Releasing a shaky breath, Marissa sank back into the seat she’d just vacated. Tears stung her eyes as she began to process everything she’d just witnessed.
She’d heard stories of battle before. But never did she think she would one day see the realities of death. Not like this.
Nae even when Michael…
Marissa didn’t even have time to finish the thought. Not as the door she was sitting beside was wrenched open. A surprised gasp flew from her lips as brawny, unfamiliar arms wrapped around her.
A hand clamped down on her mouth, preventing her from screaming. With it came the stench of the man behind her—sour sweat and rank, decaying breath.
“Careful lass,” his voice hissed, just as his other hand curled around her throat.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Ascream sounded behind him, drawing his attention as he wiped the blood from his axe.
He glanced up, his brain immediately scrambling to understand what had gone wrong. His eyes fell on the carriage, and panic surged through him.
A man was standing in the now open door, half of his torso inside the carriage. Arthur assumed he was another bandit, one whose job had been to sneak up while he had been fighting with the other men. But they’d underestimated his skill. They did not know whom they had come upon in these woods.
And now, that man was threatening his betrothed.
“Nay one threatens what is mine,” Arthur growled, sprinting for the carriage.
It was shaking, no doubt from the fight inside of it. He grinned savagely, imagining his woman fighting off the bandit.
Arthur would make him pay for forcing her to fight.
He imagined himself getting there and pulling the man back. He would cleave him in two. He would make him rue the day he decided to attack the carriage that held such precious cargo. He would?—
A gurgling sound filled the air, one that Arthur was all too familiar with. A thick, heaving sound as someone tried to draw in breath but their lungs and throat were already filling with blood.
His panic shot through the roof.
Get to Marissa. Save her.
He ignored the fact that that sound meant it was too late. But just as he reached the carriage, preparing himself for the worst, the bandit stumbled out. He took several, jerky steps away. The man’s hands were up, clutching at his throat as blood poured over them. His eyes were wide and crazed, filled with all the worries of a dying man.
The gurglin’ came from him.
The realization washed over Arthur just as the bandit fell forward. His body hit the earth with a thud, the gurgling fading as the man drew his last breath.
“Marissa,” Arthur breathed, carelessly stepping over the bandit’s corpse as he bounded for the open door. “Ye’re alive.”
She was on the opposite side of the carriage, her back pressed against the wall. A knife was clutched firmly in her shaking hand.
Her lovely brown eyes were wide and panicked. Arthur did a quick scan of her body, looking for injuries. But aside from an angry red mark around her neck and the sheer terror written on her beautiful face, she appeared unscathed.
“Michael,” she blurted, her voice a little too loud in the now quiet woods.
“What does he have to do with anythin’?” Arthur asked, confused as he climbed into the carriage.
He moved slowly, every slight shift of his body measured so as not to frighten her further. Finally, he was able to ease himself onto the bench across from her.
Her chest was rising and falling rapidly. He could not imagine that a lady of her standing had ever seen death before, not like this, let alone had a hand in it. And he knew the terror that came with one’s first kill.
“Michael taught us all how to fight,” she said, finally answering his question. Her voice was still shaky but getting more steady with each syllable. “Me sister was taken once. Kidnapped. After that, he thought we should all learn how to defend ourselves.”
“But ye’ve never had to do it before?” Arthur asked, and she nodded. “He’d be proud of ye. Ye defended yerself well. Ye saved yer own life—that’s nay small feat.”
