ice.
Another sharp crack streaked below them like a battering ram.
Giric tugged the reins; his mount refused to move. “Come on!”
“Sir Knight.”
He glanced over and found Sarra gingerly heading back toward him. Was she addled? “I told you to get off the ice. Do it!”
Though her face was pale, she kept her hand on the horse’s hindquarters and carefully edged forward. “You need help.”
Muttering a curse, he yanked on the reins to drag his horse closer to the bank. “Then give him a push on his arse.” Her stunned expression almost caused him to laugh, but to her credit, she hesitated but a moment before heading toward the horse’s posterior.
The ice below them began to slowly rise and fall. Another crack echoed ahead of them, and a gash opened up exposing rushing water between them and the shore.
“Hold,” Giric yelled back.
Sarra peered around the horse’s rear, terror in her eyes. “What are we going to do now?”
CHAPTER 5
T he ice shuddered beneath Sarra’s feet. “Sir Knight, the ice is giving!”
A small fissure cut beneath the horse’s hooves and fractured in erratic streaks toward the swirling water near the bank.
With a curse, he moved to her side. “We will have to jump to shore.”
She stared at him in disbelief. The gap between land and the ice had grown to an arm’s length. “We will never make it!”
“Nae if we wait.” He held out his hand.
The churning rush pulsed beneath her. Her doubts soared. “’Tis too wide.”
Impatience snapped in his eyes. “Take my hand!”
On an unsteady breath, she edged forward. A strong gust battered the ice. The surface gave beneath her next step, and she slipped.
Sir Knight caught her and hauled her against him. “Steady, lass.”
Sarra clung, afraid, cold, but mostly bewildered that from this near tragedy she found not only strength, but comfort in Sir Knight’s arms.
“Move toward the opening. When I tell you to, run and jump to the shore.”
“What about you?”
Warmth flickered in his eyes. As if a trick of light it vanished. “This is nae a debate. Go on.”
With a nervous nod, she edged toward the opening. On her next step, the ice below her fluctuated. She lost her footing. Off balance, she plopped on her bottom.
“Is that the blasted best you can do?” Sir Knight grumbled as he hauled her up.
She pushed him away, her pride hurt more than her posterior. “I am—”
The crack of breaking ice had her glancing shoreward. The gap in the ice now extended more than a body’s length. Water rushed through the opening and slammed against the ice, widening the fissure along the bank. The sheet they stood on remained connected to the opposite bank.
He glanced toward the open water. “Blast it!”
Panicking, she caught Giric’s cape, her mind already spinning back to the attack of her youth.
The screams.
Their wagon rocking precariously.
Then, how it had overturned. Icy water had seeped into the crevices, and then it had begun to pour through the windows and fill the luxurious interior.
Her father’s calming words had surrounded her while he had struggled to free himself—then the screams of the attack had begun.
“Sarra!”
She fought against the hands that held her, for a moment a victim of her youthful terror.
“Sarra, look at me.”
Sir Knight’s voice dragged her back from her nightmare. The screams and images faded, but the anguish remained. She dug her nails into his cape. “We are going to die! Damn you. Why did I trust you!”
He caught her shoulders and gave her a hard shake. “Stop it.”
Panic threatened to overflow. How ironic. A Scot like those who had murdered her parents now offered her hope. Hope? No, he would never offer her that. She fought his hold. “Leave me alone.”
His grip held firm. “You canna fall apart now.” His eyes narrowed. “I never figured you for a coward.”
Her spine stiffened.
He pushed her toward the bank. “Move or I will leave your blasted arse
Another sharp crack streaked below them like a battering ram.
Giric tugged the reins; his mount refused to move. “Come on!”
“Sir Knight.”
He glanced over and found Sarra gingerly heading back toward him. Was she addled? “I told you to get off the ice. Do it!”
Though her face was pale, she kept her hand on the horse’s hindquarters and carefully edged forward. “You need help.”
Muttering a curse, he yanked on the reins to drag his horse closer to the bank. “Then give him a push on his arse.” Her stunned expression almost caused him to laugh, but to her credit, she hesitated but a moment before heading toward the horse’s posterior.
The ice below them began to slowly rise and fall. Another crack echoed ahead of them, and a gash opened up exposing rushing water between them and the shore.
“Hold,” Giric yelled back.
Sarra peered around the horse’s rear, terror in her eyes. “What are we going to do now?”
CHAPTER 5
T he ice shuddered beneath Sarra’s feet. “Sir Knight, the ice is giving!”
A small fissure cut beneath the horse’s hooves and fractured in erratic streaks toward the swirling water near the bank.
With a curse, he moved to her side. “We will have to jump to shore.”
She stared at him in disbelief. The gap between land and the ice had grown to an arm’s length. “We will never make it!”
“Nae if we wait.” He held out his hand.
The churning rush pulsed beneath her. Her doubts soared. “’Tis too wide.”
Impatience snapped in his eyes. “Take my hand!”
On an unsteady breath, she edged forward. A strong gust battered the ice. The surface gave beneath her next step, and she slipped.
Sir Knight caught her and hauled her against him. “Steady, lass.”
Sarra clung, afraid, cold, but mostly bewildered that from this near tragedy she found not only strength, but comfort in Sir Knight’s arms.
“Move toward the opening. When I tell you to, run and jump to the shore.”
“What about you?”
Warmth flickered in his eyes. As if a trick of light it vanished. “This is nae a debate. Go on.”
With a nervous nod, she edged toward the opening. On her next step, the ice below her fluctuated. She lost her footing. Off balance, she plopped on her bottom.
“Is that the blasted best you can do?” Sir Knight grumbled as he hauled her up.
She pushed him away, her pride hurt more than her posterior. “I am—”
The crack of breaking ice had her glancing shoreward. The gap in the ice now extended more than a body’s length. Water rushed through the opening and slammed against the ice, widening the fissure along the bank. The sheet they stood on remained connected to the opposite bank.
He glanced toward the open water. “Blast it!”
Panicking, she caught Giric’s cape, her mind already spinning back to the attack of her youth.
The screams.
Their wagon rocking precariously.
Then, how it had overturned. Icy water had seeped into the crevices, and then it had begun to pour through the windows and fill the luxurious interior.
Her father’s calming words had surrounded her while he had struggled to free himself—then the screams of the attack had begun.
“Sarra!”
She fought against the hands that held her, for a moment a victim of her youthful terror.
“Sarra, look at me.”
Sir Knight’s voice dragged her back from her nightmare. The screams and images faded, but the anguish remained. She dug her nails into his cape. “We are going to die! Damn you. Why did I trust you!”
He caught her shoulders and gave her a hard shake. “Stop it.”
Panic threatened to overflow. How ironic. A Scot like those who had murdered her parents now offered her hope. Hope? No, he would never offer her that. She fought his hold. “Leave me alone.”
His grip held firm. “You canna fall apart now.” His eyes narrowed. “I never figured you for a coward.”
Her spine stiffened.
He pushed her toward the bank. “Move or I will leave your blasted arse
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