Chapter 5
Niall led the way through the forest, intent on his destination, although he hadn’t shared it with the others.
Brighit recognized the place as soon as they entered the boulder-strewn path.
This was the very same land she’d crossed with Darragh, Tisa and Tadhg.
They had been heavily guarded with no explanation for it.
So the MacCochlain would feel the sting of their raiding this night. Her excitement increased three-fold.
When the guards accompanying them had quickly turned their group away from this very path, Brighit’s interest had been piqued. The serious expressions on Tadhg and Darragh’s faces had left her feeling, yet again, that a woman’s life was the antithesis of exciting.
For the smallest instant, she wondered if she should tell her uncle that their group had avoided riding through this area. But, she had no definite information. They’d kept her shielded from any such knowledge. Men were always too protective of women, but her uncle was an exception. Even so…
“Uncle Niall?”
Though she’d whispered the words, Niall turned around, his shoulders up by his ears as if she’d shouted in her loudest voice. She immediately regretted the decision to say anything, but he was already moving closer to her.
“We do not want to be discovered before we’ve even found the cattle, lass.” The smell of ale was strong on his breath. “Are ye certain we need to be talking at this precise moment?”
Brighit nibbled at her thumb and shrugged. Niall tousled her hair as if she were still five, then bopped her nose, ready to turn about.
“I am certain.” Brighit spat out the words. “When we traveled these lands yesterday, we were heavily guarded. ’Twas as if there was much to be protected from here.”
Niall’s eyes creased with his smile. “Wonderful. All the more fun for us.”
And then he was back in his place, leading their little group. Well, she’d told him all she knew and it hadn’t worried him. No sense in allowing it to worry her.
Walls of cold, hard rock towered over them on both sides. They rode single file between the massive formations. With the moon well hidden by thick clouds, they could barely see the rider in front of them.
“Damn dark in here, Niall.” Lachlann’s statement was met with a quiet hush.
Brighit shivered, trying to ignore the nagging sense that someone was walking over her grave. This was a wonderful adventure—her last—and she was determined to enjoy it. An owl sounded in the distance as if in warning. Swallowing became difficult despite her constant reassurances to herself.
A horse whinnied in the distance. Too far ahead to be one of their own. Shivers tingled down her back and she took a shuddering breath.
A single war cry pierced the darkness.
“We’ve been discovered, lads.” Niall’s call held that distinct pitch of surprise mixed with panic. “Toward the river.”
They galloped the rest of the way through the trail, immediately breaking left when they finally cleared the narrow pass.
The sound of many thundering hooves carried through the darkness.
The mounted men came out of nowhere. The sight of those dark figures waving their war swords and shields was accompanied by that same eerie cry.
Brighit would admit, at least to herself, this was less an adventure and more a scary experience.
They’d barely escaped the ambush. A second slower and they’d have been cut off. Trapped. Likely killed. That fact was not lost on Brighit. These men had been waiting for them, prepared to attack them as soon as they crossed onto the land of Clan MacCochlain.
“Hasten, lads. To the water!” Niall’s voice rang out above the din of startled horses and the chaotic calls of the men in hot pursuit.
Why were they being chased? They hadn’t done anything wrong yet. And they were being chased by eight, big, mean-looking men. Brighit only ventured one glance at the pursuers before dropping low to her horse, urging it to top speeds.
“Quick now, lads.” So accustomed was she to Niall’s low, deliberate way of speaking, the sudden alarm in his voice was causing havoc in her innards.
She was certain his repeated call of “lads” was intentional.
A reminder they needed to protect her. Regret washed over her.
They shouldn’t have to worry about her presence when there was immediate danger.
Niall, her brothers, and the other lads quickly surrounded her, but in so doing, they essentially blocked her in on all sides. Their attempt at protection ensnared her, giving her no opportunity to break into a gallop. Mayhap on her own, she could get away.
The raid had fallen apart before it had even begun. And now she was being led away like a defenseless female—protected! This wasn’t what she’d wanted. Not at all.
