“Oh, my.” Rhiannon started to walk toward the lad, her features softening, but then, for a fraction of a second, something changed in her eyes. The softness hardened, and before Ian had a chance to react, she was moving. Her arm wrenched back, and the dagger in her hand flew through the air toward his head. Ian ducked, feeling the wind of her throw against his face and then the unmistakable sound of steel meeting flesh behind him.
A guttural moan.
The thump of a body.
The clang of a weapon dropping.
Ian whirled from where he’d dropped down into a crouch, dagger in hand, to see a rough-looking man felled on the forest floor a few feet away.
The child cried out, “Da!” and rushed over to Ian, beating him about the shoulders, neck and face as great sobs escaped his throat.
Rhiannon was there in two seconds, wrenching the distraught lad away, cooing words against his head as she held him tightly. Why was Ian the one to bear the beating for her deed? Perhaps the lad had missed her being the one to throw the dagger. Perhaps he’d been taught never to hit a woman.
Everything had happened so fast that Ian had trouble wrapping his head around the facts. The lad had been a decoy. While the lad distracted the two of them, the father had snuck up behind Ian, ready to axe him to death. Outlaws, obviously.
And Rhiannon…
Holy hell. The woman had launched her dagger at the outlaw, hitting him in the shoulder, the force of which had slammed him backward—the power to do that was incredible. In his fall, the outlaw seemed to have tripped over a root, falling and hitting his head, which had knocked him unconscious. Blood from his head wound and a knife protruding from his shoulder were enough to have the lad believing his father had crossed to the other side.
The lad was wailing loud enough to wake the dead. Ian’s heart went out to him, for to believe one’s father was deceased was terrifying, especially for one so young, but the wound Rhiannon had delivered wasn’t a killing one.
Either she’d missed or done that on purpose, not wanting to leave the lad to raise himself, even if his only other option was to be raised by this outlaw. If the latter were the case, Ian’s respect for her doubled.
“Your da’s going to wake,” Rhiannon was saying. “I promise. You’ll have to wait a wee bit. Where is your mama?”
“She’s gone.”
“And do you have a brother or sister?”
Ian searched the surrounding wood, fearful they were about to be swooped upon by said brother or sister.
“Nay. Just my uncles and cousins.”
Even worse. A hoard of outlaws ready to pounce.
“All right then. Are they far from here?”;
Ian didn’t know what she was getting at, but he hoped to hell she wasn’t about to promise they’d take him to them. That was a one-way directive to getting robbed and slaughtered, or beat up at the very least. Though he’d fight like hell, and it seemed she might have a few fighting tricks up her sleeve, he didn’t possess the strength of ten men.
“Not too far.”
“Well, perfect then. They will come to get you soon.”
Ian breathed a sigh of relief at that. She wasn’t planning on taking the lad. He shook the man’s uninjured shoulder, trying to wake him. Though he didn’t want to take the lad anywhere, he also didn’t want to leave him unattended.
The man’s eyes fluttered, and he groaned. Then his eyelids shot up nearly to his brows, and he sat upright, arms shooting out to fight. But Ian was faster, grabbing his arms in a vice-like grip and shoving him back down.
“Calm yourself,” Ian growled. “Your lad needs ye, and I’ll no’ be wanting to take ye away from him permanently.”
“Da!” the lad’s cry seemed to break through the man’s furious haze, and he glanced over Ian’s shoulder to his son, rushing toward him. “You’re awake and not dead.”
“Not dead yet,” the man grumbled, glancing sideways at Ian.
“No’ by our hands,” Ian said. Then he gripped the dagger protruding from the man’s shoulder. “Hold your breath, man.” And he yanked it out.
Surprisingly, the man only grunted a little while his bulging eyes reflected that he probably wanted to scream. Holding strong so as not to scare his lad. Ian respected that, even if he didn’t respect what had gotten them into this situation to begin with.
“We’ll be going now,” Ian said, cleaning off the dagger on some moss before handing it back to Rhiannon. “Dinna follow us.”
