She pushed herself up,realizing she might still have a chance.
Just a little farther.Just a little longer.
“Oof!”She lay there, dazed, staring up at patches of gray sky visible through the canopy above. Her body had reached its limit. She had nothing left to draw upon.
More twigs snapping.Footsteps approaching.
So this washow it would end.
Gabriella closed her eyes,waiting for rough hands to claim their prize. But then her father’s voice came to her, clear and loud.
“Our women havefire in their blood. Ye’re of tough stock, lass.”
“Get up!”
Her eyes snapped open,her fingers clawing at dirt and roots until she reached a fallen, moss-covered trunk, slipping into the space. She folded herself in, pulling up her knees until they were pressed against her chest.
She hurriedly drewferns and underbrush around her, ignoring the spiders and beetles that scurried about at her intrusion. She preferred their company to a laird’s.
Stay awake.Stay silent. Stay hidden.
She heldher breath as footsteps drew nearer. Closer. Closer still. The footsteps paused just above her hiding place.
“Where did ye go, lass?”It was the deep voice from before.
Her heart pounded so loudlythat she was certain he would hear it. She pressed a dirt-covered hand over her mouth.
“I ken ye’re here somewhere.”A pause. “Come out. I’m nae one of them, lass.
Liar.
Of course he was.There hadn’t been anyone else except the Lairds and the organizers.
The forest fellsilent save for her thundering heartbeat and his breathing. One minute stretched into two.
Will he never leave?
Something rustledto Gabriella’s left.
“There ye are.”His footsteps moved away, following the sound.
She released her breath slowly,carefully. The black spots had multiplied, threatening to swallow her vision entirely. Just a little longer.
Nightfall would come.The hunt would end. She had to hold on until then.
She would—
The world tilted again.The next thing she knew, she was being hauled in a grip that was firm and strong.
“Nay!”She thrashed with what little strength she had left, even though she knew it would be nothing against the iron grip around her waist. “Let me go!”
The arms only tightened,lifting her off the ground. Her feet dangled uselessly, her back pressed against something solid and warm. A chest. A man’s chest.
“Stop fightin’,”his voice murmured near her ear. Low. Resonant. Not cruel like Lewis’s, but firm. Commanding.
She twisted anyway,summoning the last dregs of her strength. Her elbow connected with his ribs. She hoped it would be enough to make him loosen his grip, but he didn’t even grunt.
“I said, stop.”
