Chapter 7
The Forest Road – Moments Later
Una ran.
She did not look back. She angled north by instinct and kept her breathing and footsteps as light as possible, weaving between the trees and dense undergrowth. Her entire focus was on moving forward and putting as much distance as possible between herself and her would-be captors.
She could not think beyond escape and survival, already building a mental checklist. Water. Food. Shelter. Weapon. Stream. Berries. Canopy. Knife. Chanting to match her pace.
After some time she was beginning to think she might actually manage it when she heard him.
Steady footfalls at her back, like a quiet rhythm gaining momentum.
Una ran faster.
***
CORMAC HAD HER DIRECTION within three strides of leaving the roadside.
The reeds at the edge of the ditch were still trembling, bent in a clear arc pointing northeast. A single small shoe print was pressed deep into the soft bank where she had pushed off hard.
She had chosen well, threading away from where his men were and cutting into the densest part of the canopy, where the undergrowth would drag at a larger man.
She had good instincts. He would give her that.
His mask had come half-loose in the scramble, so he tucked it inside his plaid without breaking stride. He did not call after her. He simply moved through the woods like a shadow.
He knew Seumas and his men would track them both from a distance.
What he feared most was the lass hurting herself in unfamiliar terrain.
Cormac had witnessed sure-footed men fall to their deaths from ravines, or break bones and tear flesh in tumbles.
The thought of her running blind through these woods made his chest tighten.
And as he tracked her, he realized she had changed direction, most likely to lose him.
That brought a different fear. The mercenaries were close, and she was running directly toward them without knowing it.
Cormac pushed harder until he caught the swish of her gown against bracken.
Were it not for his acute hearing, he would have missed it entirely – her breathing was controlled and steady, her footsteps light.
She was running with her wits about her.
Under any other circumstances he might have paused to properly admire it.
Then he caught a flash of sage green between two dark trunks, and he knew he had her.
Una sensed him at the same moment. She glanced back over her shoulder – the first mistake she had made – and her eyes went wide when she saw how close he already was.
"No!" she gasped, and veered sharply left.
Cormac adjusted without thinking, cutting wide to intercept rather than follow.
She was quick, and she nearly made it past him.
She burst from behind a broad oak directly into his path, and he caught her around the waist mid-stride, one arm locking across her middle as her momentum nearly sent them both into the bracken.
For a fraction of a second, everything stopped.
She had her hands braced against his chest and her head up, ready to fight – and then she saw his face.
The half-mask was gone. She had registered that in the abstract but not properly, not like this, with his face bare and close and the afternoon light falling across it without obstruction.
She stared. She could not immediately help it.
He was... quite extraordinarily braw. Strong jaw, dark lashes, features that were beyond handsome – sharper, more serious, the kind of face that had been tanned by the sun and was all the better for it.
She had been thinking of him as a masked unknown, but unmasked he was something to behold.
He was watching her gaze at his face.
Cormac registered the widening of her eyes, the moment of shock before she gathered herself. He had no time to examine what he thought about it. More pressing matters awaited.
Once he had hold of her, the tightening in his chest eased, and he could not fathom why. But the moment was lost when she suddenly fought like a wildcat. Elbows back, heels driving, a stream of curses directed at him. He cursed in turn, got his footing, tightened his grip, and made his decision.
He bent, got a shoulder under her middle, and hoisted her off the ground.
"Put me down, ye heathen!" she shrieked.
"Calm down or ye'll hurt yerself," Cormac growled, and turned back the way he'd come with her over his shoulder.
"I swear to all the saints, if ye do nae put me down this instant I will—"
"Ye'll what?" he asked, with extreme patience given that she was presently trying to bite him through his plaid.
He gave her backside a firm smack. "Stop that. If ye want to bite me, at least wait till we're both naked!" he said with a grin.
She made a noise of pure incandescent fury and went back to kicking until Cormac gripped her thighs. She began to pound his back with her fists, which felt to him like light taps.
"Ye'll have to do better than that, lass, if ye mean to escape me again," he snorted. He couldn't help but smirk when she muttered curses under her breath.
