Heart's Thief (Highland Bodyguards, Book 2) (14 page)

“Nay!”

Before she knew what she was doing, Sabine darted around Ruith to confront Miles.

Colin’s hand shot around her waist and held her back.

“Sabine, get behind me,” Colin commanded.

“Miles, what is this?” she demanded, ignoring Colin. Her gaze jerked between Miles, sitting calmly atop his horse, and the two brutes who were slowly dismounting at his sides.

Miles leveled her with a flat stare.

“Are you truly surprised? You were compromised. Fabian cannot risk exposure.” Miles’s dark eyes flicked a glance at where Colin stood behind her, still gripping her waist with one hand as the other reached for the sword that was strapped to Ruith’s saddlebags.

“He…he always said that if I was found out in the field, or ran into any trouble, I would simply have to find him again.” Sabine’s voice echoed through her ears, suddenly sounding naïve and childish.

Miles snorted softly. “Aye, I can see how he’d want you to think that, pet that you are to him. But you’ve been playing with the adults long enough to figure out the truth by now.”

Sickness roiled in her stomach and up the back of her throat as an agonizing realization dawned.

“He…he ordered you to kill me?”

“Aye.”

“Because I was compromised in the field.”

Miles nodded again. One of the brutes cracked his knuckles loudly, as if to make his impatience known.

“And…and that is all?”

She hated the sound of her small, weak voice in that moment, hated the gaping emptiness that opened around her.

“Aye, that is all.”

How could that be all? She’d given her life to Fabian, and he was this quick to discard her? She risked herself with every assignment. She’d been blindly loyal to him even when he lashed out at her. By God, she’d even defended Fabian to Colin.

Fabian cares for me.

He would never abandon me.

Her own words revealed her foolishness, her error in trusting and believing in Fabian.

The carefully ordered pieces of her life—her training from street urchin to skilled thief, her assignments proudly accomplished, her unfailing loyalty to Fabian—scattered and crumbled like naught more than dead leaves in a wintery wind.

She had been wrong—about everything. Her whole life was one long, unbroken lie—until this moment, when the truth rent her heart as sure as a sword.

The truth was, Fabian didn’t care for her. Had he ever? If he could order her death just to protect against the threat of exposure, mayhap even his rare kindnesses had been a lie, a manipulation.

And she’d huddled in the palm of his hand at every step, desperate for a sliver of affection, afraid of being abandoned all over again.

The forest spun around her. Rain splattered her face, but it did not lift her from her torpor. Distantly, she registered that she’d sagged against Colin’s solid body.

“No games,” Miles was saying, his voice sounding far away. “You understand, Rollo? Rabbie? No toying with them. Just be quick about it.”

Colin shook her. “Stay with me, lass.”

Though blackness encroached at the edges of her mind, Sabine dragged herself back to nightmarish reality.

When her eyes focused once more, she found the brutes, Rabbie and Rollo, stalking toward them slowly. Colin brandished his unsheathed sword in front of her, making a barrier of steel between her and the thugs.

“Can ye stand?” Colin said, never taking his gaze from the approaching warriors.

“Aye.”

“Then get behind me and stay there until I tell ye otherwise.” His voice was firm yet calm. He loosened his grasp on her waist and she hurried to obey him.

Some of his composure seeped into her, and her mind unknotted slightly. All that existed was this heartbeat, then the next as the warriors closed in on them. Rain rustled the leaves all around them, making the whole forest seem alive.

She’d never truly been in a battle before. It was usually her way to avoid direct confrontation. Yet Colin’s sudden calm and clarity was a comfort to her ragged nerves—until one of the brutes yanked his sword from its sheath on his back and launched himself at Colin.

Then everything came undone with horrifying suddenness.

Colin blocked the blow, the clang of the two blades echoed by another clap of thunder. Sabine had to leap out of the way as one of the twin warriors shoved Colin back.

He recovered quickly, but he only just had time to sidestep the other warrior’s attack.

