The fourth man moved his horse closer, forcing Br
onwyn to step backward. “What of her clan?” he asked seriously. “Did you know the MacArrans are at war with the MacGregors? This is MacGregor land, you know.”
“Charles,” said the first man slowly, “I think you’re beginning to have some good ideas. She’s obviously hiding. Whose child is that?” he asked, directing the question at Bronwyn.
“It’s too old to be Montgomery’s. Maybe she ran away from him to have another man’s child.”
The second man laughed. “He’d probably pay a lot to have her back then, maybe just so he can boil her in oil.”
“What about asking ransom from all three: her clan, the MacGregor, and Montgomery?”
“And enjoying her ourselves while we wait,” laughed the third man.
Kirsty watched from the weeds beside the stream. There were tears in her eyes and blood on her lower lip where she’d bitten it. She knew that Bronwyn could have gotten away. The rocks behind her were too steep for the men’s horses, and Bronwyn could possibly have escaped from them. But not with the child. It would take the use of both hands to climb those rocks. Bronwyn couldn’t get away as long as she held the child.
“I like the idea,” said the first man. He stepped closer to Bronwyn. “You won’t be harmed if you cooperate. Now give me that child.” He talked to her as if she were dull-witted. When Bronwyn stepped backward, he frowned. “We know the babe isn’t Montgomery’s, so wouldn’t it be better if we got rid of it now?”
Bronwyn stood firmly. “You harm me or my child, and all my clan, as well as the Montgomerys, will be down on your head,” she said quietly.
The man looked at her in surprise for a moment, then he recovered himself. “Are you trying to frighten us?” He took a step nearer. “Give me the child!”
“Do not come any nearer,” Bronwyn said flatly.
One of the men laughed. “I think you should watch out for her. She looks dangerous to me.”
The man behind her slid to the ground. “Need some help?” he asked quietly.
The other two men stayed on their horses and moved closer.
Bronwyn did not panic. She could not put the child down and could not get to her knife. Her only chance was to be able to outrun the Englishmen, who were used to life on a horse. She easily sidestepped the man in front of her, nestled Rory against her, and began to run.
But even a Scotswoman was no match for a horse.
One of the men on horseback cut her off. His insidious laughter rang through the air. Rory began to cry as Bronwyn held him closer to her. She knew the men would kill the child if she put him down.
The men circled her once again. One of them grabbed her shoulder, then pushed her back toward the other man.
Suddenly an arrow appeared out of nohere and sank into the breast of the first man just as he reached out to touch Bronwyn again.
The other three men were stunned. They stood and stared at their companion, silent, lifeless, at their feet.
Bronwyn lost no time wondering who shot the arrow. She used the few seconds of time to run for the rocks.
The men looked around them to find the source of the arrow. Before they could think, a lone Scotsman stood from the rocks and fired another arrow. The third man, also on foot, fell.
The two men on horses turned sharply and started back the way they came.
Stephen came over the rocks agilely and quickly, Rab behind him. The dog had given him the alarm. He ran after the men on horseback, loading his bow as he ran. One of the men went down as his horse kept running, his dead master’s foot caught in the stirrup, the body dragging across the rough ground. Stephen kept running after the fourth man.
Slowly Kirsty came out of her hiding place. She was too frightened to move quickly. Bronwyn met her more than halfway. Kirsty took her child, held him tenderly, then looked up to see Donald coming toward her. She handed the baby to his father, then she clasped Bronwyn. Her body was trembling. “You saved him,” she whispered shakily. “You could have gotten away but you didn’t. You risked your life to save my baby.”
But Bronwyn was hardly listening. She was looking at the space where Stephen had been. “He killed Englishmen!” she whispered again and again, feeling both happy and astonished. Stephen killed Englishmen to protect her and a Scots baby.
Donald put his hand on Bronwyn’s shoulder. “You and Stephen will have to leave,” he said sadly.
“Oh, Donald, please—” Kirsty began.
“No, it must be. The men—” He stopped when he saw Stephen appear.