The Laird's Captive Wife. Joanna Fulford

which meant she must get away before they reached it. In the meantime argument was futile and she would not bandy further words with him, but if Lord Bloody Iain thought she would tamely submit to his will he had another think coming.

      Almost as if he heard the thought Iain’s voice broke in. ‘Dinna think of trying to run, Ashlynn. I’d find you again very quickly and then you might find my temper unpleasant.’

      ‘What difference would that make? Your temper is always unpleasant.’

      The words were out before she was aware and drew down on her a look that caused her heart to miss a beat.

      ‘Put the matter to the test,’ he replied, ‘and you’ll discover a great deal of difference, I promise you.’

      With that he took hold of her wrist in a vice-like grip and led her out to the courtyard. The cold air hit her for there had been a hard frost in the night and everything was rimed with silver. Around them men were already mounting. Robbie approached leading his own horse and a pretty chestnut mare.

      ‘Dougal told me to bring this for the lady,’ he explained.

      Ashlynn wasn’t listening, her whole attention focused on the horse.

      ‘Steorra!’

      Hearing her name the mare turned her head and whinnied softly. With tears in her eyes Ashlynn went forward to greet her, stroking the furry neck, utterly relieved that the horse had taken no hurt from her recent adventures.

      Iain regarded them keenly. ‘I see you two know each other.’

      For a moment all her resentment was forgotten. ‘Where did you find her?’

      ‘I didn’t,’ he replied. ‘My men found her wandering loose after the battle and brought her along with the horses we took from the Normans.’

      ‘I see.’

      ‘Will you mount, Ashlynn, or do you need my help?’

      The bland tone didn’t deceive her for a minute, nor was the implication lost. Biting back the pithy retort that sprang to mind she lifted her chin.

      ‘That won’t be necessary.’

      He watched her gather the reins and swing easily into the saddle. Then he mounted his own horse.

      ‘Let’s go.’

      They rode at a steady pace and soon Hexham was far behind. To her relief Iain rode on ahead with Dougal and left her to the charge of the young man called Robbie. Though he cast sidelong glances at her from time to time, conversation was minimal. However, Ashlynn had no desire for it, her mind on other things. With every stride of the horse beneath her the feeling of desperation grew. Soon they would reach the border. Soon she would be lost. She could not allow herself to be sold into slavery or worse. Death would be preferable. Escape was a risk but a calculated one. All she needed was the opportunity.

      

      It was a relief when the column stopped at noon and she could dismount and stretch her legs for already they felt stiff from the unwonted hours in the saddle. She wondered at these men that they showed no signs of the weariness she felt, or the cold either. As they led the horses to drink at the stream Ashlynn did the same, bending to scoop a handful of water. It was icy but it slaked her thirst. She was occupied thus when she heard a man shout. At once the cry was taken up and, straightening quickly, she looked round.

      Half-a-dozen riders had just appeared round a bend in the road and almost ridden into the Scottish force. There followed a confused impression of helmets and mail and then startled voices and the clash of weapons. Moments later a small section of the Scottish vanguard was heavily engaged in combat and being cheered on by their companions who seemed to think it quite unnecessary to become involved. Recalling the fighting skill of the Scottish warriors, Ashlynn thought they were probably right. Far from showing any concern about the unexpected confrontation they appeared to be treating it as an amusing diversion. Certainly all their attention was focused on the scene. In that realisation she saw her chance. A furtive look around confirmed it. Ducking swiftly under the mare’s neck she grabbed the reins and vaulted astride. Moments later the horse was across the stream and cantering up the slope on the far side.

      The fight was fierce and intense. Taken by surprise, the Normans were immediately at a disadvantage and, although they fought for their lives, were no match for the skill of their opponents. It had been an easy victory but it also raised other questions. Dougal came over to join Iain who stood surveying the slain mercenaries.

      ‘A small raiding party or scouts for a larger force?’ he asked.

      ‘Probably the latter,’ Iain replied. ‘The question is how large a force?’

      Before the other could say any more, Robbie’s voice broke in abruptly. ‘My lord!’

      Hearing the tone of alarm Iain turned quickly, his hand moving automatically to the hilt of his sword. Seeing no immediate threat he relaxed a little. Then his gaze went past Robbie and caught sight of Ashlynn’s retreating figure. He swore softly. Crimson with embarrassment, the young man bit his lip.

      ‘I’m sorry, my lord. I only turned my back for a moment.’

      ‘Damn it, lad,’ said Dougal, ‘could ye no keep control over a wee slip of a lass?’

      ‘I’ll go after her.’

      Iain shook his head. ‘No, you stay with the rest. I’ll fetch her back.’

      ‘Aye, and give her a good hiding into the bargain,’ growled Dougal. ‘The wee fool deserves no less.’

      ‘I’ll deal with her,’ said Iain. ‘Meanwhile, get the men away. There’s no telling how big the rest of the Norman force might be and I can’t take a chance that would jeopardise our mission. Make for Jedburgh as planned. I’ll catch up with you later.’

      ‘Will you no take some men with you, my lord?’ the other replied. ‘It’ll be dark in another hour and there’s no telling how many more are out there, or where they are.’

      ‘I’ll be faster alone.’

      ‘Aye, perhaps.’

      ‘I’ll take good care.’

      ‘See you do.’

      Iain turned and whistled for his mount. A few moments after that, he had guided the stallion across the stream and was heading the horse up the slope at a gallop.

      

      Ashlynn reached the top of the hill and slowed a little, glancing over her shoulder. For a moment or two she could see no sign of pursuit. Then her heart missed a beat to see the rider on the dapple grey heading in her direction. It needed no lengthy study to work out who he was. Turning the mare’s head she urged her on. The land above the summit was open and dangerous for that reason: the grey was bigger and faster and in this terrain would overtake them soon enough. Looking swiftly round she spied some trees in the distance and headed for them.

      By the time she reached the wood the grey was closing the gap rapidly. She needed somewhere to hide and soon. The path through the trees was narrow but though there was thicket on either side it was leafless and afforded no concealing cover at this season. Even as she took the information in the track forked. Forced to choose she went left. A hundred yards further on she realised it had been a serious error for the path ended abruptly in a narrow defile bordered on three sides by walls of rock.

      Ashlynn turned Steorra and retraced her route but as she neared the main track it was to see Iain’s horse not a hundred yards off and closing fast. In a last desperate effort she urged her mount forward, conscious of the hoof beats behind thudding like her own heartbeat. However, though the mare was game her speed was no match for the bigger horse. Worse, the trees ended suddenly and the track came out into open land once more. Two minutes later the grey drew level and a strong hand grabbed the rein, drawing her horse to a gradual halt. Before a word could be spoken Ashlynn kicked free of the stirrups and leapt from the saddle. Then she ran, heading back for the cover of the trees in a