Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
Gods above and Fair Folk below… this is the stupidest thing I have done in a long time… perhaps ever.
The thought was true enough, but it didn’t deter Logan from sliding over the rail of the shallow-bottomed craft he had boarded, to land lightly and silently on the rough wooden decking.
No one noticed him, too busy watching as one of their number stood gloating over the young woman whose screaming had attracted his attention.
They’d struck her. He’d thought he’d heard a blow, but he hadn’t been sure with the way sound carried over water, and especially since he’d been busy kicking off his boots and tucking them away before dropping off his boat and into the water.
Now, though, he could clearly see that one of the brutes had struck the young woman across the face.
She was holding her cheek, her eyes wide and frightened as the blackguard turned away to speak with his fellows, chest puffed out as if he’d committed some valorous deed in battle, rather than attacking a helpless lass.
The sight made Logan’s blood boil, burning away the trepidation and any lingering sense of hesitation he might have felt.
He slipped his boots and his weapons back onto his feet and his belt, then stalked forward.
He’d managed all of three steps before he faltered, feeling the sensation of someone’s gaze on him.
It was the woman. She’d seen him. No one else had noticed his arrival, but she was watching him. Logan tensed, afraid for a moment that she might give him away, either by some action or some word. Then the girl looked away, looking down with shivering shoulders as if lost in pain or fear.
Smart lass.
If he hadn’t already been drawn by her beauty - dark oak colored hair and blue-grey eyes like the loch before a storm, and fair but sun-kissed skin - then her quick wits would have caught him just as surely.
She’d been smart enough, and brave enough, to try and get his attention, despite being in a situation where most lasses would have been struck dumb with terror.
And now she had sense enough not to draw attention to his boarding of the craft.
Logan slipped forward, steps light as a cat’s, dirk in hand. No one was paying much attention to the aft quarters. He had almost reached the midpoint of the vessel when a trapdoor opened from below deck, and a crewman clambered out, almost on top of him.
The two men stared at each other for a single, frozen moment.
Logan saw the man’s eyes go wide, his mouth open to call for help.
Quick as a cat, he grabbed the man about the shoulders and dragged him down, kicking his feet out from under him and cutting his throat before he could make a sound. Unfortunately, the damage was done.
Another man turned at the sound of the scuffle, brief as it was.
Logan had enough time to duck out of sight, but there was no opportunity to hide the dead man, or the wash of crimson from the wound at his neck.
Logan cursed as the alarm bell sounded and surged from his hiding place, abandoning stealth for speed and what element of surprise was left to him.
He took the second man’s life with a dagger in the chest while the others were still trying to determine what had happened, then parried a blow from a cudgel, before whipping around to bury his blade in the third man’s arm and slice a gash from shoulder to elbow.
The sailor fell with a scream of pain. Then the rest surged toward him, and Logan found himself backed against the rail, trying to fend off axes, daggers, and more clubs, even a ramrod for a long gun, all while trying to inch his way toward the captive lass.
“He’s tryin’ tae make off with the prisoner! Stop him!” The roar of the captain’s voice made Logan wince.
He cut a man across the jaw, deeply enough that he scraped bone, kicked another with enough force to crack ribs and send him skidding back into his compatriots, then twisted and tossed his dagger in the lass’s direction. “Here!”
She caught it, fumbled as he might have expected, but kept hold of it. Then she bent to the deck, hunching over her bound hands and sawing at the ropes that held her with an energy and desperation that surprised him.
Then two seamen set on him at once, and he had no attention to spare for anything save defending himself.
Logan cracked one man’s knee and broke the other’s jaw with a well-placed uppercut, and just barely managed to draw two more blades to defend himself before the next wave of attackers was upon him.
Seconds later, there was a flash of color, and he managed to catch a glimpse of the lass, now on her feet and menacing the nearest sailor with the dagger.
Logan felt a brief spurt of admiration for her courage, though his heart sank at the way she held the blade.
She was clearly unused to combat, and untrained in using a dagger.
She’ll nae last long. Fer that matter, I’m nae sure how long I can last. A few men I could handle, but there must be a score or more aboard - too many fer me. Sooner or later…
A high-pitched feminine yelp reached his ear, and he managed to turn enough to see the woman reel back, dagger clattering across the deck as it was knocked from her hand by a sailor expertly wielding a cudgel.
The brigand menacing her on the other side caught her by the shoulder and shoved her against the railing in the next moment, pinning her with a dagger to her throat and a vicious grin on his face.
Logan reacted without thought. He parried a blow from an axe, took a bruising strike to the ribs from an oak cudgel wielded by another man, then broke the sailor’s jaw with a vicious punch.
He spun with the movement and drove one of his daggers home in another sailor’s ribs, then used the man’s falling body for leverage and a shield as he bounded across the deck and put his second blade into the back of the man holding the woman captive.
The man gave a rasping gurgle and collapsed. The woman stared at him wide-eyed. Logan caught her arm and pushed her toward the dubious shelter of some crates on the deck. “Stay behind me…”
Logan swore as another sailor appeared on her far side and tried to drag the lass away. To his surprise, the girl turned and punched the sailor on the chin, just as he had done to his own assailant moments before. The man let her go with a yowl, pushing her off balance as he stumbled back.
Logan’s gut clenched in dread, knowing what was about to happen and powerless to stop it. Time seemed to slow as he watched the woman stagger, trip over the remains of the ropes that had bound her, then bump into the rail… and topple over it, into the loch below.
Her cry of alarm brought the fighting to a halt, as the captain cursed. “Ye fools! We need her alive tae collect our pay! Someone get her out o’ the drink!”
Logan didn’t hesitate. He punched the nearest sailor - the one the lass had hit - again, stabbed the next closest man in the shoulder, then whipped around and dove over the side of the boat, toward the ripples that marked where the lass had fallen.
A second later, the cold water of the loch closed over him.
Logan kicked hard, his clothing dragging at him as he swam, and managed to reach the lass just as she surfaced, wide-eyed and spluttering.
He caught her arm but was not entirely surprised when she swung at him, wild and uncoordinated and gasping for breath as she fought to tread water. “Easy lass, tis me. I’m nae one o’ yer abductors.”
An arrow hissed into the water inches from him. Logan cursed. “Can ye swim?” A breathless nod. “Then swim fer it, or they’ll fill us full o’ arrows.” He jerked off his sash and wrapped one end around her hand, then his own. “Hold tight so I dinnae lose ye.”
Trying to swim with another person attached to him was difficult. It was rough and awkward, and more than once, water splashed into his mouth and eyes from her uneven strokes, causing Logan to cough and choke. Still, somehow, they managed.
His own boat was long gone, carried away by the tide, the drifting currents of the loch and the guidance of the sailors aboard it.
Logan cursed, muscles aching with the strain of swimming, climbing and fighting all within such a short span of time.
He took a moment to tread water and get his bearings, then struck out toward what he thought was the nearest shore.
The lass followed him, her own movements clumsy and uncertain as she fought the drag of her clothing and whatever weariness clung to her.
They had to reach land. Then they had to find some way to get dry, and to get warm. And, if possible, they had to find something to eat as well. After that…
A whimsical thought nearly made Logan choke on another mouthful of water. He would have laughed at himself, if the situation allowed it.
After that, I suppose I might dae well tae ask the lass her name, and mayhap give her mine as well. I dinnae even ken who it is I went tae such trouble tae rescue!