Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
Ascream sounded behind him, drawing his attention as he wiped the blood from his axe.
He glanced up, his brain immediately scrambling to understand what had gone wrong. His eyes fell on the carriage, and panic surged through him.
A man was standing in the now open door, half of his torso inside the carriage. Arthur assumed he was another bandit, one whose job had been to sneak up while he had been fighting with the other men. But they’d underestimated his skill. They did not know whom they had come upon in these woods.
And now, that man was threatening his betrothed.
“Nay one threatens what is mine,” Arthur growled, sprinting for the carriage.
It was shaking, no doubt from the fight inside of it. He grinned savagely, imagining his woman fighting off the bandit.
Arthur would make him pay for forcing her to fight.
He imagined himself getting there and pulling the man back. He would cleave him in two. He would make him rue the day he decided to attack the carriage that held such precious cargo. He would—
A gurgling sound filled the air, one that Arthur was all too familiar with. A thick, heaving sound as someone tried to draw in breath but their lungs and throat were already filling with blood.
His panic shot through the roof.
Get to Marissa. Save her.
He ignored the fact that that sound meant it was too late.
But just as he reached the carriage, preparing himself for the worst, the bandit stumbled out.
He took several, jerky steps away. The man’s hands were up, clutching at his throat as blood poured over them.
His eyes were wide and crazed, filled with all the worries of a dying man.
The gurglin’ came from him.
The realization washed over Arthur just as the bandit fell forward. His body hit the earth with a thud, the gurgling fading as the man drew his last breath.
“Marissa,” Arthur breathed, carelessly stepping over the bandit’s corpse as he bounded for the open door. “Ye’re alive.”
She was on the opposite side of the carriage, her back pressed against the wall. A knife was clutched firmly in her shaking hand.
Her lovely brown eyes were wide and panicked. Arthur did a quick scan of her body, looking for injuries. But aside from an angry red mark around her neck and the sheer terror written on her beautiful face, she appeared unscathed.
“Michael,” she blurted, her voice a little too loud in the now quiet woods.
“What does he have to do with anythin’?” Arthur asked, confused as he climbed into the carriage.
He moved slowly, every slight shift of his body measured so as not to frighten her further. Finally, he was able to ease himself onto the bench across from her.
Her chest was rising and falling rapidly. He could not imagine that a lady of her standing had ever seen death before, not like this, let alone had a hand in it. And he knew the terror that came with one’s first kill.
“Michael taught us all how to fight,” she said, finally answering his question. Her voice was still shaky but getting more steady with each syllable. “Me sister was taken once. Kidnapped. After that, he thought we should all learn how to defend ourselves.”
“But ye’ve never had to do it before?” Arthur asked, and she nodded. “He’d be proud of ye. Ye defended yerself well. Ye saved yer own life—that’s nay small feat.”
Her gaze held his. Her eyes were still wide, still filled with fear. But there was something else there.
Pride.
His words had gotten to her.
And she should be proud. It’s nae every day that a lass gets the chance to kill her attacker.
Lord knows that Arthur was proud of her. So damned proud he was having a little trouble putting it into words. He also didn’t know her well enough to spring that on her.
So, instead, he reached forward carefully. His hand wrapped around the knife. Immediately, Marissa released it, seemingly glad to be rid of it.
“Michael taught us to always keep a knife in the bodices of our gowns when we travel,” she explained, her voice much more steady than it had been a moment ago.
Arthur smirked. “I’ll need to write to him and thank him for teachin’ me betrothed so well.”
She chuckled. The fear was fading from her features quickly. Finally, Marissa released a long breath and shook her shoulders, as if the act alone could rid her of what she’d just done.
“We need to get back on the road,” Arthur said. “But this time, ye’ll be sittin’ up front with me. I need to be able to keep an eye on ye.”
She nodded, not arguing as the pair of them clambered out of the confines of the carriage.
Arthur stood off to the side, extending his hand to help her up into the driver’s seat. He watched as she climbed up into it, settling down with a swish of her skirts.
He told her to stay there and stay alert as he slunk down the road and removed the felled tree that had been placed there to stop them. It rolled easily, and as he kicked it off the road, he turned back to the carriage and found Marissa watching him intently.
With purposeful strides, he made his way back to her. As he climbed up onto the wooden bench beside her, the corner of her mouth quirked into a smirk.
“It’s all right, ye ken,” she quipped, her voice sounding lighter than it had been since the fight had broken out.
“What is?”
He bent, grabbing hold of the reins and flicking them. He admired how calm the horses had been, how they had not so much as balked as the fight had broken out. Another thing that he’d thank Michael for. He’d expected it from his own horse, but the other had been a pleasant surprise.
“That ye want me up here so that I can protect ye,” Marissa answered. When Arthur looked at her, her smile was broad. “I willnae tell yer secret.”
She winked at him, and for the very first time since Arthur had met her, he couldn’t help but laugh.