Free The Raider by Monica McCarty Page B

young warrior shirked back in the face of his anger. Robbie didn’t need to tell him that he’d made an enormous mistake. And he would be reprimanded—but later. Right now, all Robbie was focused on was getting the hostages back.
    He quickly organized his men into a search party. In a low voice that contemplated no other result, he ordered, “Find them.”
    “Hurry!” Rosalin grabbed Roger’s hand, pulling him into the river behind her. “They’re coming.”
    The icy water splashed at her knees as they raced toward the felled tree. She was almost too scared to notice how cold it was—almost. Heart pounding, every few feet she glanced around behind her, expecting to see the beasts snapping at their heels.
    Knowing they wouldn’t be able to outrun a dozen warriors on horseback, Rosalin had ignored the instinct to run and instead used the precious few minutes of lead time they had to search for a place to hide. Not an easy task in the barren wintry countryside, but as opportune hiding places went, the felled tree was better than she would have dared hope.
    Propped up on one end by a rock, the tree must have been there for some time, as the inside was partially hollowed out. Moss and ferns had grown over the log almost like a blanket, creating a space underneath that was just large enough for her to crawl under.
    Roger didn’t need to be told what to do. He practically dove into the hollowed-out tree as she did the same underneath the mossy curtain.
    It was just in time. No sooner had they scampered into position than she heard the sound of voices.
    “They couldn’t have gotten far.”
    Her heart stopped, recognizing the deep voice of her captor. Shivering, and not just from the cold, she waited for them to approach.
    “Damn, I wish we had Hunter with us,” another man said. She couldn’t be sure, but she thought it might be the man who’d objected to their abduction.
    “The ground is too hard, and there are too many tracks,” the deeper voice said. “I can’t tell which are theirs.”
    That voice…a chill ran down her spine. There
was
something familiar about it.
    She quickly pushed the thought away. It couldn’t be. Her captor’s voice was deep, but hard and humorless, with a clipped, authoritative cadence. The prisoner’s—Boyd’s—had been softer. Kinder. He’d sounded like a man who knew how to smile, not a harsh, unforgiving brute.
    “Do you think they crossed the river?” the second man asked.
    “I don’t think so,” her captor replied. “We would see some dampness on the ground where they came out.”
    “Unless they decided to swim farther downstream.”
    “If they did, they won’t have gotten far—not if they don’t want to freeze to death. You take some men and go on the other side of the river. I’ll try down this way.”
    “Captain, here!” she heard a shout, possibly from the young warrior whom she’d tricked. “Tracks!”
    “Go,” her captor said. “I’ll see what Malcolm has found.”
    He moved out of hearing distance for a while, and all Rosalin could hear was her heart pounding and the chattering of Roger’s teeth.
    “Do you think they’re gone?” he whispered.
    “Not yet,” she replied. She sensed her captor with the hard, uncompromising voice wouldn’t have given up that quickly.
    A few minutes later, she heard footsteps and froze. Well, as she was actually already frozen, she just stopped breathing.
    “Do you see anything?”
    Now her heart stopped. It was the young warrior, and by the sound of it, he was standing right by the felled tree.
    “Keep looking,” her captor shouted from farther away. “They’re here, damn it. I can feel it.”
    The anger and frustration in his voice gave her an unexpected burst of hope.
Sweet heaven, this might actually work!
    From her place scrunched up under the log, Rosalin watched through the blanket of moss as one of the barbarians walked right by the tree on the opposite side of the hollow. Fortunately, he didn’t