This was naught like the skirmish she’d witnessed in the stables. Then, Colin had moved with lethal grace, yet he’d inflicted no more damage than a broken nose.

Now, all three of the men fought savagely. Each blow was delivered with fearsome strength and deadly intent, and every narrow evasion saved a man’s life.

The two brutes tried to circle him, splitting up in an attempt to separate her from Colin. His blade darted out like a snake, first at one and then at the other, forcing them in front of him.

One of the giants launched another attack, his blade illuminating in the flash of lightning overhead. Colin caught the edge of the sword with his own, then twisted his wrist so that he bound the other blade with his.

He pinned the first brute’s sword to the ground, but just then the other charged, blade aimed at Colin’s chest.

Colin just barely arched out of the sword’s path. The blade passed by him without making contact, but the second giant still barreled toward him. Colin took a shoulder to the chest and tumbled backward.

A wordless scream of terror ripped from Sabine’s throat as she flung herself out of the way of Colin’s careening body. He landed on the ground with a grunt but had no time to recover his footing, for the brutes set upon him once more.

He rolled just as one of the warriors’ blades sank into the muddy ground where his head had been a heartbeat before.

“Get on Ruith’s back!” he barked even as he regained his feet, blocking another blow.

Sabine scrambled through the mud and leaves toward the black steed, but even as she gained ground, she caught sight of Miles moving in on her. He reined his horse around the bristling melee made by Colin and the twin warriors as they fought on, angling himself toward Sabine.

Just as she reached Ruith, Miles loomed over her, drawing a short blade from his boot.

“Miles, nay!” she cried, stumbling back against Ruith’s saddlebags.

Her plea was met with a flat, uncaring stare that chilled her very soul.

As he raised his dagger, an idea exploded through her mind. She dove a hand into the saddlebag behind her. When her fingers closed around the heavy sheath of her dagger, she yanked it free.

She lifted the dagger, still sheathed, over her head just as Miles’s blade came down.

Reverberations from the impact of the blow traveled all the way down her good arm and into her hurt shoulder. Still, she’d managed to keep Miles’s dagger from cleaving her skull in two.

He snarled in frustration, drawing back for another attack. Instinctively, Sabine dropped, rolling under Ruith’s belly.

Miles growled again at her evasion, his horse stepping wildly as he yanked on the reins.

Frightened that Ruith would spook as well and trample her, she continued her roll, coming to her feet on the other side of the huge stallion.

Just then, a heart-stopping bellow tore through the forest. Sabine’s throat seized as fear for Colin lanced her, but when her eyes found him, he was dragging his blade from one of the twins’ chests.

The other giant warrior roared with rage.

“You killed my brother! You’ll pay, you bloody bastard, I swear it!”

As the brute launched himself with renewed energy at Colin, Sabine’s attention was jerked back to Miles when he cursed softly.

His gaze was still locked on Colin and the remaining twin as they circled each other slowly.

Trembling, Sabine wrapped one hand around the gilded sheath and gripped the dagger’s handle with the other. Her left arm was still so cursedly weak. She gritted her teeth, willing her injured arm to cooperate.

Her left shoulder throbbing in protest, she at last managed to unsheathe the dagger. She ducked under Ruith’s belly again, hoping the well-trained warhorse remained steady.

When she’d cleared the horse’s belly, she jerked to her feet, dagger raised at Miles.

He started at her sudden appearance, tearing his gaze away from Colin and the warrior. Before he could react, though, she jammed the dagger deep into his thigh.

Miles screamed and kicked out, connecting with her stomach. She was thrown back, the dagger going with her in her tight grasp.

Sabine slumped against Ruith’s side and fell to the ground. This time, the stallion could not help but dance sideways, nickering in distress. Miles’s horse was even more spooked. It sidestepped and tossed its head, its hooves stomping toward Sabine.

She screamed again, flinging herself farther under Ruith.

“Sabine!”

Colin’s ragged shout was filled with terror, but at least it meant he was still alive.

