Rise of a Legend (Guardian of Scotland Book 1) by Amy Jarecki Page B

“I will do everything to bring back the truth.” She shook her fist. “You know what I’ve been through. You know how much I need this story. And most of all, you picked me because I will obey your code of honor. I swear this on my life!”
    A bolt of lightning turned the sky above pure white. Eva threw up her hands as the brilliant light transformed into utter darkness. This time her heart soared at the piercingly agonizing noise and the sensation of falling through a bottomless abyss.
    With a sudden rush that nearly burst her eardrums, Eva found herself against the torture chamber wall, looking at Sheriff Heselrig’s back—the same image she’d seen when she blinked.
    Holy shit!
    He regarded the battleax just as he had before everything went black…but Eva’s hands were no longer bound.

Chapter Ten
     
     
    Dripping wet, she tugged on the satchel strap to conceal the bag in the small of her back. Eva hadn’t thought through exactly what might happen when she returned. She’d kind of assumed she might arrive in a dungeon cell. The last time she’d hurtled through time, she’d landed in the midst of life-threatening danger. Why on earth would she have anticipated differently now?
    When Heselrig set down the unbelievably sharp battleaxe, Eva exhaled. She could only think of one thing he might do with that weapon and she was pretty sure head severing was involved. Regardless of her fear of sharp objects, now that she’d returned, she refused to allow terror to control her mind—the hard knot in her gut insisted this was not her time to die. She inched toward a dagger hanging in a line of weapons on the wall.
    “Let me see,” he said. “I think I’d like to take my time with this one—young women always provide such interesting sport—and ye will be all the more entertaining when I hold court in the town square on the morrow.”
    She took in an inhale—good, he didn’t plan to kill her immediately. Eva slid the knife from its peg and hid it behind her back.
    The sheriff spun around. “What was that?”
    Jeez, I barely made a noise . She knitted her eyebrows. “Pardon me, sir?”
    He chuckled and sauntered toward her, his neck craning so he could look her in the eye. “Ye might be certain of yourself now wench, but I assure ye, I’ll have ye singing the bastard’s name from the bell tower by the time I’m done.”
    Eva tightened her grip around the knife’s hilt.
    He held up a pair of shears and grinned like Batman’s Jester. “We’ll start with these.”
    He yanked her veil from her head, then jerked away. Sucking in a gasp, he gaped at her in horror. “Miserable bleating wretch! I should have known someone might have already taken the shears to ye.”
    Then Heselrig narrowed his eyes, his initial shock replaced by a sneer. He fingered a lock of her hair—the veil had kept it dry. “What did ye do to earn this shearing? I’ll wager ye’re keeping company with more than one scoundrel dog.”
    Eva jerked her head aside, making her hair slip from his fingers. Her gut lost a bit of verve and clamped with terror. She needed to keep the sheriff talking—anything to prevent him from doing something unconscionable. “I-if I tell you his name, will you let me go?”
    Lunging, his hands shot out and trapped her against the wall, his foul breath wafted up to her nose. “Ye’ve broken the law, for that ye must be punished.”
    She looked down at his beady eyes—black and without a hint of compassion. “But I thought a man like you might be a better negotiator,” she baited him. “Telling me I’ll pay penance regardless does nothing to loosen my tongue.”
    “Ye are a wicked bitch.” With a sickly chuckle, he ground his crotch against her thigh. “Clearly ye’re not daft.” He inclined his head toward the table of torture devices behind. “If ye hold your tongue, the pain ye’ll endure will be far worse.”
    Eva swallowed, perspiration prickling her brow. Though the man was shorter, he