followed,
lass."
"The
soldiers?"
"I don't
think so. I'm not certain yet."
"What'll
we do?"
"Care
to stand and fight?"
She
sent him an incredulous look and he grinned sardonically. "No? Then we'd
best make a run for it and pray their mounts are at least half as weary as
ours." -
He
brought his reins down across the rump of her mare, sending the animal forward
into startled and instant flight. Jonet was almost unseated. She clung to the
saddle as they hurtled through the trees, ducking as wet limbs slapped her face
and tore at her skin. Behind her the woods exploded with the sounds of pursuit
—pounding hoofbeats and the noise of what must have been dozens of animals
crashing through the trees.
Jonet's
fear of the storm had been as nothing to this. Alexander's men were gone and
whatever danger pursued, the two of them would face it alone.
They
plunged on at a dangerous pace and she held her mount doggedly at the heels of
Alexander's fleeing gray. Alexander didn't look back and she kept her eyes
riveted on his broad shoulders, praying she wouldn't be unseated. Far better to
concentrate on keeping her mount in hand and dodging the next low-hanging tree
limb than to think about what might happen if she lost Alexander.
Then
unexpectedly, they burst from the" trees onto a short grassy slope running
down to a streambed. Normally a narrow, gurgling burn, the stream rushed by now
in a rain swollen torrent.
Alexander
sawed back on his reins, making his mount rear in protest. "Can you
swim?" he shouted savagely.
She
stared at him in amazement. "No."
"Oh,
Christ!"
EIGHT
Jonet
spun her mount about to face their pursuers. Contrary to the dozens she
expected, there were only four. The men had spread out and were moving down the
hill toward them. They were dressed in rough clothing, the leader holding one
of the new quick-firing wheel lock dags that made such ideal assassin's
weapons. It was obvious the men weren't English soldiers.
"Listen
to me," Alexander said under his breath. "Keep your mouth shut and no
matter what I do, follow my lead."
That
was all he had time to say, for the men were upon them. Jonet clung to her
reins. Her mouth tasted dry and metallic; her heart lodged somewhere in her
throat. She couldn't have spoken if she'd tried.
"Good
afternoon, gentlemen," Alexander began pleasantly. "It certainly
appears that you have us."
The
man holding the gun grinned. His face was covered with a rough beard and his
narrow eyes were the color of gunpowder. "Aye, it does that."
"My
name is Alexander Elliot, and this is my young nephew, John. We're honest
Scotsmen and mean no harm to you or your men. We're traveling through here
under the protection of the Armstrongs."
"Are
ye now?" The man waved his companions up beside him. " 'Tis a name to
conjure with north o' the border. Means little south, d'ye ken?"
"By
the sound of you, north of the border is where you hail. Have the soldiers
there made life too hot for you?"
The
man grinned again. "A knowin' one, ain't ye?"
"We're
in a bit of that way ourselves," Alexander assured him. "We've no
desire to have a run-in with Scots soldiers. English ones either for that
matter."
"And
would ye be payin' to see that ye dinna have a wee chat with them, man?"
"We
would indeed. Armstrong himself will tell you I'm good for it."
The
man frowned. "Then you've nothing you can give us now? On account, so to
speak."
Alexander
shook his head. "I'm afraid not. We were forced to leave in somewhat of a
hurry."
Jonet
kept her eyes focused on the deadly pistol pointed at Alexander's midsection.
Dear God in heaven, what was he up to? He was fully aware she had several
pieces of fine jewelry. Why not just give the man something if that's what it
took?
The
man waved the gun. "Get down."
Alexander
swung off his horse, motioning for Jonet to do the same. The other three
outlaws were dismounting as well, swords held menacingly in hand.
"Fine
lookin' animals," the man said, waving his gun
lass."
"The
soldiers?"
"I don't
think so. I'm not certain yet."
"What'll
we do?"
"Care
to stand and fight?"
She
sent him an incredulous look and he grinned sardonically. "No? Then we'd
best make a run for it and pray their mounts are at least half as weary as
ours." -
He
brought his reins down across the rump of her mare, sending the animal forward
into startled and instant flight. Jonet was almost unseated. She clung to the
saddle as they hurtled through the trees, ducking as wet limbs slapped her face
and tore at her skin. Behind her the woods exploded with the sounds of pursuit
—pounding hoofbeats and the noise of what must have been dozens of animals
crashing through the trees.
Jonet's
fear of the storm had been as nothing to this. Alexander's men were gone and
whatever danger pursued, the two of them would face it alone.
They
plunged on at a dangerous pace and she held her mount doggedly at the heels of
Alexander's fleeing gray. Alexander didn't look back and she kept her eyes
riveted on his broad shoulders, praying she wouldn't be unseated. Far better to
concentrate on keeping her mount in hand and dodging the next low-hanging tree
limb than to think about what might happen if she lost Alexander.
Then
unexpectedly, they burst from the" trees onto a short grassy slope running
down to a streambed. Normally a narrow, gurgling burn, the stream rushed by now
in a rain swollen torrent.
Alexander
sawed back on his reins, making his mount rear in protest. "Can you
swim?" he shouted savagely.
She
stared at him in amazement. "No."
"Oh,
Christ!"
EIGHT
Jonet
spun her mount about to face their pursuers. Contrary to the dozens she
expected, there were only four. The men had spread out and were moving down the
hill toward them. They were dressed in rough clothing, the leader holding one
of the new quick-firing wheel lock dags that made such ideal assassin's
weapons. It was obvious the men weren't English soldiers.
"Listen
to me," Alexander said under his breath. "Keep your mouth shut and no
matter what I do, follow my lead."
That
was all he had time to say, for the men were upon them. Jonet clung to her
reins. Her mouth tasted dry and metallic; her heart lodged somewhere in her
throat. She couldn't have spoken if she'd tried.
"Good
afternoon, gentlemen," Alexander began pleasantly. "It certainly
appears that you have us."
The
man holding the gun grinned. His face was covered with a rough beard and his
narrow eyes were the color of gunpowder. "Aye, it does that."
"My
name is Alexander Elliot, and this is my young nephew, John. We're honest
Scotsmen and mean no harm to you or your men. We're traveling through here
under the protection of the Armstrongs."
"Are
ye now?" The man waved his companions up beside him. " 'Tis a name to
conjure with north o' the border. Means little south, d'ye ken?"
"By
the sound of you, north of the border is where you hail. Have the soldiers
there made life too hot for you?"
The
man grinned again. "A knowin' one, ain't ye?"
"We're
in a bit of that way ourselves," Alexander assured him. "We've no
desire to have a run-in with Scots soldiers. English ones either for that
matter."
"And
would ye be payin' to see that ye dinna have a wee chat with them, man?"
"We
would indeed. Armstrong himself will tell you I'm good for it."
The
man frowned. "Then you've nothing you can give us now? On account, so to
speak."
Alexander
shook his head. "I'm afraid not. We were forced to leave in somewhat of a
hurry."
Jonet
kept her eyes focused on the deadly pistol pointed at Alexander's midsection.
Dear God in heaven, what was he up to? He was fully aware she had several
pieces of fine jewelry. Why not just give the man something if that's what it
took?
The
man waved the gun. "Get down."
Alexander
swung off his horse, motioning for Jonet to do the same. The other three
outlaws were dismounting as well, swords held menacingly in hand.
"Fine
lookin' animals," the man said, waving his gun
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