Page 86 of Anice’s Bargain

Anice was pushed from the massive band of reivers toward the tree. Her blue dress was streaked with dirt, but she appeared unharmed. More than unharmed, in fact. She was defiant, her eyes flashing and her back straight and proud. James’s chest constricted.

Within seconds, it became clear why he had been restrained, for a second noose was knotted. They meant to put the scratching rope around Anice’s slender neck and—

His body erupted with rage.

One elbow caught a reiver in the gut while the top of his forehead smashed into another’s nose. There was no pain with any of his strikes, only the overwhelming need to get to Anice. To save her.

James lurched forward, hands still bound, with her name on his lips and in his heart. A cold hand clasped over his face, stifling his cry. Grit from his attacker’s palm ground harshly against his mouth, the pressure clamping off her name and muffling it to something she would never hear.

Many hands restrained him, and still he fought, helpless as the noose was placed over Anice’s head and roughly tightened.

Laird Graham grinned at his handiwork. He faced the castle once more. “Well?” he demanded. “Will ye cede yer castle?”

“Nay,” Anice cried out. The man beside her attempted to restrain her, but she shoved him away. “Don’t do it, Papa!”

“Ye dinna have long to make yer decision.” Laird Graham nodded to the reivers near Anice and Drake. “Slow, lads. Ye dinna want to break their necks.”

To James’s horror, the men obediently pulled on the ropes, arm over arm, until Anice’s feet lifted off the ground. He struggled and fought against his captors to no avail. His father would get Werrick Castle, even if it meant that Anice would have to die.

James knew that now, and he was entirely helpless to stop it.

* * *

Anice had expectedher fate as soon as the noose slipped around her neck and immediately formed a plan.

The loose-bound ropes on her wrists were made more so by subtle wriggling during the journey. Her bindings had slackened so much that she had to hold her fingers just so to keep the rope from slipping off. Then there was the blade James had slipped her.

James. Where was he?

Her gaze skimmed the crowd of faces with desperation, but he was not to be seen. She gritted her teeth. She couldn’t think about him now, not when she needed to focus, to survive.

The dagger was in her boot. She would need to cut her own rope first, then Drake’s.

The intention had been laid out and was ready to be acted on. But that was before the rope was pulled taut and her body weight was hung by the frailty of her neck.

Pain.

There was so much pain.

Even having been raised gently, the ache at her throat was stunning. Her feet kicked to find solid ground but met only air, and each shift in movement caused the rope to tighten around her neck, squeezing, digging. So much pain.

Tears blurred her vision and panic swept through her mind, threatening to wipe away her carefully thought-out strategy. Her hands jerked and the ropes slipped free, an action done in her body’s desperate attempt to live. But it was the reminder she needed.

To save herself. To save Drake.

She drew up her right leg, plunged her hand into the side of her boot and withdrew the sheathed dagger. The world began to grow dim and shouting echoed around her. Shouting.

She could be caught.

Panic consumed everything else and pushed her further into action. She ripped the sheath from the dagger and yanked on the rope around her neck. It hardly gave at all with her weight pulling it snug, but it was enough for a blade to fit between. She shoved the dagger with the blade toward the rope and sliced outward.

The pressure on her neck abated and she fell hard to the ground. She wanted to gasp breath into her burning throat, to taste the sweetness of fresh air filling her lungs once more. But there was no time for even that. Her captors were already leaping toward her and Drake—

Choking, she lurched to her feet and sliced at the rope stretched in front of her from which Drake hung. He dropped like a sack of grain.

“The horse,” she rasped. The two simple words were like fire to her raw throat. Drake quickly staggered to his feet as Anice had, and together they ran toward a nearby horse.

The reivers were nearly on top of them now, swords brandished. Drake grabbed her and threw her onto the horse. A man raised his blade. Drake’s back was to them, vulnerable to attack in his desperation to escape, to save her. Anice aimed her dagger and let it fly as the man began to bring down his weapon.