Ruby blinked, her grip on her knife slick with sweat. These men were looking for Evan?
“Back off,” Evan growled. “Or ye’ll regret it.”
The blond man shook his head as though saddened by Evan’s response. “That’s not very civil, is it? After we’ve come all this way to see ye as well.”
Ruby’s breath rasped in her throat as the six men tightened their semicircle. Steel glinted in the firelight. Her pulse pounded in her ears like a drum.
“Give it up, Campbell,” the blond man said. “Ye know there’s no way to escape. MacInnes can reach ye anywhere. Ye’ve made one enemy too many. Not even that noble blood of yers will save ye now.”
Ruby’s gaze flicked to Evan, but he didn’t blink. He shifted his weight, knives angled low, shoulders loose. If he’d heard the insult—or the truth?—his expression gave away nothing.
“I’ve told ye once already,” he growled, stepping slightly forward to shield Ruby. “Back off. I’m not the man ye are looking for.”
The blond man gave an incredulous snort. “Aye? Funny that, seeing as yer face is the spit of the portraits hanging in—”
“Shut yer mouth,” Evan snapped.
The men advanced, but Evan lunged first. His knives flashed in the darkness, catching the faint orange glow from the campfire. He moved with terrifying precision. He ducked a swing, dodged another, kicked a man in the knee and sent him sprawling.
Two men rushed him. Evan spun, knives arcing, deflecting both strikes. He seemed everywhere at once—until suddenly he wasn’t.
A shadow slipped behind him, and Ruby saw it a split second before Evan did.
“Evan!”
Her body moved without conscious thought. Her hand closed around the first object she could find—a fallen branch, half-charred on one end—and swung. It smacked squarely into the back of the man’s head with a crunch. He staggered to his knees and then collapsed onto his face.
Ruby froze, shocked at her actions. Then Evan grabbed her arm and yanked her backward just as a blade whistled past her cheek.
“Bloody—” Evan didn’t finish the curse. He slammed his elbow into a man who had come up behind him. “I told ye to staybehindme!”
“You had someone behindyou!” Ruby shouted back indignantly. “You’re welcome!”
His eyes flicked to her, furious, but shouts suddenly rang through the darkness.
“Over here! They’re this way!”
Several of the caravan’s guards burst through the trees, weapons drawn, lanterns bobbing crazily. Isla sprinted with them, clutching a knife almost as long as her forearm, hair wild, face streaked with soot.
“Ruby!” Isla cried. “Look out!”
Ruby whirled. A man lunged at her. She shrieked and jumped back, tripping over a root. Her arm flailed uselessly, but Evan hurled his blade before the man could strike. The knife buried itself in the man’s shoulder with a meaty thud. He howled in pain.
The caravan guards piled into the men. Blades clashed, boots thudded, men grunted and cursed.
Ruby scrambled up, chest heaving, still gripping her soot-stained branch like a talisman. Isla grabbed her shoulders, checking her for injuries.
“Ye aren’t hurt?”
Ruby shook her head. She wasn’t sure she could speak yet.
A shout rang out, followed by the thump of fleeing footsteps. The attackers vanished into the trees as quickly as they’d come. Silence settled, broken only by the crackle of the fire and the groans of the injured.
Evan stood with his hands braced on his thighs, catching his breath. Blood smeared his temple—someone else’s, Ruby hoped.
Isla’s father limped over. He carried a stout wooden staff whose bloody end showed it had seen combat.
“Campbell!” he barked. “I’ll ask ye plain. These men weren’t interested in looting our goods. They said yer name. Were they here for ye?”
