Highland Savage. Hannah Howell

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      Lucas cursed as one of the men behind him managed to get close enough to score his lower back with his sword. He saved himself from a more dangerous wound, but only barely. There was some comfort to be found in the fact that he had bloodied his foes, but Lucas could not ignore the fact that he, too, was bloodied. That he was still alive proved how much of his old skill he had recovered, but it was not enough.

      Even as he knocked the sword from the man’s hand Lucas suddenly realized that the pounding he had heard was not in his heart or his head. The man he had just disarmed had halted abruptly in rushing to retrieve his weapon, his eyes widening as he stared at something behind Lucas and his face turning parchment white. The men flanking him looked the same. Even as Lucas strove to keep a close watch on the men surrounding him, he looked in the direction they all did and gaped.

      Seven horsemen were galloping straight toward them, their horses large and holding steady. One male rode slightly in the lead, the others in a neat line right behind him. Lucas watched that straight line slowly curve around and realized they moved to encircle his attackers and cut off their escape. The only hesitation in that awe-inspiring maneuver was when one of the horsemen smoothly leaned down and caught up the pack Lucas had dropped. The leader never wavered, but continued on in a straight line, one that led straight for him.

      For a moment it was as if time itself had slowed to a crawl. Lucas saw his enemies react to this attack as if they moved through thick mud. He saw everything clearly, from the fact that the rider headed for him was a lot smaller than the rest to the eerie sight of their black cloaks flowing out behind them and the dark blue cloth that covered most of their faces. It was all a beautifully graceful yet utterly terrifying sight. Then his enemies started to try to flee and Lucas’s ears were assaulted by the sound of swords clashing.

      Lucas was also looking for a route of escape when he realized the lead horseman had slowed. The huge black gelding the man rode reared to a halt at his side and the rider held out a surprisingly small gauntleted hand. It appeared he was about to be rescued, Lucas thought.

      “Get on ere one of these cowards realizes I am a verra easy target here,” snapped the rider.

      Despite the way the rider’s voice was muffled by the cloth wrapped around his face, Lucas felt a twinge of recognition. He tried to see the rider’s eyes but the hood of the black cloak shadowed all of the face not masked by that blue cloth. Grabbing the rider’s extended forearm, Lucas used the hold to help swing himself up into the saddle behind the man. A soft grunt escaped the man and the struggle he had to stay in the saddle was obvious, but Lucas was impressed by the strength of what he now assumed was little more than a boy.

      “My horse…” Lucas began.

      “Will be weel cared for,” the rider replied even as he kicked the horse into a gallop.

      Lucas wrapped his arms around the waist of his rescuer and hung on. His rescuer was astonishingly slender. He frowned for there was something tantalizingly familiar about the youth. Even the scent of the slim rider teased at his memories. It left him with a puzzle he hoped would soon be solved.

      For one brief moment Lucas feared he had escaped one danger and blindly stumbled into another. He quickly shook aside his suspicions. If these people meant him any harm they only needed to have left him where he was. Why they had exerted themselves to rescue him he did not know, but he suspected that, too, would be made clear once they got to wherever they were headed. And, mayhap, he had just found some allies in his quest for revenge. He had not wanted his family entangled in his search for vengeance, but, since these people seemed to be the enemies of his enemies, he saw no reason not to either join with them or seek their aid.

      Katerina tried to concentrate on riding safely through the trees in the fading light of day’s end. Fixing all of her attention on that chore was the only way she could control the maelstrom of emotions tearing through her. If she faltered in that rigid discipline she knew she would halt so that she could reassure herself that it was truly Lucas who was seated behind her, and that indulgence could put them all in danger. She had no doubt that Ranald and their men were already chasing them.

      When she had seen Lucas standing there fighting for his life, she had nearly screamed out her joy. Fortunately good sense had prevailed. Ranald might now know that Lucas had survived, but the man still thought that she was dead. That deception was vital to any chance she had of winning this war with Agnes.

      A strong thread of disbelief still twisted itself around her mind and heart. It was difficult to believe that Lucas had survived the vicious beating he had suffered and being thrown into the loch. She knew his leg had been broken, so how had he saved himself from drowning? Yet her eyes told her that it was indeed Lucas Murray she had just yanked out of Ranald’s deadly grasp. Everything from the sound of his voice to the feel of his body pressed close to hers as they rode told her that it was him.

      One question kept pounding in her mind even as she and her men scattered, only William continuing to ride with her, giving their pursuers half a dozen trails to try and follow. Why had Lucas not tried to find her, to at least let her know that he was alive? From the brief look she had gotten of the man he had obviously needed a long time to heal, but that only explained why he had not returned to Dunlochan. It did not explain why he had left her to grieve for him as he must have known she would. The possible answers to that question, which slipped so insidiously into her mind, were chilling and she quickly shook them away. Lucas knew her, knew her very well. He could not possibly believe she had had anything to do with the attack upon him.

      Seeing Old Ian up ahead, Katerina quickly reined to a halt and dismounted. She resisted the urge to help Lucas when she noticed the slight awkwardness in his dismount. Turning her whole attention to Old Ian, she handed him the reins to her horse, William swiftly doing the same.

      “I heard the mon had returned,” said Old Ian after studying Lucas closely for a moment.

      “Aye, and gave Ranald yet another chance to kill him,” said Katerina and then she grimaced. “’Tis why we had need of ye tonight. I hope we didnae pull ye away from your meal.”

      “My woman will keep it warm for me. Get ye gone now ere those swine catch sight of ye.”

      Seeing that William had already begun to brush away their trail with a leafy branch, Katerina nodded. “As soon as the pursuit has ended someone will come to fetch these beasties.”

      “Nay trouble. I have feed enough. Godspeed.”

      “And to ye, too.”

      Even as Old Ian led the horses away William followed, brushing away the trail left behind them. Knowing he would catch up to her, Katerina silently waved to Lucas to follow her and began to jog toward the old kirk that had become one of her hiding places for far too long. Only once did she chance a look at Lucas to make certain he had no trouble in following her. There was an odd hitch to his gait but he moved quickly and showed no signs of pain. They would be able to savor their reunion later.