The Archer's Daughter by Melissa MacKinnon Read Free Book Online

pulled at the coil.
    “This may be more efficient.” Owen . His small blade sliced through the rope spiral, freeing the shackles from the horse.
    Cate pounced on Owen, knocking him to the ground. A blade arced above them, narrowly missing them both. Her curses matched those spewing from Owen’s mouth as he kicked their opponent in the gut, allowing precious moments for Owen to seek his sword. He slung one arm around her neck as if she needed the protection, ultimately wedging her frame between himself and the horse. A simmering heat radiated from the taught lines of his physique, every muscle contraction constraining against her curves. His heart pounded a steady rhythm, the repetitive thud thud echoing in stark contrast to the tremulous beat of her own. Its calm, soothing pace drowned out the shouts and terror surrounding them, as all she could hear was the perfect, steady drum of his heart.
    Owen’s free arm pitched forward as he brought up his blade, deflecting a blow from the painted assailant. The grinding of the blades howled in Cate’s ears. Owen grunted and swung, his sword the only barrier between life and death. A thud reverberated nearby, and he heaved a sigh, finally releasing her from his hold.
    Taking her by the arms, Owen sat Cate upright and leaned her back against the horse. In a frail attempt to tidy her shambled appearance, he swept the waves of sable hair back from her face. His palm lingered on her nape while she caught her breath. “Are you hurt?” His concern for her well-being seemed genuine. His enigmatic eyes searched hers, seeking absolution. Their once bright color had turned dark and deep.
    “A bit bruised ’tis all, although I’ll feel it mightily in the morning.” Cate peeked over the belly of the horse. More men gathered nearby, a steady strumming of skirmishes exploding in every direction. They were surrounded. “Are these your men?”
    “No, not mine. They fight your Scotsman, as well. Perhaps we all seek the same prize?”
    “A burden, yes… but a prize? Maybe for the devil himself. I am no prize, not for any man.” Cate pulled the shackles taught, the jingle of the chains loud and clear. “Please tell me you carry the key, Bane.”
    “I do.” Owen sneaked a look at the action then hunkered below the horse to join Cate, taking great care to be sure all limbs were under cover of the massive steed.
    Arrows snapped the dirt not far from their feet. “Who are these men? I have never come across such vile looking creatures.” Cate lowered to her side, hoping to hinder further detection. An arrow to the back of the skull after all she’d endured the last few days seemed like a terrible way to meet her maker.
    “They are head hunters — after yours, I gather. They are mercenary and acting merely for the reward. They do not care who they kill in the process, making my job extremely difficult.”
    “For ten quid? Hell, I have that amount stowed away in the trees.” All of this commotion for her? The local villages knew her well and would not do such a thing. Word must have spread further than Kent. For someone to risk their life to bring her in seemed foolish, but then again, she had met some unsavory blackhearts who would kill a man for a swig of ale. She wouldn’t put the same past this group of ruffians. “Do you think, perhaps, the good Captain has put a price on your head as well?” Cate chuckled as another slew of arrows descended much too close.
    “I should dearly hope not, as that good Captain, as you call him, is my father.”
    “Ahh, well then. I should have known it was he who would want me dead the most. His men do seem the easiest to eliminate. Perhaps he has raised the price to an irresistible sum?”
    “Perhaps he’d rather see you dead than be bothered with a fair trial.”
    Owens words cut her to the core. Cate had never thought about the fairness of the accusations, but she didn’t deny them, either.
    Completely surrounded, it seemed fitting she