Sloan! Tears filled her eyes in gratitude and disbelief. Sloan was there for her again, when all had been lost, when she’d known no hope.…
The whistle she had heard had been that of an arrow, sent soaring through the air with cunning and uncanny marksmanship, severing the rope.
He, courageous as the wind, she thought with the greatest pride, had come to challenge the lethal shadows of injustice. To challenge the crown—and death itself.
Chapter 10
The dirt, which created a gritty feeling within her mouth, assured Brianna that her rescue from the portals of death was not a dying dream, but incredible, wonderful fact.
She had little time for anything but that realization, for all hell was breaking loose upon the earth.
She scrambled to a crouch beneath the scaffolding of the gallows while the sharp whistle of flying arrows continued to sound as music to her ears and the cacophony of pistols fired at close range set her ears ringing. Before her, the man who would have been her executioner dropped to the dirt.
All about her the people were shouting and screaming. For several seconds Brianna held very still, wondering in awe how Sloan had managed such a swift and sure attack upon the witchfinder and the forces of James II.
At last she crept from beneath the gallows, ripping the noose of hemp from about her neck. She froze at the sight of a king’s man approaching her, then exhaled as a shot was fired and he spun about like a marionette jerked by strings, and fell. Brianna gazed at him for a second of horror as his eyes glazed not inches from her feet, then crawled again to rise outside the scaffolding.
She raised her eyes to see that Matthews alone remained alive, standing on the gallows. He shouted orders furiously, but already a good fraction of his men lay dead while the rest fought the crowd to find their attackers.
Only Sloan could be seen. Mounted atop a gleaming roan, he charged through the crowd, who cheered him on and eagerly made way for him.
Matthews drew a pistol as Sloan approached. But the witchfinder panicked at the cold relentlessness of the man bearing down on him, and his shot went harmlessly into the ground. He was shaking too badly to reload, and cast the pistol aside, drawing his saber instead.
“Captain! The girl!”
Brianna saw that the warning had been shouted from the roof of a nearby smithy by Robin, one of Sloan’s young crewman. And then she gasped, realizing the cause of his warning—more of Matthews’s men were barging their way to the gallows. One burly soldier was almost near her.
Sloan was at last upon them—but his purpose changed radically when no other course was open to him. He had wanted to kill Matthews—God, how he had wanted to kill him—but Brianna was vulnerable. And the king’s forces were closing around her.
The roan pranced and shied to the steps of the gallows. Sloan kept one eye on Matthews and shouted. “Brianna! Run, girl, run to me!”
A soldier came toward her with his sword raised to strike her.
She ran to Sloan. He reached for her with one hand, commanding, “Jump, lass—now!”
She gripped his hand and leapt with all her strength and energy, throwing herself in front of his saddle. She felt the deadly tension of his arm as it swung, and his cutlass flashed in the air with deadly purpose. The soldier screamed and fell. “To the ship, lads! To the ship!” Sloan shouted.
Sloan’s arm came around her, securing her to the saddle with his vital strength and warmth. “Hold tight, lass!” he compelled her. The roan reared and bolted and took off in a mad, erratic gallop.
The crowd, now alive with excitement and frenzy, thundered out their cheers, parting to allow Sloan and the scattered sailors to escape. Matthews shouted orders in their wake, and as they clattered their way furiously down the cobblestoned streets, the soldiers were hard on their trail.
Merchants’ stands of fruits and vegetables crashed and careened around them as the sailors raced their way to theSea Hawk. Several of the horses were forced to leap a hay wagon, yet they continued on. The streets swept dizzily by until they reached the dock—and the berth of theSea Hawk, where the horses snorted and shrieked in protest as they were jerked to rearing halts.
Brianna found herself thrust into Robin’s arms from her seat atop the roan. “Take her below!” Sloan ordered, sliding from the mount himself and swatting the animal’s rear to send it skittishly racing away.
“Come!” Robin urged her.
His arm was about her and she followed his lead to the gangplank, but twisted to look behind her. Sloan was hurrying his men along, and shouting orders. “Slash her ties, men! Raise the sails!”
And beyond him the king’s troops were coming, Matthews at the lead.
“Robin!” Brianna shrieked as she saw an arrow sail through the air. She dragged him down with her, in time to save them each from a mortal blow, but too late to avoid a hit, as evidenced by Robin’s agonized screech as the arrow tore into his thigh.
“Leave me!” he commanded Brianna, gritting out his words painfully between clenched teeth.
“Nay, I cannot!” she cried in horror, locking her jaw together for strength as, placing her hands beneath his arms, she dragged him along. The task was almost beyond her and she was moving terribly slowly.
“Brianna!” Robin hissed. “Go—seek shelter.”
