"Stay away from her from now on!"
She hid the knife beneath the wool blanket covering the ground. The blade was not overly large, maybe six or eight inches long. She thought the man might not notice its absence, since it was likely not his primary dirk, which would be much longer.
As she listened, footsteps tramped closer, then heavy breathing sounded at the tent opening. "Trying to seduce Mungo in exchange for your freedom, were you?" Holme ground the words out in a furious tone.
Icy chills prickled her nerve endings. "Nay. He lied."
"Humph. Mayhap you're the little liar. And for that, you will pay a price."
Dear God, what would he do to her? Still sitting, she slid over and covertly placed her hand on the knife hilt beneath the blanket. Instead of panicking and lashing out, she had to stab him in just the right spot to do him fatal injury. And she had to somehow get beneath his leather armor.
He crawled forward.
"Stay away from me!" she warned.
"Nay. Why do you think I went to so much trouble to reclaim you?"
Because he was a madman bent on tormenting her all of her days. Or maybe he wanted revenge for perceived snubs in the past.
"Because you're a tasty morsel," he said. "You've been teasing and taunting me far too long. Years."
Ugh! How could she talk him out of his vile plan? "Have you not seen my scar? I'm ugly," she stated.
"Nay, I like the look of you, and now I want to feel the shape of you in the dark."
Nausea roiled in her stomach. "Do not touch me!" What a foul swine he was.
"I will touch you and a lot more. I can wait no longer."
She'd castrate the bastard if she had the opportunity.
He rolled her onto her stomach and tugged the back of her skirts upward.
"Nay!" she screamed.
"Shut your mouth," he growled. "Or I'll put another gag on you. You don't want to anger me, lass. I'll only make it more painful for you."
Pain? She would give him pain. She fisted one hand around the knife's hilt, then wrapped the other hand around that one for added strength. But how could she stab him from this position? She must turn over.
His hand burrowed beneath her skirts to the bare skin of her upper thighs. She thrust one elbow backward, hitting his chest.
He laughed. "Don't try to fight me. You are only a small, weak lass."
He would see about that if only she could turn over.
Some hard, bare part of his anatomy pressed against her derriere. Raw fear and revulsion made her want to retch, but she forced herself to remain calm and think logically.
"I wish to turn over," she said. "Do you not want to kiss me first?"
"Aye." He grabbed her arm and roughly rolled her over. When he came down on her, pressing his mouth to hers, she shoved the knife upward, hoping to get it beneath his armor. It made contact and she pushed the knife with all the strength in both arms.
"Ow! Bitch!" He leapt off her. "Where did you get a knife?"
She drew the weapon back and struck at him again, making contact. Cursing, he knocked the blade from her hand. He then yanked her up by the front of her bodice and struck her face with his fist. The pain exploded through her skull. When his fist hit her the second time, all went black.
***
"Damn that bitch!" Carrying the knife he'd taken from Kristina, Holme crawled from the tent. The hellish stab wound in his belly smarted. He strode toward the campfire to check his injuries.
