Page 13 of The Iron Earl

The figure approached from deep in the shadows of the forest and it took a moment to see it was a lone rider on a horse. It took several more seconds before the rider was close enough that a shaft of moonlight hit his body.

Lachlan.

Hell.

Evalyn whipped forward, her shoulders hunching, trying to make herself invisible. She wasn’t sure if she should be distraught or elated.

Her choices were very few at this point.

Moving onward with Lachlan’s giants that would beat her.

Or stay with Mr. Fitzgibbon and his cousin who would probably rape her—and much worse if she judged by the look of their leers.

What was she willing to do for her freedom?

The thundering hooves on the roadway went past the wagon and Lachlan moved his horse in front of the mule pulling the wagon, blocking their path.

“Good eve, gentlemen.” Lachlan nodded to the two lanky men sidling Evalyn.

Mr. Fitzgibbon’s cousin pulled back on the reins of the mule and his head inclined to Lachlan. “Good eve, sir, might I ask why ye be blocking our path?”

Her face angled downward, Evalyn watched Lachlan with upturned eyes. His gaze locked onto her. “It would seem, good sirs, as though you have kindly found and assisted with something I have lost.” His voice was soft, almost congenial, his Scottish burr rolling over the words with placid nonchalance. Nothing as she had ever heard from him. Even with his men, his voice was direct with a constant edge to it. And with her, it had been nothing but stony, anger palpitating in every word he spoke to her.

To the left of her, Mr. Fitzgibbon lifted his thin left leg and propped it on the front of the wagon, leaning forward on his thigh. “Now what would that be, sir?”

“The lass.”

“The lass?” Mr. Fitzgibbon drew out the word, his look turning to Evalyn. “Well, now, she didn’t look the least bit lost when we happened upon her. She looked happy to see two such fine gentlemen such as ourselves happen to come by her and offer a cozy spot to sit.”

Lachlan nodded, a cordial smile on his face. “Nonetheless, she was mine to lose and now she is mine to retrieve.” His look pierced her. “Evalyn, you must have gotten lost from the camp in the woods, but I am so relieved these helpful gentlemen found you and offered assistance. I thank both of you.” His gaze moved to Mr. Fitzgibbon, then his cousin. “But it is now time for us to take our leave of them.”

“Well, no, sir, how do we know the pretty kitty be wanting to go with ye? She got into our wagon on her own accord, seeing as how we’re two fine sirs offering her right helpful aid.”

Lachlan’s head cocked to the side. “Evalyn, I imagine you got lost in the woods?”

Her chin lifted slightly and she met Lachlan’s eyes. The glint in them, the inherent command lacing his soft words was unmistakable. Listen to him now or this was going to get ugly. Brutally ugly.

She nodded. “I had lost my way, Lachlan, and these two were very kind to offer assistance.” Her breath held, she looked at Mr. Fitzgibbon. “Thank you again for your assistance. I do appreciate it.”

Mr. Fitzgibbon didn’t move, his bent leg blocking her path off the side of the wagon. He stared down his long thin nose at her, his jaw shifting back and forth. Then he looked over her head at his cousin and nodded.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noted his cousin lifting his leg just the same as Mr. Fitzgibbon had, effectively locking her into the middle of the bench.

“Again, thank you for your time and generosity.” She conjured the widest smile she could manage and took a deep breath, moving to her feet. She’d jump onto the back of the mule—or climb over Mr. Fitzgibbon’s lap—if she had to.

Any way she could, she was getting off this wagon.

“Not so fast, kitty.” The cousin’s nasally voice sneered into the night and the tip of something sharp jabbed into her side just above her hip.

Her look whipped to him. Even though she stood and he sat, she was eye level with him. He sneered at her, the tip of the dagger clutched in his hand twisting harder into her side, close to breaking through the silk of her dress.

“Why ye be wanting to leave us so soon, kitty?” Mr. Fitzgibbon drew her attention to his side of the wagon. “Ye think yer man be willin’ to fight fer ye?”

Panic sent her veins aflame. She should have known. She should have run into the woods the moment she saw this wagon crest the hill in the moonlight. Instead she had stood there like an idiot, waiting for the wagon to approach.

She looked to Lachlan.

He stared at the three of them in the wagon, his eyes slightly squinted, bored by the tiresome scene. His chest lifted in a heavy sigh and his look met hers.