The branches of the trees caught on Ryan’s kilt as he moved further into the forest. It didn’t slow him down; his mind was too focused on finding Margaret. With each step he took, the sunlight became dimmer and dimmer, and he was sure that even if his wifedidsee a deer, she wouldn’t have gone this far alone. Aaron kept several paces behind him, poised to assist if they came upon any danger.
Despite wantingto barrel through the area, Ryan stopped when he spotted broken saplings. He knew he’d save himself time if he properly tracked Margaret. Slowing down now would buy them precious time later.
Ryan squattedin front of the plants, taking in their appearance. The dirt around the saplings was trampled, and when he kneeled closer, he was able to make out a footprint. It was a man’s, much larger than Margaret’s, and it was pointing to the south.
“We’re goingin the right direction,” he said under his breath, taking in the landscape and determining the most likely path they’d taken. “This way.”
In Ryan’stime as Aaron’s right-hand man, he had become one of the most reliable trackers in the clan. Noticing the way the leaves bent was second nature to him. He was able to tell which parts of the earth had been recently disturbed and never second-guessed himself. It was well known that he’d never been wrong about something like this.
So,as he proceeded in the direction he was sure that Margaret had been taken, Aaron followed without question.
After a few momentsof trekking through the woods and following the broken branches, the distinct sounds of struggle reached Ryan’s ears. His body went rigid, and he grasped the hilt of his dagger, readying himself for the confrontation that was approaching. Behind him, Aaron did the same.
They approached slowly,careful not to give away their position. The last thing Ryan needed was for whoever had Margaret to act rashly. One wrong move, and he could lose the woman who made him feel worthy of love.
“Get on!”
A sharp,angry English accent pierced the relative quiet of the surrounding area, and beneath it were distressed feminine shouts. It had to be Margaret, and, if he was correct in his assumption, the bastard that had her was Duke Cunningham.
But how didthat dobber find her? Was it the letters? Did he truly intercept them as Margaret had feared?
When the pairfinally came into view, rage consumed every bit of Ryan’s being. An ugly man, red-faced and sickly thin, was attempting to force Margaret onto a nervous horse. She was attempting to get away, and the horse was stomping as though trying to discourage the attempted abduction.
The man touchedher as though she were familiar to him, or perhaps it would be more apt to say that he touched her as if she belonged to him. His hands grabbed tightly onto her hips, pushing her upward. He growled, fighting to get her to behave, but she seemed to be holding her own.
A knife was thrownto the side, about a meter away from where the struggle was taking place. Margaret fought against the man, letting out grunts with each kick of her legs and swing of her arms. While she seemed unable to get away from him, she was keeping the man from abducting her.
“If ye value yer life,ye’ll let her go,” Ryan growled.
He rushed forward,and at the same time, Margaret landed a blow against the man’s head with her elbow. If he didn’t know any better, Ryan would have thought that she had trained for situations like this. Her instincts were sharp, and she created an opening for herself.
The man released her,stumbling to the side and clutching the injury. He cursed under his breath as he attempted to righthimself. Margaret, sensing her opportunity to escape, turned to run.
Her eyes locked with Ryan,and the entire scene seemed to stop. Then, relief flooded her delicate features. She looked at him as though he were the answer to her prayers.
Given the circumstances,Ryan was fairly certain that he was.
Margaret took off after a beat,her feet kicking up fallen leaves as she ran to the safety of his arms. Ryan caught her easily, one hand coming up to cradle the back of her head as the other wrapped around her waist, keeping his dagger carefully pointed away from her. She took long, gasping breaths, seeking comfort from his solidness.
“Ryan!”she exclaimed, her voice worn from the screaming she’d no doubt been doing. “Ryan, that’s?—”
“Ye’re nae hurt, aye?”Ryan asked, keeping his eyes on the man who was slowly straightening out. His only concern at the moment was her safety.
“No, no. I… He tried—”
“Go hide,Margaret. I’ll take care of this bastard, but ye need to get yerself out of harm’s way.”
She nodded onceagainst his chest before he released her. As she scurried out of sight, she yelled, “Be careful, Ryan. That’s the man I was running from.”
Ach,so I was right. That’s Duke Cunningham.
“Aaron,I need ye to make sure he doesnae have any other men stationed in the forest,” Ryan ordered, taking a step toward the Duke. The man was finally getting his bearings and setting his sights on Ryan. “I wouldnae put it past this bampot to have brought reinforcements.”
“Aye,”Aaron responded before taking off, using the cover of the trees to keep himself from being spotted.
The Dukeslowly reoriented himself to the area. He put one hand on his horse, his eyes finding Ryan easily. A sneer spread across his face, showing off a row of crooked, yellow teeth.
“How dare ye touch me wife?”Ryan growled, lifting his dagger. “Ye came to me land and tried to abduct me wife? Did ye think this would end well for ye?”