Steps pounded in his wake.
As Patrik started to turn, the injured knight tackled him from behind. His sword clattered to the ground near the knight’s weapon. Fury drove him forward, the primal urge to protect Cristina burning his mind.
“Come out,” the fourth man ordered as he neared the trees.
Patrik slammed his fist into the injured knight’s face, kicked him away, then grabbed his sword and jumped to his feet.
In the murky light, Patrik caught Cristina emerging from the shield of trees. Bedamned! “Get back.”
She held, her focus riveted on the guard.
The knight bore down on her.
Damn her, she was going to get herself killed!
The knight was but two paces away, yet she held. “Leave her!” Patrik yelled.
The warrior spun toward him.
Thankful, Patrik raised his blade and willed the lass to hide.
“Patrik, behind you,” Cristina warned.
He whirled as the injured knight he’d kicked away charged. In a deft maneuver, Patrik rounded his blade, served him a deadly blow. He turned.
The knight towered over Cristina, blade raised.
Panic ripped through him, the distance between him and the knight was too great. “No!”
As if in slow motion, the knight attacking Cristina glanced at Patrik.
With the knight’s back toward her, Cristina raised her blade and drove it deep with methodical precision.
The knight’s eyes flared in shock. He stumbled forward, collapsed. Face twisted in agony, he clawed at the dagger shoved in his lower back, a location skilled warriors used for a quick, sure kill.
What in Hades? Patrik lifted his gaze.
With stunning control, Cristina walked forward with a calm step and withdrew her blade, its tip slick with the man’s blood. She turned toward Patrik, and stilled.
Their gazes clashed. Hers dark, unreadable.
The entire event had taken mere seconds, her action delivered with deft sureness. She’d never faltered, never betrayed the terror she must feel.
He opened his mouth to ask her what the bloody hell was going on.
A branch cracked. The angry sounds of men echoed in the distance as well as the pounding of steps.
The English approached! He secured his weapons as she stowed hers. He caught her hand. “Run!”
The slap of leaves whipped him, the tangle of stones threatened to take him down as he hauled her alongside. He pushed on, using every wisp of light to guide them, Cristina on his heels.
The sound of the men’s steps echoed behind them as if a curse.
Gasping at his side, Cristina began to falter. At this pace, it was only a matter of time before the knights caught up to them.
They started up the next incline. In the dim light, a shield of brush and boulders rose to their left.
Patrik pulled her up the incline, helped her hide behind the largest rock. “Do not move.”
