Authors: Christine Young
Aaron’s instincts kept whispering that this woman was somehow different from women like Sarah and Anna, unfeeling women who cared nothing about anyone save themselves and the fortune and titles that could be gained from marrying into the right families. At the same time, he had no doubt Lainie MacPherson could kill a man.
"You should take heed," Aaron said softly, ignoring the other man who had now slipped quietly out the door.
"Remove your hand.
sir
," she told him indignantly.
Aaron shrugged, outwardly indifferent, his fingers settling once more on the hilt of his sword, ever wary of the girl and her next move.
The tavern’s hush changed into a humming of male voices as people left their drinks and focused on the pair standing so close to the door where unbeknownst to them an unspoken challenge had just been issued by both parties.
The stakes revolved around a woman named Lainie MacPherson and release from the commission he’d bought so many years ago he couldn’t remember. As for the bounty, Aaron Slade didn’t care a damn about it.
Aaron was certain he would end up the winner in this cat-and-mouse game. Besides the obvious, he wondered how the woman with trembling mouth and steady blue eyes had ended up on a wanted list issued by King Henry himself and standing in one of Scotland’s most infamous taverns. So intrigued by her he would move heaven and earth to learn her story.
"I know what you handed over to your companion," Aaron said with a bit of impatience, trying not to give away his purpose before it was necessary.
"I don’t know what you mean," she said softly with a sardonic smile gracing her intriguing mouth.
"You stole something that was mine. I mean to get it back. You need to remember that England rules this land--all of it." He inhaled deeply the soft scent of her that seemed to be hers alone. It seemed to possess all his senses.
Her shoulders stiffened as her gaze raked over him. "I’m Scottish, and loyal to James," she said, her voice wavering. "Henry doesn’t rule me or my kin."
"Slade," Jericho said, stepping forward, "what’s--"
The wolfish smile Aaron gave Jericho stopped him cold in his tracks.
"Who’s the girl?" Jericho asked pointedly. "You the sharin’ kind, Slade?"
"No one of interest," Aaron said smoothly lying to Jericho.
Aaron moved in front of Lainie, blocking the men from seeing her face and her hair. He didn’t know if they’d recognize her but something Rory had said earlier made him think Rory at least had met her. Given a choice, he would have taken her by the arm and escorted her away from these two cutthroats. Now he didn’t have a choice. He would have to let her go and hope he could catch up to her.
Lainie could melt into the forest if given a chance. She knew these lands better than most. And her companions were sure to be waiting for her a safe distance from the tavern. If her friend wasn’t waiting for her, where would she go? A sudden and unmistakable sickening feeling swept through him. Fear for this slip of a woman clouded his judgment.
~ * ~
Lainie had let too much time pass. She had a pact with her companion thieves. Once the package was delivered, no one waited. She was on her own. Now she had nowhere to go, no money to pay her way, her stomach growling from hunger. Most of all, a desire for vengeance burned in her blood like acid. Bertram had raped her, terrified her for months, until every shadow she saw she thought was him.
Above all else, she longed for revenge.
So she had joined this group of Highlanders with the sole purpose of haunting Bertram’s nights and stealing his soul, sending it straight to the devil. Her own safety no longer mattered. Indeed, it had ceased to matter that long ago day in the forest. Now she needed someone to stand between her and shield her identity from Jericho and Rory. She couldn’t risk Rory recognizing her.
Praying the green-eyed stranger was as deadly as she suspected he was, Lainie inhaled a long deep breath and opened the door. The night wind whistled threw the opening, an owl cried out, and a full moon filled the courtyard with light.
Jericho and Rory watched her from the slight distance separating them. Her horse was tethered fifty feet from the entrance. She had to keep her emotions calm and in check. The small dirk lashed to her thigh wasn’t going to be much protection against the stronger men and their swords if they discovered all she’d stolen from them in the name of the poor Scottish peasants who had suffered at their hands.
It has to work, Lainie thought desperately. Just once the innocent have to win out over the cruel and depraved injustice of the English.
Lainie ignored the green-eyed stranger. A man with those devilish looks would have been disturbing under any condition much less when a girl’s life depended on her instincts and quick reactions. He posed a threat she couldn’t comprehend.
