Page 66 of Come the Morning

She heard nothing. She waited, her heart racing. Had he found her? No, now there was nothing, nothing at all. Had she imagined the bulk of the man at the cave’s entrance. Had it been a trick of the night, of the moon, of the fear she was feeling?

She closed her eyes, listening.

There, just the slightest sound …

Someone …

Moving. Near her. Carefully, furtively, in the darkness. Coming closer and closer …

If she didn’t breathe, didn’t move, would he see her, or know that she was there?

She caught her breath. She strained to see against the darkness. There was a shape …

Yes, there was someone in the dark space with her, she could hear his breathing, his pulse, the pounding of his heart Closer, closer; this time, he’d kill her.

She could make out his shape. A man, hunched just a few feet from her. He was staring at her through the darkness. Could he see her, had his eyes adjusted so quickly? Oh, God, did she still have an advantage?

In seconds he would be upon her. She knew that she had to strike, and strike surely this time. Fear raced through her like lightning. She had but one chance. In the darkness, she might aim too wildly with her sword. She needed her knife. She reached for it, knowing that she had to sail at him with strength and impetus. If she wounded him, and did not strike surely enough to kill …

He started to move. He had seen her, sensed her, smelled her …

She leapt up with a bloodcurdling cry, her arm raised high for the strike. She flew at him, stabbing downward with all her strength.

He swore, rising opportunely. She missed his throat. Chest armor deflected her blow. She heard a ripping of fabric, but knew instantly that she had missed flesh. Swearing, shrieking, insanely panicked and certain she was about to die, she kicked, scratched, pummeled, and fought. But no matter how powerful and vicious her fight, he managed to battle her down and capture her wrists, and the knife was wrested from her. She wasthrown to the ground, and he was over her, straddling her. She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe …

“Damn you, be done with it!” she spat out. And she waited for a blade to slice her flesh.

CHAPTER12

No blade fell.

“Damn you, be done with it?” came a deep, husky query.

The voice stunned her. She wasn’t about to die—she didn’t think.

She inhaled on a deep breath, shaking. She hadn’t known how dearly she wanted to live.

“Laird … Lion?” she whispered. She still couldn’t see in the darkness, but she was growing very familiar with the sound of his voice, his touch … even his scent.

“Ah,” he murmured dryly, and the suspicion he bore her was heavy on the air. “You didn’t know?”

“Nay, you fool,” she charged him, shaking. He was angry, yes, contemptuous of her, but she was going to live. “I didn’t know it was you, and you should have said something, told me, warned me—”

“Ah.” Now there was the slightest touch of amusement in his voice. “And you would have greeted me differently, knowing it was I? Pardon my confusion, but didn’t you run here to escape me?”

“I thought that you were—that Viking.”

“Which Viking? There are Vikings everywhere. I’ve even been told that I do have Viking in my blood as well, m’lady. And then, of course, we all know that you are Viking.”

“And Scottish.”

“A Viking’s daughter,” he acknowledged.

“Damn you, I thought you were the man who—”

“Abducted you. You didn’t go willingly?”

The sound of his voice was humiliating. “Please,” she murmured, coolly, politely, “if you’re not going to kill me, will you let me up?”