Free Wolf Bride by Elizabeth Moss Page B

their defensive line.
    Wolf turned his horse in pursuit, cursing under his breath.
    ‘To me!’ he called to Ralf and Hal, and plunged downhill after the attackers.
    Under the shady canopy of trees, out of the sun-glare, he could see the men more clearly. They were an ill-disciplined bunch, their faces coarse, clothing patched and ragged in places. Some rode and handled their weapons well though, suggesting training in the past. Renegades, perhaps, or mercenaries fallen on hard times. Not that poverty was any excuse to rob and murder travellers, he thought grimly.
    The leader had seen the litter and had turned slightly, making for it across the loose slope. Hugh had not driven it far enough down the slope, and although Eloise’s elderly father had his sword drawn, and Hugh was on horseback beside the litter, the two of them could hardly hold off this pack of dogs.
    One of the first men was careering towards the litter now, whirling a murderous axe about his head. Hugh pushed forward to meet him, sword raised to meet the punishing blow, and soon forced the man back.
    Untrained he might be, but Hugh had natural strength and prowess. Whenever the king held a joust at court, Hugh invariably won through to the final bouts, and always showed his skill with a sword in close combat. Nonetheless, Wolf knew he could not last long against such desperate men.
    ‘I’ll have their heads for this,’ Wolf snarled, and urged his horse on harder.
    No doubt the looters believed that a covered wagon, hidden amongst the trees, must hold some precious cargo. Gold coins, perhaps, or jewels. Though even a young woman could be valuable, particularly one for whom a hefty ransom could be demanded if they were bold enough.
    Wolf caught up with the leader, pressing his mount hard into the man’s horse. The man roared, turning to attack. But the horse was hampering his sword-hand, and he could not seem to wrest it free.
    Seizing his advantage, Wolf sunk his dagger into the leader’s side, thrusting the blade in deep. Then he shoved the man off his horse, watching as the animal dragged him several hundred feet into the woods; his feet were caught in the reins, his side a bloodied mess.
    Wolf wheeled his stallion about and urged him back towards the litter.
    ‘Ralf!’
    The young man, riding just behind him, hurried to help Sir John against his assailant. The other three horsemen had surrounded Hugh, hammering at him with their weapons, taunting the young man like the cowards they were. Hugh looked spent, his horse whinnying and rolling its eyes at every blow, almost unseating him in its fear.
    Wolf pushed between the men, parrying the next blow, then thrusting hard under that man’s arm to disarm him. The man cried out in agony and fell back, dropping his weapon, his arm hanging useless.
    The other two turned on Wolf at once, their lips drawn back in rage, seemingly unaware that their leader was fallen and their attack had failed. The clash of metal on metal rang from tree to tree, echoing about the dense woodland.
    Birds flew skyward, chattering in alarm.
    Then Hal was there too, his sword slicing one man across the throat, and at last the survivor realised he was alone.
    ‘Damn you all to hell!’ the man cursed them, falling back a few steps in angry exhaustion, then set spurs to his horse and made a clumsy attempt to reach the road above.
    Breathless, Ralf glanced at Wolf. ‘Should I pursue the man, my lord?’
    ‘Yes,’ he agreed, waving him on. ‘Though don’t kill him if you catch up with him, carrion though he is. Bring him back to me. We need the name of their leader.’
    He turned, concerned at once for the old gentleman. ‘Sir John, are you hurt?’
    But to his surprise, Tyrell seemed unharmed and in good spirits. ‘Not a scratch on me,’ he exclaimed, cleaning his sword on the bracken. He gestured to Hugh instead, who had dismounted – or perhaps fallen from his horse – and sunk to one knee on the rough ground. ‘Our young