Two steps outside. She drew her cape closer, warding off the chill of the night. She kept walking, deciding not to look back. All senses were tuned in to the inside of the tavern. She heard everything, the shuffling of feet and the cursing of the man named Rory.
She heard the whisper of words from the dark stranger. "It’s dangerous out at night. Where is your protector?" He asked as he followed her.
His hand rested on her elbow. The touch was light, yet she sensed the control, knew if he wished it, he could stop her. She knew then he had his own agenda for her. A chill swept down her spine.
Without a word, she turned. His cold gaze met hers and sent a warning through her. She wasn’t surprised when Rory let out a cry.
"Say, Aaron, where do you think you’re going with the girl? We got business to discuss. You can play with her later. Bring her back," Rory said.
The stranger was quick. Not a flicker of emotion showed on his face as he stared at her a second longer before he turned to speak to Rory. Yet he never let go of her.
"We’ve finished our business," he said, a deadly ring to his tone.
Dear God, let the man be as dangerous as he is handsome, she prayed again. Let him be as twisted and demonic as Rory and Jericho. When their swords clash, she didn’t want his death on her conscience.
Rory’s death however was different. She’d gladly see him skewered through. Lainie had no scruples about that. Anyone who could stand by and watch the rape of a woman, taking delight in the pain and suffering, deserved whatever horrible death he met with. Aye, he deserved a much more painful death than he was likely to get from a sword.
"Let go of my arm, sir. We have no business and I intend to be on my way. You are lying about me. I have stolen nothing from you." Lainie spoke in a hushed whisper.
"My purse is stolen. It’s the lass," Rory cried out. "Stop her."
Aaron gave her an odd look. He let go of her arm and turned to face the open door and the tavern. He stepped forward. In seconds, he was inside near the table where he had been sitting.
Lainie followed, although she wasn't sure why. She should have been running for her life.
Rory went for his sword. Jericho was much faster than Rory, but it didn’t matter.
Aaron Slade moved with stunning speed. Before Jericho could draw his sword, Aaron had upended the table and slammed it into the other men with his left hand. With his other hand, he drew his sword.
Lainie stood frozen to the spot, not even a whisper of air went through her.
Jericho had known immediately he was no match for Aaron. Hands held away from his sides, he watched Aaron with reptilian intensity.
Rory was neither as bright nor as quick as his friend was. He believed he could out fight Aaron. Rory died before he understood his mistake.
As the abrupt clash of swords faded in the room, a man called Bear stepped behind Aaron. She watched, horrified, as Bear drew his sword to kill Aaron.
Lainie had no time to think. She pulled her dirk free of her boot. No longer transfixed by the mesmerizing scene she raced forward, jammed the knife in the middle of the big man’s back and pushed with all the strength she could find. Bear fell into a chair, breaking it as if it were kindling.
Before Bear could stand, Aaron killed him, whirling in a single fluid motion and reaching inside his boot for a dirk which he sent straight through the big man’s heart. As Bear fell dead to the floor, Aaron spun back around to face Jericho.
Shocked by the stranger’s lethal speed, Lainie stood and stared for a moment before regaining her senses.
Too late she bolted from the room.
She dashed toward the forest where she’d left her mount, praying her companions had not taken her mare with them. Before the door closed, she risked a fast glance over her shoulder, wondering why she heard no swords clanging.
Gypsy was saddled, bridled and ready to go. All of Lainie’s possessions were in the saddlebags and bedroll tied behind the saddle. Now speed was more important than anything else.
In a wild last dash, Lainie threw herself into the saddle, spun Gypsy on her hocks and headed away from the tavern at a dead run. By the time Gypsy reached her top speed, the tavern lights had vanished into the darkness of the dense forest.
From the corner of his eye, Aaron glimpsed a flurry of dark wool and a breathtaking length of leg. The drum roll of horse’s hooves filled the ringing silence that had followed the clang of swords.
Jericho smiled grimly at the man who was watching him with sword in one hand and another dirk in the other hand.
"Looks like she’s hell bent to get out of here. Neither one of us is going to be spending the night in her arms, whoever she is,"
Jericho
said calmly, sitting back and seeming to enjoy the moment.