Page 20 of The Lass and the Laird

As the jostling of the wagon combined with anxiety, her stomach threatened to upheave. Meredith attempted to swallow past the gag in her mouth and was immediately sorry when her throat seized up and she began coughing until her eyes watered.

Her mind in a million directions, she prayed that Lily was all right. The poor maid had fought valiantly, trying until the very end to keep ahold of her. One of her abductors had pushed the hapless maid off the edge of the wagon when Lily refused to let go of Meredith’s foot. Lily screamed and then lay motionless in the middle of the road as they rode away.

From what glimpses she caught of the men who spoke in gruff tones, they looked like Norse. People of the north distinct by their light coloring, blond hair and light-colored eyes were well known to be ruffians and murderers. They spoke in a tongue she’d never heard. It sounded like short sentences and harsh tones.

Why had they targeted her? She’d never met anyone from their land, nor did she think Aiden did. It was rumored that these savages pillage seaside townships, killing men and raping any woman in sight. She almost wished they’d done so, and left her behind, not taken her to do who knew what with. Now they rode into the distance and surely Aiden would have no idea where to find her.

The wagon swayed and she fell to the side. The horseman behind rode forward past the side of the wagon and she scooted closer to the edge. The first chance possible, she’d jump and attempt to get away. The odds were against her, but she had to try. Even with her small dirk in her boot, there was little chance she could fight off six men. Meredith squared her shoulders and focused on the horizon. They'd not kill her easily; she’d struggle against her captors every step of the way.

Just as she neared the edge, they came to a stop. The sun was setting in the distance and she caught sight of a small stream.

One of the men dragged her from the wagon and led her to a small clearing. He motioned to the ground and grunted a command. "Go."

Did he really expect her to relieve herself in front of him? Meredith shook her head. Even if she wanted to, it would be impossible with her hands bound as they were. He seemed to realize this and untied her hands, then once again repeated the signals.

She looked past him to where the other men were. They were talking in low tones, not paying them any mind. The man before her seemed to grow irritated and proceeded to squat and demonstrate what he meant for her to do. Finally he turned his back, but looked over his shoulder in warning.

Humiliated, Meredith did what she had to do and pulled her dirk from her boot. When she straightened he moved toward her and she struck upward with her blade. The man was too fast for her. He grabbed her arm and twisted it until pain radiated to her shoulder. Meredith had no choice but to drop her weapon.

In anger, she kicked him in the leg. He swore and shoved her back to the wagon. The others laughed when she took off running. As expected, he quickly caught up with her, grabbed her around the waist and threw her onto the ground. Straddling her, he bound her hands again and pulled her to stand.

When he shoved her to sit on a tree stump, the other men began talking in rapid tones, jovial and laughing, while her captor scowled in response. It seemed he was his charge as none of the others dared to come near her, barely glanced at her.

Meredith studied the man who now held a wineskin up and motioned for her to be quiet. He was large, they all were, but he was different than the others. Bearded, with a scar that ran across his cheek, he still managed to be handsome. His piercing, blue eyes met hers and she recoiled.

There was hatred in his gaze, pure rage. The corner of the devil’s lips curved, the smile one of knowing. She’d seen exactly how he felt.

He removed her gag and she let out a scream. Hopefully, someone was nearby and overheard her. Gruff hands covered her mouth and he said something that sounded like a curse. Once again, he lifted the wineskin with one hand while covering her mouth with the other. She nodded and he removed his hand. Meredith screamed again and this time he gagged her. The men began talking in rapid spurts and rushed around the area to ensure no one came.

She struggled when he threw her over his shoulder. Her mouth was dry and, truthfully, she was so very thirsty. But survival was more important than a drink of whatever they offered. He stalked to the wagon and none-so-gently plopped her down.

Moments later, a different man came to her. She followed his every move, not looking away when he narrowed his eyes. Unlike the other man, this one terrified her. He placed the wineskin on the wagon, then shoved her to her back. Meredith was unable to struggle when he straddled her. She prayed he didn’t kill her for screaming.

The man placed a knife at her throat and removed the gag, then shoved the wineskin into her mouth. The liquid was delicious, cool, and wet and she drank greedily until he removed it quickly replacing the cloth back into her mouth.

He turned to signal the others and she saw two horsemen ride away, one of them the blue-eyed devil. What happened now?

Alone in the back of the wagon while the four remaining men seemed to gather their horses, despair filled her. Would she ever see her home again? Aiden? Did he attempt to find her? If so, would he even know where to look?

What of Declan? Had he been notified? Did he even care?

For weeks, he’d attempted to see her and she’d rebuffed him, sending away messengers and returning any gifts he’d sent. In truth, she’d began to soften and planned to accept the next request.

Declan had chosen to give her time although he didn’t have to wait, did not have to ask for her forgiveness. After all, he and Aiden had already come to an agreement, she was to marry Declan Gordon whether she accepted or not.

In a missive he’d ordered read out loud so she’d been forced to listen to the words, the messenger stated that Declan had not disclosed his identity because he wanted to be sure she cared for him as a person and not for who he was; a laird.

The truth was, she not only cared for him, but through his actions he’d earned her love. She’d spent so many sleepless nights reliving their night together. His touches upon her body, the way they’d joined together as one, the heights to which he’d taken her. And now it was over. She’d never see him again and reveal that she more than cared, but was in love him.

Taking one last chance to escape, Meredith pushed from the back of the wagon and fell to the ground and rolled a couple times before coming to a stop with a thud. She struggled to her feet and raced away. It was hard to run with her hands bound and with her mouth gagged, it was hard to breathe, but she pressed on. A few yards forth, she saw a farm in the distance and ran toward it.

Shouts sounded. They’d realized she’d gone. Meredith spun to the left and scurried to hide behind rocks. Hopefully, they’d not see her and go in a different direction. She waited, barely able to hear beyond the hard beats of her heart and harsh breathing. After a few moments, she peered and didn’t see anyone, so she lifted to her feet and took off at a run again.

Meredith prayed for God’s intervention, that he make her invisible to them. Tackled from behind, she slammed forward onto the ground and lost her ability to breathe. The Norseman turned her over and backhanded her across the face, shouting in anger. Her jaw throbbed and her gag slipped. She scrambled away from him and screamed as loud as she could while barely catching her breath.

His fist came down toward her face and she managed to shift enough to avoid the hit. He lost his balance to the side as she bucked from under him.

The pounding of horse hooves announced that, in all probability, the others came and, once again, she’d be taken prisoner and carted to wherever they went. Meredith shrieked and kicked at the man. He took her by the hair and slapped her so hard her teeth rattled. Darkness threatened and she fought it.