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Robbie clicked his tongue and nudged Zeus with his heels. The stallion began to pick his way downhill.
Their quarry was in clear view now, and the pursuers were edging closer. They were near enough for Robbie to see that not all the warriors sported the Fenwick plaid. Almost in disbelief, he recognised his own colours and the traitor who wore them. The king saw too and sent a sympathetic glance in Robbie’s direction. Kin was everything. If a man could not trust his own blood, then who?
Robbie had no use for sympathy, but he would have vengeance. He glared at his cousin, the man who had so viciously betrayed him and their clan.
I should have killed him when I had the opportunity. It is a mistake I shall not make again.
He was also able to make out the bound figure rolling back and forth in the cart. He could not see clearly if Katherine was hurt, or if so, how badly, because her head and shoulders were covered by a sack, but he took reassurance from the knowledge that she appeared to be alive still.
The bastards will pay for this. For every bruise, every scratch, every precious drop of my wife’s blood.
Despite the temptation to charge after the abductors and snatch his wife from their clutches, Robbie slowed his headlong pace. They were gaining on the Fenwicks, slowly but steadily, and he was determined not to announce their presence and afford his adversary any opportunity to prepare for the attack. If the Fenwicks realised they had been pursued, it was likely their first act would be to murder Kat. He was not about to give them that chance. It was enough for now to keep them in sight and note where they chose to set up their camp.
Then, he would make his move.
“There’s a river about a mile ahead of them, and some shelter in the woodland. ’Tis likely they will stop there,” James muttered.
Robbie nodded. He was already anticipating the same thing. “We would do better to approach from the south. We will be hidden by the trees, unless they post lookouts.”
“We shall see if they do,” the king replied.
It was true. Robbie and James were on much higher ground, with a perfect view of the unsuspecting men below. Unless the Fenwicks turned around to check, they would have no idea that they were being watched.
It would seem they were much too intent upon making themselves comfortable for the night and getting fed. No one thought to glance back.
Satisfied that lookouts would not present an additional complication, Robbie veered to his right, using the rising and falling terrain to shield him and the rest of the men from view. James allowed him to lead the way. They were able to draw close, concealed by the gathering darkness and the very pines under which the Fenwicks sought shelter.
Robbie signalled for silence and for all to dismount. They could approach more stealthily on foot. In hushed tones, he commanded the men to fan out in order to prevent any chance of their quarry slipping away through the trees. He was not about to let any one of these murderous bastards escape his vengeance.
“We need to make sure they cannot get to their horses, once we move in.” James crouched beside Robbie in the bracken, grinning. “You.” He tapped the man closest to him on the arm. “Make your way to where the animals are tethered. As soon as we attack, release them and send them off. A nice stampede, if ye will.”
The man nodded. “Aye, Your Majesty.” He crept off into the undergrowth, a dagger clamped between his teeth ready to slice through the tethers.
Robbie nodded, satisfied. He waited a few moments to allow the rest of the men to get in position, then gave a low whistle. As one, they moved forward into the dense stand of Scots pines.
Voices drifted on the cool evening air, and laughter. The sound of men at their ease, enjoying themselves, even.
Robbie gritted his teeth, his temper hanging by a thread. Soon, these whoresons would have nothing to laugh about.
He stiffened when a woman’s shrill scream split the air. He would have bounded forward but for the king’s restraining hand on his arm.
“Hold, Robbie,” James muttered. “We are almost upon them.
“They are hurting her,” he ground out.
“Steady,” the king cautioned, “a few more feet and we shall be able to see what is happening. Then, we shall know how best to attack.”
James was right. Katherine would not be rescued by some blundering fool crashing through the woods and squandering the advantage of surprise. Robbie narrowed his eyes and edged closer, silently, his every nerve ending attuned to the sounds coming from just beyond the next few gnarled tree trunks.
He could see them now. He counted ten men, as well as Angus, and The Fenwick himself. He barely knew Callum Fenwick, had only met the man a handful of times, but he recognised him at once. The laird was strutting about at the back of the cart, addressing his men and gesturing to where Kat knelt.
Angus stood, arms folded, clearly relishing the scene before him.
The sacking had been removed from Katherine’s head. Her eyes were wide, tearful, and her hands were bound behind her. The front of her gown was in tatters. Robbie growled at the sight of Kat’s bared breasts.
The laughter and whistling grew louder, and Kat cringed in a corner of the cart. Angus and the Fenwicks were clearly having a fine time, tormenting and humiliating a helpless, terrified woman. They would all pay richly for their perverse pleasure this day.
One of the men darted forward as though he intended to touch Katherine, but The Fenwick landed a mighty punch on his jaw. The blow sent the youth flying, to land not three paces from where Robbie and James crouched.
