'It's too quiet. I don't have a good feeling about this. I think we'd best turn around and go back.'
'I think we should too,' Gillian quickly agreed. 'We've been riding most of the afternoon, and we should have found Christen's cottage by now.'
'If we hurry, we can be home by sunset. Are you very disappointed? I know how much you want to see your sister again.'
'It's all right. I just want to get out of here. I feel like the forest is closing in on us.'
Their instincts were telling them to hurry, and both of them admitted that they had acted rashly by going into the wilderness barely armed and without an escort.
Because the path was so narrow and broken, they had to back their horses to a wider area so they could turn around. Then Gillian took the lead. She had just broken through the thicket and was crossing a stream when she heard a shout. Turning toward the sound, she saw a soldier riding hard down the slope toward them. Squinting against the sun, she recognized the MacPherson plaid, but she couldn't see the man's face.
Bridgid rode forward to flank her side. She put her hand above her eyes to block the sunlight, then cried out, 'It's Proster. He must have followed us.'
'What in heaven's name is he doing?' Gillian asked, as she watched the MacPherson soldier swing his bow up and reach for an arrow, his gaze intently locked on the trees behind them.
The ambush took them by complete surprise. Gillian heard a whistling noise behind her and turned just as an arrow sliced through the air in front of her face.
And then more arrows whizzed past. Gillian's horse bolted into a gallop, keeping pace with Bridgid's strong mare as they raced up the bank of the stream. Thinking they were easy targets together, Gillian veered her horse away from her friend, screaming to Bridgid to get to Proster.
There was a fleeting moment when she thought she was going to make it to the cover of the trees. She flattened herself against the gray, lifted her knees, and tucked her head low beside his mane to make herself less of a target. And that was when the arrow caught her.
The force and speed of the weapon were so great, the tip went through skin and muscle and into the saddle. The pain was instant. She cried out softly, and instinctively tried to push the white hot agony away, but when she touched the arrow, a pang shot down her leg, and it was only then that she realized she was skewered to the saddle.
She suddenly became enraged and was turning to get a look at her attackers just as Bridgid's scream pierced the air. Gillian spun around and saw Bridgid's horse stumble and fall, throwing her to the ground. And then suddenly the screaming stopped and Bridgid lay completely still.
'No,' Gillian shouted as she kicked her horse to get back to her friend.
Bridgid's arrows were strewn about the ground, and only then did Gillian remember she wasn't defenseless after all. She grabbed one of her arrows and swung her bow up. A man on horseback broke through the trees, racing to intercept her, but Proster rode toward her from the other direction, shouting at her to get away as he notched an arrow to his bow and took aim. A second later there was a bloodcurdling scream, and the man slumped to the ground, an arrow imbedded in his belly. He continued to howl, squirming like a snake in the dirt. And then the squirming stopped and the scream became a death rattle.
The other attacker rushed Gillian then. Proster notched another arrow. For the barest of seconds he hesitated as he recognized the man, but then he let the arrow go. His enemy threw himself flat against his horse, and Proster's arrow narrowly missed. Frantic, Proster searched for another arrow as the horse's thundering hooves galloped toward him. He flung the bow down and struggled to get his sword out of its sheath.
As the attacker closed the distance, his attention was on Proster, and Gillian seized the opportunity. She raised her bow, prayed for accuracy, and dispatched her arrow. Her aim was true. The arrow struck the man in the center of his forehead and flung him backward over his horse. He died instantly.
Gillian was panting with fear and then began to gag. She threw her bow to the ground and broke into sobs. God forgive her, she had just killed a man and had even begged for His help. She knew she had no choice. It was their lives or his, but the truth didn't ease her torment.
She took a deep breath and steadied herself. Now wasn't the time to fall apart, she told herself as she wiped the tears from her face. Bridgid was hurt and needed her.
Proster reached her friend first. He held Bridgid in his arms, but her head was slumped down and she wasn't moving. There was blood trickling from her forehead.
Even as she heard Bridgid groan, she cried out, 'Is she breathing?'
'Yes,' Proster answered. 'She struck her head on a stone, and it knocked the wind out of her.'
Bridgid groaned again and slowly opened her eyes. Gillian was so relieved, she began to cry. 'Thank God,' she whispered. 'You're all right, Bridgid? You didn't break anything?'
Dazed, it took her a moment to figure out what Gillian was asking, and then she answered. 'I think I'm all right,' she said as she put her hand to her forehead. Grimacing from the pain her touch triggered, she let her hand drop back to her lap and noticed then that it was covered with blood. Turning in his arms, she looked up at the soldier. 'Proster, did you save us, then?'
He smiled. 'It seems so.'
'You followed us.'
'Yes,' he admitted. 'I saw you crossing the meadow and I wondered where you were going. Then you turned to the north and I became more puzzled. I kept expecting you to come back, and when you didn't, I decided to go after you.'
'Thank God you did,' Gillian said.
'Who were they?' Gillian demanded. 'Did you recognize the men who attacked us?'
'Yes,' he answered, his voice grim now. 'Durston was one and Faudron was the other. They're both Sinclairs.'
'Faudron?' Bridgid cried out. 'But he's one of our laird's commanders.'
'He isn't any longer,' he said bluntly. 'Lady Gillian killed him.'
'Were there more than two?' Bridgid asked, and before he could answer her, she said, 'They could come back-'
'There were only two.'
'You're certain?' Bridgid asked. 'If there were more-'
'There weren't,' he insisted. He looked at Gillian when he added, 'It was an ambush, and you were their target, Lady Buchanan.'
'How could you know that?' Bridgid asked.
'The arrows were all aimed at her,' he answered patiently. 'Their goal was to kill you, milady,' he added. 'And if Bridgid had seen their faces, they would have killed her too. I'm sure they didn't think they would need more than two men to kill one woman. The element of surprise was on their side as well.'
'But why would they want to kill her?' Bridgid asked.
'Do you know why, milady?' Proster asked.
She didn't hesitate in answering. 'Yes, but I cannot speak of it without permission from Ramsey and Brodick.'
'This is my fault,' Bridgid said then. 'And I will tell my laird so. I shouldn't have-'
Gillian cut her off. 'No, it's my fault for taking matters into my own hands. Bridgid, you and Proster both could have been killed.' Her voice shook, and she took a deep breath to calm herself. She wanted to weep, for the pain in her thigh was burning intensely and she was becoming sick to her stomach.
Proster helped Bridgid stand, then swung up onto his horse's back. He was going to get Bridgid's mare, but Gillian whispered, 'I need help.'
'The danger's over now,' Bridgid said. 'Don't be afraid.'
Gillian shook her head. Proster noticed the arrow protruding from her saddle when he rode forward and, without thinking, reached over to pull the arrow out.
Gillian screamed. 'Don't touch it.'
And that was when he and Bridgid both noticed the blood dripping down her leg.
Bridgid was horrified. 'My God, you must be in terrible pain.'
'It's not so bad if I don't move, but I need help getting it out.'
Proster leapt from his horse and rushed to her side. Gently lifting her skirt away, he said, 'I can't see the tip.