As she rolled away from both horses, amazingly avoiding all eight hooves, Colin roared a fierce battle cry. His war cry was quickly followed by the strangled scream of the other warrior.

She looked up to find blood spurting from the giant’s neck as he toppled backward. Colin was already sprinting toward her, his blade dripping with dark blood and rainwater.

He hardly slowed when he scooped her up, still barreling toward Ruith. When he reached the stallion, he slammed his sword into its sheath and tossed her onto Ruith’s back.

Colin launched himself into the saddle behind her. At that moment, Miles’s horse reared wildly, flinging him to the ground in an unnaturally-shaped heap. Miles’s scream was cut off by a low, sickening crunch.

She could not tell if Miles was still alive, for Colin spurred Ruith forward hard. The stallion exploded into a gallop at his master’s command, crashing through the rain-drenched forest.

Sabine dared one glance behind them as they plowed onward. A flash of lightning illuminated the darkening woods, but all she saw was the gnarled outlines of the trees as they sprinted away.

A roiling fog of emotion clouded Colin’s mind as he drove Ruith on. He could hardly feel the cold, pelting rain or the dull, distant aches in his body. Even Sabine’s slight form before him in the saddle barely cut through the storm in his own head.

And what must she be feeling? She huddled against him, her body yielding to the arm he’d wrapped around her waist to hold her steady in their desperate flight west.

Her master—the bastard’s name was Fabian—had tried to have her killed. The man she’d devoted herself to so completely, despite his cruelty to her, had abandoned her like so much refuse.

As Ruith galloped beneath him, the harsh words he’d spoken to Sabine drifted back. He’d pushed her away after indulging in his lust, coward that he was. Then he’d thought to throw her devotion to Fabian in her face.

She’d been so sure of Fabian’s loyalty to her, of his caring for her, when she’d lashed back at Colin. He’d seen the deeper fear in her eyes, though. Fear of being abandoned again, like she was as a child.

Aye, Colin had abandoned her in turning so cold and distant after their morning of shared pleasure. He’d been too tangled in his own confusion over what they’d done to realize that he was hurting her.

But far worse, Fabian had forsaken her as well—the one person in whom she’d placed all the innocent faith of an orphaned child. The one person she said had ever cared about her.

Yet if Colin faced the pain and fear he’d fled from this morning, there was no denying the truth. Despite Fabian’s desertion, Sabine was not alone, nor was she uncared for.

Colin pushed down the fresh swell of confusion that thought produced. He cared for a bloody spying, thieving Englishwoman—and he, one of King Robert the Bruce’s fiercest warriors, a member of the Bodyguard Corps sworn to protect Scotland from all English threats.

Yet he couldn’t be a coward any longer, by God. Aye, he’d made a damned fine mess of things, but he could no longer flee from his feelings for Sabine. She had to know that she was not alone, especially now.

But first, he had to get her to safety.

Ruith slowed, and Colin silently cursed himself. Bloody hell, he wouldn’t be able to whisk Sabine away from danger if he ran his faithful stallion into the ground.

He reined Ruith in and let the animal catch his breath. They stood in a little clearing within the denser woods all around. Blessedly, the rain began to lighten, though dark clouds obscured the moon and thunder still rolled in the distance.

“Sabine,” he murmured softly.

She jumped in his hold as if she’d only just now noticed they’d stopped.

Carefully, he untangled his arm from around her waist and slid from Ruith’s back. He dropped the reins so that the horse could lower his head, still panting heavily.

When he looked up at Sabine, sharp fear lanced him.

She was in worse shape than he’d thought. The hood of her cloak hung uselessly down her back, her dark hair streaming with rainwater. Her gaze was fastened forward, a vacant look in her eyes.

The shaking of her hands drew his attention. He sucked in a breath at what she held.

Clutched in one hand was the elaborately gilded sheath for her dagger. In the other, she gripped the dagger’s hilt, her knuckles white. The blade was darkened with blood.

