Warlord

She knew that clan, knew they had been the first to lose the battle with Bronson. Her enemy, and the Lyons’ enemy, was now trapped inside her chambers and intent on killing her. That much was clear. “I donna kno’ how ye plan tae make it known, since I am just a woman. I am nothing but the wife of a warrior. Nothing more.” Maybe if he saw her as a lowly female, he might take pity and realize this was a mistake. “But my husband will be here any minute.”

He chuckled and reached behind him. “Ye may just be a woman, but ye are Bronson’s woman, and yer death will bring that bastard down to his knees before us.”

Her heart pounded hard and fast when she saw him pull out a dagger. “What are ye doing?” She glanced at the knife he held. Oh, she wasn’t a fool, but she also knew that she needed to play this smart.

“Come on now, wee thing, are ye really that dense no’ tae know what I plan on doing?” He took a step closer and held the knife tightly in his hand.

She glanced around the room, knowing that if she didn’t act quickly, she would be dead. It had only been a few minutes since Mattina had left, but it felt like an eternity. She spotted the iron rod by the fire, and right when the man charged forward, she ducked, crawled over the bed, and lunged for the piece of metal. It slipped from her grasp and slid across the stone and into the fire. She looked over her shoulder, saw him coming forward with murder in his eyes, and grabbed for the iron rod again.

Now having her hands wrapped tightly around it, she rolled onto her back and swung out blindly. He was already coming toward her, but she had caught him off guard with her quick movement. She thought back to the time she and her father had trained the mare, that time she had to make quick decisions when the horse was wild and crazed. This was another instance where she needed to be faster and smarter than the animal.

The sound of pounding footsteps came through the wood, and she felt her pulse race. She knew that was help on its way, but would it come in time? Her attacker had scars littering his cheeks and neck and a nasty scowl on his face.

“Ye stupid, peasant whore.” He charged forward again, and this time she connected the iron with his side. He grunted and fell to the side, and the knife he held skittered to the ground. She had either gotten very lucky, or he had been stupid enough to think she would just submit and let him harm her. Either way, she wasn’t about to stand there and see how long it took him to rise. She ran toward the door, but he reached out, grabbed her ankle, and pulled her forward. She fell to the ground, and the iron rod slipped from her grasp.

She shook her head, trying to clear the sudden ringing in her ears, and kicked out. He grunted from behind her just as he let go, and she wasted no time moving toward the door. But it crashed open a second later, and there stood the two men Bronson had left in charge. One sported bruising around his eyes, and the other had a trail of blood down his temple. One of them also held Mattina in an unyielding hold.

The one not holding Mattina moved past her, and she watched as he hauled her attacker up in a deadly grip. He started speaking to him in harsh, cruel Gaelic and hauled him out of the room faster than she could even comprehend.

“Mattina?”

“Milady, this traitor allowed that assassin into the manor through the servant quarters under the impression that he was the healer.”

Genevieve’s heart pounded so fast and hard at hearing that. Had she heard right? “Mattina, ye betrayed me?” How had she not known? The young girl may have only been her handmaiden for a short time, but Genevieve should have recognized the signs of her distrust: the clipped phrases, lack of expression, and the way Genevieve felt off-balance around the young girl.

“I loved him,” Mattina said in a voice that didn’t show any remorse for the horror she almost caused.

Genevieve didn’t even care who Mattina claimed to have loved, because the fact was, she had betrayed Clan Lyon.

“If I helped them take down yer clan, then I could avenge my love.” There were fat tears that fell from Mattina’s face, but Genevieve could tell they were from anger and not sadness.

Genevieve turned away, feeling sick and frightened and wishing Bronson was here. “Ye meant tae have me killed, tae have my unborn child killed.” She curled her hands into fists at her sides. “Take her away. I need tae be alone.” She breathed out when she heard the retreating footsteps. She knew what they did to traitors, but she felt no remorse. Mattina knew the consequences if she was caught, knew what happened to people who went against a lord, and she would pay the price however Bronson saw fit.