Free Becca St.John by Seonaid Page B

way to Eriboll before daylight.”
    “You can’t do it alone.”
    He took her chin in his hand, held her still, and gave her a swift kiss. “Now look at your son and tell me you could risk something happenin’ to him.” He turned her to see Deian brushing down Peregrine.
    He saw her swallow, fight tears. Whatever she did, she’d lose something, but she’d not risk her son, no matter how much she tried to believe he would be safe without her.
    “We’ll ride like the wind.”
    “Aye.”
    “And Padraig.”
    “What.”
    “You can’t save all the lasses either. If it comes to them or you, chose you. For me.”
    Her words hit his heart. “Och, lassie…” His smile fought hard, but he held it back to a teasing lift of lips, as he tilted his head, “…are you telling me you love me?”
    She snorted. “Don’t be daft.” But then she smiled as wide as he did before she swept down and gave him a kiss just like the one he’d given her. Sweet, so sweet.
    “Go now,” he urged. “Do as you promised. Ride like the banshees are on your tail. I’ll be seeing you by morning.”
     
    vvvvvv
     
    He’d be seeing her sooner than morning. If he was still alive.
    Seonaid strained at the ropes wrapped around her wrists, and prayed Deian got away. He’d been riding ahead of her but lower, along the coast. She’d taken the higher land. She wanted the vantage to better see where Deian got and, if she were lucky, to catch the occasional glimpse of Padraig.
    “You go first,” she’d instructed her son, “and not to worry if you don’t see me. Just keep headin’ for Eriboll. If you get there before me, with no sign of me, you tell them there’s trouble with a boat at the south end of the loch. You tell them not to let it through, that it’s about the missin’ lasses. Can you do that?”
    “Aye.”
    He was her lad, no doubting that. He relished the challenge, the importance of it, and rode faster than she could follow with the folds of the highway.
    She’d prepared him in case she decided to head back to help Padraig, but then she fretted Deian’s horse would step in a rabbit hole, or hit a bog and send him flying, breaking his neck, even though she knew he wasn’t too young, not by the standards of her clan, to be a messenger. He was spreading the word, a task often given to lads swift on their feet and he had the advantage of a mount.
    And he was good with horses.
    Still she fretted, go ahead or back.
    The decision was no longer hers to make.
    It all happened too fast. Trying to get an eye on Deian, so far ahead of her, she hurried down a slope, just below an outcropping of stone. That’s when the evil son of a pissant got her. He jumped off that outcropping and straight onto the back of Peregrine.
    Trapped, his arms on either side of her, he yanked the reins from her, pulled Peregrine to a stop. Seonaid cracked her head back, hoping to nut him, and hit the bridge of his nose with her noggin. He laughed, riling her beyond control. She fought like a banshee, scrambled to get the leather straps back in her own hold, but he punched her, sending her sprawling to the ground, stealing the air from her lungs.
    She scrambled to her feet but not fast enough. He landed on top of her, pushing her hard onto her belly, straddling her. She bucked and fought, though she knew she’d never win. She’d never won in such a fight against Lochlan either, but he never got away without his share of bruising and neither would this man.
    Feigning weakness, giving in, she sensed his easing the fight. In one swift heaving move, she toppled him to his back, grabbed for her knife, just as his arm slammed into hers, sending the blade rolling across the ground.
    She scratched and pummeled and kicked, but to no avail. He had her on her belly again, her hands fastened behind her, tied tight, and all the while she prayed that Deian wouldn’t try to find her. That he would ride like the devil and get to Eriboll before the boat took off, past