“Sabine,” he said gently. He slowly reached for her hands, wrapping each one in a tender grip. “It is over, lass. Ye can put the dagger away now.”

Her head jerked and her wide-eyed gaze landed on him.

“Miles…I stabbed Miles in the leg.” Her bottom lip trembled as she spoke, her tone distant and disbelieving.

“Aye, lass,” Colin said quietly. “And ye likely saved yer life by doing so. Did ye…did ye see what happened to him?”

He wanted to go gentle with her, but he needed to know. The two giants who’d attacked him were both dead, he was certain. Yet he’d been so caught up in battling them that he’d failed to protect Sabine from Miles. He’d seen the man fall from his horse, but little else.

Sabine shook her head slowly. “His horse threw him. He went down in a pile that looked—”

She swallowed hard, squeezing her eyes shut. After a steadying breath, she managed to go on.

“I didn’t see him move, but nor do I know if he is dead.”

Carefully, he took the dagger and sheath from her trembling hands. He dragged the blade in the damp grass at his feet, then wiped away the rainwater on his breeches. When the dagger was securely back in its sheath, he extended it to her.

“Why dinnae ye hold on to that for now, lass.”

She nodded numbly and tucked the dagger away in the folds of her wet, mud-covered dress.

“Will others come if Miles doesnae?”

Sabine’s brows lifted in desperation. “Fabian is not one to leave loose ends.”

“We’d better keep moving,” he said quietly, scanning the meadow.

When he turned back to Sabine, silent tears mingled with the trickling droplets of rain on her cheeks.

He touched her gently, as if soothing a wounded animal. Cupping her cheeks, he turned her face toward him and tilted her chin down so that their eyes met.

“Sabine, listen to me. Ye are strong, lass. Ye will get through this. And I will help ye, I swear. We must get to safety now, but once we are on a boat, I promise to do everything I can to take away the pain.”

Her distant gaze clouded with confusion at the mention of a boat, but she didn’t ask about it. Colin took that as a sign of just how deep and dark the despair that had swallowed her was.

He caught up the reins and mounted behind her, urging the wearied Ruith on once again. He couldn’t be sure how far they’d ridden in their flight from Fabian’s men, but at least he could tell by the mountains that rose distantly beyond the trees off his right shoulder that they were still traveling west.

When they’d stopped before the storm had arrived, he’d planned to hunker down for the night, then continue on to Portpatrick with the hope of reaching the little port town on the morrow. But now with the threat of another attack on their heels, there was no time to rest.

He held Sabine close as the trees blurred in a dark mass around them. By God, so much had changed in the last sennight. He’d gone from fighting at the Bruce’s side to take Carlisle to playing nanny goat to Osborn, then he’d become the keeper of the beautiful but secretive English spy who was currently enfolded in his arms.

And now it appeared as though he was needed as a bodyguard after all, though he never would have imagined that he’d be applying his skills to protect the very thief who threatened the security of his King’s correspondence.

If he were still attempting to deny his feelings for Sabine, he could justify beating back Fabian’s thugs as necessary to his mission. The Bruce had sent him not only to deliver the missive to his brother, but also to ferret out those behind the compromise in his chain of communication. He’d found Sabine and still needed to deliver her to the Bruce so that the King could determine what to do with her, and what information she could provide on Fabian’s organization.

Yet he could not pretend neutrality toward Sabine any longer. He’d acted on instinct alone when Miles and the two giant brutes had threatened her. And he knew deep in his chest that he would place himself between Sabine and anyone who dared attempt to hurt her again.

That realization drew his stomach into a tight knot. Aye, he’d broken his vow and allowed himself to care for another woman after Joan—and another woman who was a skilled deceiver. But it was too late to throw up his defenses now. Sabine needed him.

Distant flickering lights pulled him away from his churning thoughts. The pinpricks of yellow light stood out against a backdrop of unbroken darkness. It had to be the tiny village of Portpatrick, set against the night-black sea.

Now Colin could only pray that he could get them on a boat to Ireland before Fabian’s men could track them down once more.