Screams and outraged yells echoed in their wake.
Fragmented sunlight spun around them as they ran through the forest. Amidst his painful haze, Patrik’s fury grew. He wanted her nowhere near his brothers. What lies had she told them to make them believe her, to lead them to their deaths? Bedamned, well he knew her expertise when it came to twisting truths.
The crash of brush in their wake alerted them the English had reached the forest.
An arrow hissed past. Another whipped by a handsbreadth away and lodged in a nearby tree.
Patrik forced himself forward, his side aching, his entire body threatening to collapse.
They forged through a dense thicket, and Duncan came into view at the head of a small contingent.
“Mount,” Seathan ordered.
Duncan swung up, reached down for Patrik.
A yell had Patrik glancing back.
Several paces away, an English knight trained his arrow on Alexander.
Fear tore through Patrik. “Nae!”
At Patrik’s shout, Emma turned. As if in slow motion, she watched Patrik dive against Alexander a second before an arrow sank deep within Patrik’s chest.
“Patrik!” Fury tore through her. Emma drew her bow, released; the knight who’d shot Patrik collapsed.
“Help me put Patrik on the horse,” Lord Grey ordered.
Sir Alexander caught Patrik’s other shoulder, lifted him to Sir Duncan.
The English broke through the trees.
“Go!” Lord Grey called as he swung up on his steed.
Sir Alexander mounted, caught Emma’s waist, hauled her before him and dug his heels into his mount. Clods of dirt flew as his bay surged ahead.
She clung tight as flashes of trees whipped by. A league away, they galloped toward a ridge thick with fir. As if a door opened, they rode through. Immense rock jutted up before them, and within a crevice lay a large gap.
Without hesitation, the earl and his men cantered inside. The last of their party halted, then hurriedly covered the entry.
As his men worked, Lord Grey turned his mount, pinning Emma with his ominous gaze, his threat clear. Never would he allow her the freedom to reveal this rebel hideout. It was an unfounded worry. With deception a foul taste upon her tongue, she would never reveal this secret.
Through the shards of waning light, Emma glanced at Patrik, found him slumped in Sir Duncan’s arms. Fear tore through her. “Is he . . .”
“He is alive.” Angst darkened Sir Duncan’s gaze. “Barely. If he does not see a healer soon, he will die.”
Chapter 20
The fading glimmer of stars etched the sky as Emma, positioned behind Lord Monceaux, rode toward Lochshire Castle. Sir Alexander had not grumbled at the move. With his brother rescued, he wanted naught more to do with her. A matter upon which they both agreed.
She glanced over at Patrik’s slumped form. The long hours of riding throughout the night had taken their toll. In the gray dawn light she could see the paleness of his face.
We are almost there, hang on please.
“Lord Grey arrives,” a guard called from the wall walk.
The steady thrum of hooves upon wood echoed as they crossed the drawbridge, then cantered beneath the gatehouse and into the bailey. Amidst the flicker of flames inside, knights awaited them. Unlike before, they now eyed her with distrust.
The earl drew his destrier to a halt, nodded to his brothers. “Take Patrik to his chamber.” He glanced toward one of his men. “Sir Malcolm, fetch the healer.”
