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Alex stared at his bloody hand as he wiped a crimson streak over a handkerchief. She bent over to be sick, but the wave of nausea passed.
"All right, come along. Into the saddle."
By the time he'd dragged her to her feet and led her to Thor, she'd begun to beg. She had no thought of pride or will, she only wanted Collin alive. "Please," she pled. "Don't do this."
"For God's sake, shut your mouth. You always did talk too much."
She pushed up, tried to straddle Collin's saddle, and nearly tumbled to the ground.
"Here. Let me help." His hateful hands pushed up and under her skirts, shoving dress and petticoat to the tops of her thighs. "That should be easier. Taken to wearing drawers, have you?"
She shivered and made herself swallow her cries when his fingers edged underneath the drawers, and she sat forward in the saddle to keep his hand from exploring further. Still, he traced over her, touching flesh still tender from her husband's attention.
"He's been at you already, has he?" The touch lifted from her, thank God. She watched him wipe his wet hand over her skirts, horrified to see the red crescents of horse blood under his nails. "Punishment for running away?"
"No."
"Was he rough with you, Alex dear?" "Shut up."
"Perhaps you like it rough. I wouldn't be surprised."
"Keep your hands off her, you filthy whoreson."
A little scream leapt past her lips, part joy that Collin was alive and part horror that he would antagonize their captor.
"Ah, Blackburn. Happy to have you join us. Hope you can keep your legs under you." With that, he led Thor to his own horse and mounted, leading Brinn as well.
Alex twisted and stretched, trying to guard Collin with her eyes, as if her gaze could keep him safe. He had pushed to his feet, thank God, and stumbled behind them on the trail, blood dripping down his face. She prayed fervently, prayed he would not fall to his knees and be dragged. The trail would shred his legs, and Brinn crept close behind him, hooves like stones waiting to crush.
Thankfully, the trail had grown over with vine and brush and slowed them to a careful wal
k. Collin tried to catch her eye, but he could not look away from his feet for long and Alex could not think well enough to interpret his brief stares.
The smell of crushed fir needles overwhelmed her suddenly, the scent sharp and acrid in her nose, her mouth. She had to turn away from Collin to lean over Thor's neck and retch. She heard the harsh pant of Collin's breath even over her own sickness.
"Almost there," St. Claire called cheerfully a few moments later, voice conveying his absolute pleasure with the situation.
Alex's stomach heaved again, but she forced back the sickness. She must push past the blackness that crept into her vision. Collin could not get them out of this alone.
The sun shone ahead of them, lighting a clearing. The grassy circle was so eerily picturesque that she wanted to weep. A lovely place, and terrible.
This was where he had camped, next to a stream, beneath the shelter of a solitary tree. The sun would warm the air during the day; the tree kept out the wet. It was perfect.
St. Claire led them to the far edge and tied the horses, seeming at ease under Collin's watchful glare. At ease, but not unaware. The click of a cocking pistol snapped through the air.
"Do not move, Alexandra. Blackburn, you come with me."
Collin bit out a Gaelic curse, straining against the jerk of the rope in St. Claire's hands.
"I have your wife at my mercy, bastard."
Collin snapped the rope, pulling free. "We both know you are not planning to let her go."
"Au contraire." The gun rose to stare at Collin's chest. "She will return to Westmore to retrieve her jewels. If she refuses or tries to bring help, I'll kill you."
"Do not listen to him, Alex. He'll kill me anyway."
"Silence! Walk to the tree now or I'll cut off one of her pretty ears." The knife he'd used to kill the horse appeared suddenly in his hand. "She could still function quite nicely sans earlobe, don't you think?"