"Now ye listen here, Mr. Shadow. If ye dinnae let me go, I'll make sure ye live to regret it!"
"Och, trust me, beauty. I regret it already," he replied.
Una stilled. No one had ever called her that before. She had to admit she liked it – then mentally slapped herself for such vanity. "Put me down, ye brute!"
"No, ye violent wench. Get used to my shoulder for now."
Una made a huffing noise in response, and Cormac just grinned.
He carried her in silence, retracing his route through the trees. He was acutely aware of how far they had come – further than he had realized in the chase, further than was comfortable. The road felt a long way behind them. The woods around them had gone very still.
Too still.
He stopped walking.
She stopped fussing.
For a moment neither of them moved. Then, with great care, Cormac lowered her from his shoulder and set her feet on the ground. His hands gripped her arms just long enough to be certain she was steady. He felt her go rigid as she understood what he had already known.
They were not alone.
Cormac turned slowly and placed Una behind him.
Eight men he did not recognize stepped out of the woods. Rough-looking and hard-eyed, blades drawn. They formed a loose semicircle.
At their head was a broad, weathered man who studied Cormac with an expression that was almost bored.
Cormac realized he had finally come face to face with the gang he had been searching for, and this was their leader.
He was relieved his mask remained tucked in his plaid.
Without it, there was nothing to mark him as the Shadow.
He was simply a stranger in the forest with a woman and that was something he could work with.
"Ye've something that belongs to us," the man said.
Una had gone very still against Cormac's back. He felt her fingers grip the edge of his belt as she moved closer.
"I found her wandering," Cormac replied. "Lost, ye might say."
The man's eyes moved to Una and sharpened with interest. "Lady Fenella Lockhart. Ye've led us on quite a chase." He looked back to Cormac. "Hand her over."
A beat of silence.
Behind him, Cormac felt the lass tense at the sound of her name.
"No," Cormac replied. "She stays with me."
Something shifted in the semicircle of men.
"Ye're either very brave or very stupid," their leader said.
"I've been told I'm both," Cormac replied.
The leader made a small gesture with two fingers. Three men stepped forward.
Cormac kept his eyes on them but spoke low to Una. "Lass, stay behind me, but remain alert. Dinnae let any man close enough to grab ye."
"What... what about ye?" Una asked.
"Dinnae worry about me. Just do as I say."
"Aye, but ye better not die on me, Highlander," she whispered.
Cormac snorted quietly, then turned his full attention to the men.
***
THE FIRST ATTACKER came at him high, going for his throat with both hands.
Cormac stepped into it rather than back, catching the man's leading wrist and using his own momentum to send him spinning hard into the nearest tree. The crack of impact was loud enough that several of the watching men flinched.
The second was more cautious, circling left with a blade in hand and watching for an opening. He feinted once, twice, then committed – and found nothing where Cormac had been. A sharp pivot, an elbow to the jaw, and the man sat down hard in the bracken with a dazed expression.
The third came from the side, which was the sensible approach and very nearly worked.
Cormac felt the grab at his shoulder, dropped his weight low and fast, and came up behind the man with a forearm across his throat.
A precise press of his fingers against the neck, and the man crumpled to the ground.
Three more came.
Cormac broke the nose of the first, disarmed the second and floored him with a knee to the groin, then used the third man's own charge to flip him onto his back and knock him senseless. All the while he kept Una constantly in his periphery.
Una was terrified, but she did as he had asked. She stayed close and kept her eyes moving. It dawned on her, with some mortification, that her earlier escape plan now seemed rather foolish because she had jumped clean from the frying pan into the fire.
What struck her was how adept Shadow was. He moved so quickly and with such speed that he had put six men down in a matter of minutes. No wasted motion. No raised voice. Just steady, focused calm.
The men had gone very quiet.
Their leader watched it all with flat pale eyes. His expression had changed.
"Stand down," he said at last. "I've seen enough."
His men stood down.
The leader studied Cormac for a long moment. Then the corner of his mouth curved.
"I'm Drunstan," he said. "And I think ye should join us."
***
CORMAC LET THE OFFER sit for a moment. Finally, he was one step closer to his mission.
"What's in it for me?" he asked.