They traveled a good distance but were unable to outrun the rain. Laurin trembled near violently, as the rain beat down, stinging her cheeks and bare skin. Her chemise clung to her skin, as did her dripping hair.

Sharp pains radiated from her wrists, which were bound tightly together with strips of leather. Helmert had bound them as soon as he had tossed her atop the horse.

Silently, she prayed that Albert and his brothers would come for her, would rescue her once again from these evil men. But the closer they drew to Stornaway, the more her hope dwindled.

’Twould be some time before the sun rose again. Even as dark as it was, she knew where they were going and it terrified her. If they succeeded in getting her on a boat and back to MacAdams land, her life was over. Even if Graeme agreed to exchange her life for the Gladius, her life was no longer her own. She would once again be nothing more than a prisoner to Helmert and Clarence. Theirs to do with as they pleased, just as it had been for years.

A small voice began to warn that if she allowed them to get her to Stornaway and onto a boat, she’d not survive more than a few days. Oh, they would keep her alive until they either got the sword or realized Josephine wasn’t giving it up. Either way, her days were numbered.

And what hell and torment would they put her through in the meantime?

Memories of them on top of her, slapping her, taunting her, came crashing through. The countless times they had taken their turns with her and left her in a heap of sobs, only to come back the next night to do it again.

From somewhere deep within, she found at least the courage to try to think of a way out of her current situation. Under no circumstances could she allow them to get her on that boat.

Her mind raced, trying to come up with a solution. She could feign illness, fall from her horse and run as fast as she could for cover. Nay, they would surely catch her before she could make her way to the trees.

The damp cold seeped into her bones as her teeth chattered. There had to be a way out. There just had to be.

Cloaked in darkness, with no moon nor stars, ’twas difficult for them to make their way across these strange lands. Laurin was thankful for the slow pace for it gave her time to plan her escape.

It didn’t matter if she failed or not. A failed escape, even if it meant risking her own neck, was better than what lay in store. Nay, death was preferable to that.

They stopped at the base of a large hill. Clarence was cursing the land, the weather, and the darkness, taking his vengeance out on anyone within earshot. Helmert’s silence was more than unsettling.

The clouds had rolled on, taking with them the rain. A strong breeze came in on the heels of the storm.

“We’ve already been this way once!” Clarence shouted. “We need to head east!”

’Twas next to impossible to tell which way was which, but no one had the courage to tell him.

“Mayhap we should wait until sunrise,” one of the men suggested.

Helmert finally spoke. “And risk the MacAulays catchin’ up to us?” he shot out sharply. “Verra well. If anyone here wishes to make a wee camp, start a fire, warm their bones, and wait to be slaughtered by Graeme MacAulay and his family, then by all means, wait here.” His words dripped with sarcasm.

Clarence was beside Laurin, holding the reins of her horse. He was mumbling under his breath, cursing these lands, paying very little attention to her. Wallowing in his own self-pity, he hadn’t paid attention as the rest of the men pulled away from them to follow Helmert.

She knew exactly where Clarence kept his dirk; sheathed on the right side of his belt. Just inches away and very much within her reach.

Had she moved too quickly, the other men would have been close enough to hear. Had she hesitated too long, she would have missed her opportunity.

Either through divine intervention or sheer luck, she moved at just the right time.

Slowly, with her bound hands, she reached out and felt the handle of his dirk. So lost he was in his own mind, he didn’t realize what was happening until it was too late.

Swiftly, she grabbed the dirk, and with both hands, drew upward, then down, thrusting the blade into his upper chest with as much force as she could manage.

Caught off guard, and then in a good deal of pain, he let go of the reins, too stunned to speak or cry out. Still holding the knife in one hand, she leaned forward, grabbed the reins, and kicked the flanks of her mount. All in the span of a few rapidly pounding heartbeats.

Breathing heavily, fear spiking up and down her spine, her stomach knotted with fear, she pushed forward and away from the men. Holding the reins and knife with a deathlike grip, she kicked her mount’s flanks again, urging him forward, flying across the land.

She had no idea where she was or in what direction the keep lay. All she knew with any certainty was that she had to get away and quickly, before anyone realized what she’d done. She would ride her horse right into the ocean if she had to, for she no longer cared.

Mud kicked up from the horse’s hoofs splattered her feet, legs and chemise. Racing across the land, over the next hill, the wind bit through rain-soaked fabric, but she ignored it. She could barely hear the shouts of angry men through the blood rushing in her ears, her heart pounding against her breast.

Sorely outnumbered, she had only one thing to her advantage at the moment: her sheer will and determination to remain alive.

She dared not look back to see if the distance between her and Helmert’s men had increased or shortened. With unmitigated desperation, she urged the horse on, faster and faster, through the falling evening.

Unable to see anything clearly, she could only feel herself going up one hill then down the other side. Praying the horse’s instincts were better than her own, she gave him full rein, allowing him to lead the way while she begged him to go faster.

Soon, they were crashing through a thicket of trees. The horse slowed ever so slightly as low hanging branches scratched against her skin. Like ghostly arms with sharp claws for fingers trying to hold her back. Crouching low over her mount’s neck, she begged and pleaded with him to hurry, prayed that he would take her home, or at the very least, to safety.

Much to her great relief, they made their way out of the forest. She could still hear the men shouting behind her, cursing loudly, making bold promises of what they were going to do once they caught up to her.

Ignoring them, she tried tamping down the lamentable fear, refusing to give up her endeavor to flee. The landscape soon changed and her mount all but stopped. Urging him forward with her feet and pleas, he snorted, jangling bit and rein before taking cautious steps forward. Soon, she realized they were heading down a very steep embankment. She could not remember going this way earlier and dread crept in again.

Once they reached flat land, the horse splashed through a deep stream, lunging forward. Her feet plunged under the frigid water for long moments before the horse lunged forward once again, up and out and back on dry land.

He struggled up the small hill, but once the land flattened out, he was off at a full run once again. Glancing first to her left, then to her right. Ahead, nothing but a purple sky at gloaming, to her left, the sun sinking lower. It was just enough to tell her she was heading north.

The MacAulay keep was northwest of Stornaway and that was about all she knew. With no idea where she currently was, she could only hope that by veering west she would eventually make it to their keep.

Though sunlight would have allowed her a better glimpse at where she was, the dimness currently acted as a welcome shield. Hopefully, they would soon lose sight of her and where she was heading.

The horse was beginning to slow, pushed too far and too fast this night. She had the sensation they were traveling across a glen. Chancing a glance over her shoulder to see how close her pursuers were, she found no relief. They were still charging behind her.

Looking forward, she did not see the felled tree until it was too late. The horse spooked, came to an abrupt halt before rearing. She tried hanging on, but her hands were soaked in sweat and she lost her grip on the reins and the knife. The horse reared its head a second time and tossed her to the ground.

She landed on her back with such force the air was knocked clear from her lungs. Pain radiated up and down her spine as she sank into the cold mud.

Gasping for breath, she struggled to roll over, clawing at the wet earth, unable to find purchase. No matter how hard she tried, she could not get to her feet.

Enveloped in sheer terror and in a good deal of pain, she rolled to her belly. Seemingly out of nowhere, two strong hands grabbed her around the waist and pulled her up.

Horrified, she took in a deep breath, but before she could let loose the blood-curdling scream, one hand clamped over her mouth.

Then she heard a familiar voice whisper into her ears. “Wheest, lass!”

Albert!