Squeezing her eyes tightly closed, she nearly groaned aloud at the pain shooting through her head. Then she felt the hand on her arm tighten and was dragged, stumbling out into fresh air. Unfortunately, she had not been prepared for the abrupt jerk forward, nor the uneven ground that was suddenly beneath her feet. Crying out, Iliana stumbled and lost her balance, instinctively throwing her hands out to cushion her fall.

Wincing at her stinging palms, Iliana blinked frantically, trying to get her sight back as she glanced about. They were in a small cave that opened out into bright daylight.

A muttered curse drew her head around. The Englishman was trying to hold the passage door open, while stretching to retrieve a boulder a few feet away. But he could not reach. Cursing again, he raised his head to glare at her. “Fetch me that damn rock,” he ordered grimly.

Eyes widening, Iliana got carefully to her feet, hesitated, then turned and made a mad dash for the entrance to the cave and the sunlight beyond.

Her captor began shouting at once, the sound bouncing off the walls and vibrating so that it almost deafened her before she made the mouth of the cave and started blindly across the clearing outside it. She had no idea where she was going. Truly, she had no idea even where she was, but fleeing seemed in her best interests. A plan started to form as she ran. She would run all the way to McInnes keep and fetch help back. She would be able to find her way; all she needed to do was stop and look for the towers of Dunbar to get her bearings. Which she would do just as soon as she felt she had gotten a safe distance away from Greenweld and his men.

Her heart was already pounding fit to burst, but when her captor’s shouts were finally answered by others ahead of her and she realized she was charging straight toward the enemy, her heart nearly jumped right out of her chest. Changing direction at once, she veered to the left just as a man broke from the trees ahead of her. Iliana managed a desperate burst of speed, but it did little good. Even as she sprinted toward the cover of the woods, she was tackled from behind and sent crashing to her stomach on the forest floor.

She started struggling at once. Bucking off her attacker, she tried to lurch to her knees, but he had a hold on her skirt. Whirling, she turned onto her back to kick the man, and that was her mistake. The sight of Allistair clutching at the plaid she wore made her hesitate. Only a moment, but even that moment was too long, she realized, as he released her skirt in favor of the ankle of her half-bent leg, preventing her from either kicking him or fleeing.

Chapter Twenty-one