Page 87 of Anice’s Bargain

Her blow struck first. The blade plunged into the reiver’s throat and he dropped at Drake’s feet just as the warrior leapt onto the horse behind her. Anice dug her hands into the mane and the beast galloped in the direction of Werrick Castle.

Already men were at their side on horseback, trying to run them off the straight path to the castle.

It was the first time she had truly looked at her family’s castle since being strung up in the tree. Now, with a moment to spare as they raced to outrun the Grahams, she saw that the portcullis had, in fact, been opened.

“Nay!” The protest croaked weakly from her throat. Certainly nothing could be heard over the two armies preparing for battle. If anyone could actually hear, it was far too late. The portcullis could not be closed in time.

A man to their right edged closer and forced his horse to knock into theirs. Their mount staggered but caught its footing and continued on. An arrow whizzed past and the man fell from his horse, with a white-fletched arrow jutting from his eye.

Catriona.

A glance at the battlements revealed a slender blonde-haired woman armed with only a bow and quiver of arrows. She drew back an arrow and the man to Anice’s left fell. One by one, Anice’s sister cleared the path for them to get to the castle, even as the remainder of the army stormed behind them, rushing forward with the same purpose.

When the shadow of the entryway fell over her and Drake at last, they finally met with hope. They leapt from the horse on trembling legs and were greeted by soldiers pushing them deeper into the depths of Werrick Castle’s bailey as men closed around them in a protective circle.

Catriona’s voice rang out from above, calling to her archers on the battlements to ready their arrows.

“You were not set free?” Anice asked Drake.

“I was.” His words were as roughly spoken as her own from having been hanged. “But the reivers were waiting for me just outside the walls. As if they knew.” He slid her a glance, saying everything his words did not.

He suspected they had been betrayed.

The silent accusation slipped into her gut like a blade. Surely James had not betrayed her. “He gave me the dagger which saved both our lives,” Anice reminded Drake.

His jaw flexed.

“Say your piece,” Anice demanded.

“He did not stop the reivers when ye were hanged.” The skin around Drake’s eyes tightened. “He betrayed us.”

Her heart slammed painfully inside her chest to hear such words aloud. She could not believe them. Not when James had given her the dagger, when they had spent so much time carefully laying out their plan, when he’d told her how he loved her. “Nay.” Her response was determined and resolute.

James would not have betrayed her. But then, where was he? Fear trickled down her spine. She turned back abruptly to the soldiers racing toward the portcullis, once more seeking his face.

“Anice.” Her father’s voice pulled her attention away.

Lord Werrick looked every bit the same as he had when she had left, albeit in his armor. The slender face with hollowed cheekbones, the gentle smile, the kind eyes that were now filling with tears.

“My daughter.” His voice choked off and he rushed to her, arms open.

Anice ran to him as she had when she’d been a girl, eager for his comfort and the safety only a father’s embrace could give.

He held her to him and gave a shuddering exhale. “My girl, I thought I would lose you on this day.”

“You raised us to be stronger than that, Papa,” she said into his chest.

Her father drew back and took her face between his hands. His palms were cool and eased the blazing heat of her face. “I’ve never been gladder for it.” He turned to Drake and nodded. “I am indebted to you yet again. Get you both inside where it is safe. Isla is at the ready for the wounded and can tend to you with haste.”

At the front of the bailey, shouting rose and the unmistakable clatter of armed men slamming into one another shattered the still air. The battle had begun.

Drake’s shoulders fell at the command. He glanced back to the melee with apparent regret, but dutifully nodded his assent.

“Nay,” Anice said forcefully. “Laird Graham lied to us all.”

And James was somewhere in that mass of men.

She could feel him, sense him in that crush of reivers as surely as she could sense her own heartbeat. “Bring us swords,” she said. “For we will fight.”