Valiant was the fastest horse she’d ever seen, and agile too—Brighit easily wove between the spindly trees, pitching sharply from one side to the other to avoid the jagged branches as they ventured into the darkened forest. Despite her unfamiliarity with this place, she’d practiced her riding skills in so many different forests over the years she was able to keep to a fast pace.
She’d always won friendly riding competitions, something that gave her confidence now.
They were heading due west and away from MacNaughton lands. Good plan, keeping their pursuers from knowing to whom they were pledged. Best if they remained an unknown group of men unless they were engaged, which didn’t seem to be her uncle’s plan.
They cleared the trees, crossing an open meadow, and Lachlann was suddenly beside her.
“To Dead Man’s Pass.” His whispered words were followed by a hard slap to her horse’s rump at the same time the men parted. Valiant jerked forward, directly to the opening, and Brighit was nearly dislodged.
Niall’s quiet command from behind was unmistakable. “Make haste.”
And so she did. The others were turning back and spreading out, preparing for a confrontation.
A shift in tactics? They were readying for attack, and here she was riding off by herself.
The sound of the other horses quickly faded, but the unmistakable sound of steel on steel carried to her.
A twinge of disappointment settled in her chest. She would have liked to test her skills in such a battle.
The realization that there had been no attempt to even include her was hard to swallow. She’d bested each of these lads one on one, so why wouldn’t they want her to stay with them? To help with defense even?
Darragh’s comment about her lack of real fighting experience had stuck with her, diminishing her pride in her own accomplishments.
It was true her fighting had only been against the lads of her clan.
She didn’t want him to be right and this would be the perfect chance to prove herself.
So she reached beneath her heavy, wool brait and fisted her trusty dagger, blade side out.
She wasn’t fool enough to ride back. If they were bent on protecting her and sending her off, her return could be a deadly distraction, but at least she would be ready if anyone came upon her.
The clouds parted to reveal a steep hill directly in front of her. Brighit smiled.
“Come now, fair Valiant, show them what ye can do.” With a slight squeeze of her mount’s sides, the horse sprinted ahead, covering the space to the top of the hill with little effort.
She glanced behind to gauge if the fighting continued behind her, only to discover there was one warrior still after her.
Dogging her. Intent on her capture. His dark figure, tall in his saddle, turned toward her as he cut across the hill at a lower level.
Given the path he’d chosen, he would easily intercept her at the base.
A sudden thrill brought a smile to her lips.
She may indeed have a chance at engagement yet.
Holding the reins in a one-handed death grip, Brighit focused on the forest ahead.
She would do her best to escape as her uncle had intended.
If she could make the trees, she would have a chance.
If not, she would turn and engage this devil’s spawn who thought to chase her.
But despite her increased speed, the sound of his laboring horse was growing louder.
When she heard the rider’s heavy breathing, she experienced a sudden pang of fear.
Brighit hunched closer to the horse’s neck to urge the courser to greater speed, shifting her weight forward. “Do yer best to run like the wind, Valiant.”
And if ’tis not enough, may God show me favor in my first honest battle.
“Ye’ve picked the wrong clan this time.” The man’s low, menacing tone quickened her heart.
Word play is an attempt to break the opponent’s concentration.
She shut out all around her, aside from her horse’s gallop and the trees ahead blurring with the intensity of her gaze.
“Ye’re mine.” He sounded closer, but that couldn’t be.
She spared a glance behind her and frowned. There was no one. How could he—
Oomph.
A solid wall smacked into her chest, knocking her right off her horse and onto the ground. As she lay flat on her back, the unbearable sensation of not being able to breathe gripped her. Her chest burned. Desperate, she was struck by the fact that she might die right here for lack of air.
The sight of him coming at her, a nasty looking sword in his grasp, forced her into action. Rolling away from him, she jumped up on her feet and crouched low in a flash, her own weapon in hand.
He stopped an arm’s length from her, tipped his head and asked, “D'ye seriously want to do this?”