destroy ye."

"She? Who is she?"

The man's glazed eyes seemed to clear slightly and a cold smirk played on his bloodstained lips. "She'll have yer heart on a platter. Ye are finished, Mackintosh." His head lolled back against the dirt, his last breath escaping him in a long wheeze.

Emeric stared at the lifeless body as frustration boiled through him. He stumbled up, his hand gripping the hilt of the stolen claymore all too tightly, his gaze drifting towards the vast expanse of wilderness that spread out before him. A harsh wind swept across the desolate land, howling in his ears and whipping up a small tornado of dust.

Things were rapidly spinning out of his control. He had to get Anna back. Nothing else mattered. Despite the urgency roaring through him, he forced himself to think. He needed help and there was only one place he was likely to get it.

He tore a strip of linen from his shirt and used it to bind his injured hand, then raised his fingers to his lips, giving a shrill whistle. The sound echoed off the gullies and canyons like the cry of a wounded bird.

Minutes passed. Emeric heard nothing but the thumping of his own heart until finally, in the distance, hoofbeats. Moments later, Plover came trotting into view, his head hanging as though ashamed of bolting during the battle. As Plover trotted over and lowered his head to sniff his injured hand, Emeric clung to him, relief almost making his legs buckle.

He grabbed a fistful of mane and commanded the gelding to stand whilst he dragged himself painfully into the saddle—a task that jarred his wounded hand and sent white pain exploding in his head .

"Home," he murmured to Plover, kicking his heels against the beast's flanks. "Take me home."

ANNA HAD NO IDEA WHERE they were going, although it was clear her captors had a destination in mind. They'd woven through the broken land of gullies and ravines as though they knew the terrain and had emerged into a gentler land of upland meadows that housed herds of shaggy livestock and sheep.

She glanced over her shoulder. It must be the hundredth time she'd done this since she'd been abducted. Each time, she both hoped and dreaded that she would see Emeric riding to catch up. Hoped because she was terrified, dreaded because she knew that if he came after her he wouldn't stand a chance alone against this many, despite the destruction he'd scythed through them back at the ravine.

She closed her eyes, tears leaking from beneath her eyelids.

Where are you, Emeric ? she thought. I hope you're all right. Please be all right. Please God, let him be all right.

Those last words he'd spoken echoed through her head. I love ye. I'll come for ye.

She clung to them, playing them over and over in her mind. Those words were the only thing keeping her together, the only thing stopping her from losing it completely.

"I love you too," she whispered to the breeze. She only wished she'd said it to Emeric himself.

Without warning, the man leading her horse pulled up sharply. Anna looked up from her daze to realize that a sprawling settlement lay ahead, cloaking a hill that rose in the distance. A loch glittered at the base of the hill and she could see fishing boats bobbing on its surface. Thatch and timber houses—lots of them—clung to the shores of the loch and then climbed up the hill to either side of a wide road that led to the gates of an imposing keep at the hill's summit.

It was far bigger than Dun Achmore and appeared far more prosperous, with colorful pennants snapping in the wind and the glint of steel flashing every now and then from the battlements.

"What is this place?" she demanded of her captors.

They didn't answer but merely nudged their horses into motion again, riding quickly along the road and up the hill to the gates of the keep. They were waved through by guards and emerged into a vast open area that looked big enough to hold a parade.

The man leading her horse pulled to a halt. He dismounted, untied her, and dragged her from the saddle. She winced as pain shot through her wrists and ankles where the ropes had bitten cruelly into her flesh. But she welcomed the pain, for it beat back her numbing fear for a while.

She almost collapsed to her knees when her feet hit the ground, but the man caught her and hauled her upright. Without ceremony, they dragged her to the steps of the keep, where three people were waiting for them.

Anna's eyes widened. "You!" she gasped in recognition.

"Hello, Anna," said Lady Maria.