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“Follow him and kill him,” commanded one of the guards.
“Nay!” Fia shouted again. She ran to her horse and mounted and rode out of the garden in front of the soldiers. Alastair was just up ahead. As she caught up, more guards led by Branton appeared in the woods, blocking his escape.
“There he is. Just like I told you.” Branton, the traitor, led the way toward the secret garden.
“You should never have left the savage before you were sure he was dead,” snapped George, one of the sentries that had been left to guard the castle while Lord Beaufort and his men went to fight for the king. “Men, finish the job and kill him now.”
“Wait! Dinna hurt him.” Fia rode to Alastair’s side. Alastair was trapped with men all around him and no way to escape. Just as the guards moved toward him, Alastair drew his sword with one hand and reached over and grabbed Fia with the other. He pulled her in front of him atop his horse and held the cold steel to her throat.
“Move aside, or I’ll slit her throat,” spat Alastair.
In too much shock to speak, Fia kept silent. How could Alastair act this way after she’d helped him and trusted him? This couldn’t be happening.
“Lower your blade, Highlander,” commanded another of the guards named Roger.
“Move aside, or I’ll kill her, I swear I will,” shouted Alastair.
“Please dinna let him hurt my sister,” shouted Morag from behind her.
“You aren’t going to hurt her, and we’re not letting you go,” answered George. “It is my job to protect Lord Beaufort’s wards while he is away.”
“If I kill her, ye’ll have the bastard triplets huntin’ ye down like dogs for lettin’ anythin’ happen to her,” said Alastair.
The guard hesitated for a moment and then mumbled something to Roger. He raised his hand in the air. “Let him pass,” commanded George, not wanting to risk it.
With the blade still pressed up against her throat, Alastair directed his horse around the Englishmen and took off at a full gallop.
Fia held on to her crown as they rode away. Glancing over her shoulder, tears formed in her eyes as she saw her sister and cousins crying. Why was Alastair acting this way? She realized he was doing it to save his life. But when the English could no longer be seen behind him, she didn’t understand why he didn’t let her go.
“Release me,” she commanded, struggling against him.
He lowered his blade but held her tightly around her waist. “I canna do that, lass.”
“The guards are no longer followin’ us. Let me down.”
“Nay. Now that I ken who ye are, ye are much too valuable to leave behind.”
“What do ye mean?” she asked. “Is it because my faither is the bastard of the late king?”
“Nay. It is because ye are a stinkin’ Gordon, the clan who was once aligned with the MacPhersons but left to team up with the traitorous Clan Grant instead! The Grants are the ones holdin’ my faither prisoner.”
“I dinna understand.”
“Ye are my assurance that my faither will be set free. A little trade is just what I need.” He slowed the horse and replaced his sword into the sheath strapped to his back. Then he plucked the crown from her head.
“Give me that,” she spat, reaching for the crown, but he wouldn’t release it.
“I think this would be safer off yer head for the trip.” He reached down and shoved the crown into the travel bag. Then his arm closed around her, holding her tightly up against him.
“I’m to be a hostage then?” This thought surprised and appalled her at the same time. Never had she thought she’d be in this position.
“Ye are more than a hostage. Ye are my answer to all my troubles. I’ll no’ only get my faither returned now, but will earn the respect of the rest of my clan.”
“Yer clan doesna care about ye, or they would never have left ye behind.”
“Dinna be so sure about that.” Alastair stopped his horse, looked around, and put his fingers in his mouth and whistled. Out of nowhere, a clan of Highlanders appeared, surrounding him. To her dismay, Brohain and the rest of the escaped prisoners led the way.
