could stop her. She knew then he had his own agenda for her. A chill swept down her spine.
Without a word, she turned. His cold gaze met hers and sent a warning through her. She wasn’t surprised when Rory let out a cry.
"Say, Aaron, where do you think you’re going with the girl? We got business to discuss. You can play with her later. Bring her back," Rory said.
The stranger was quick. Not a flicker of emotion showed on his face as he stared at her a second longer before he turned to speak to Rory. Yet he never let go of her.
"We’ve finished our business," he said, a deadly ring to his tone.
Dear God, let the man be as dangerous as he is handsome, she prayed again. Let him be as twisted and demonic as Rory and Jericho. When their swords clash, she didn’t want his death on her conscience.
Rory’s death however was different. She’d gladly see him skewered through. Lainie had no scruples about that. Anyone who could stand by and watch the rape of a woman, taking delight in the pain and suffering, deserved whatever horrible death he met with. Aye, he deserved a much more painful death than he was likely to get from a sword.
"Let go of my arm, sir. We have no business and I intend to be on my way. You are lying about me. I have stolen nothing from you." Lainie spoke in a hushed whisper.
"My purse is stolen. It’s the lass," Rory cried out. "Stop her."
Aaron gave her an odd look. He let go of her arm and turned to face the open door and the tavern. He stepped forward. In seconds, he was inside near the table where he had been sitting.
Lainie followed, although she wasn't sure why. She should have been running for her life.
Rory went for his sword. Jericho was much faster than Rory, but it didn’t matter.
Aaron Slade moved with stunning speed. Before Jericho could draw his sword, Aaron had upended the table and slammed it into the other men with his left hand. With his other hand, he drew his sword.
Lainie stood frozen to the spot, not even a whisper of air went through her.
Jericho had known immediately he was no match for Aaron. Hands held away from his sides, he watched Aaron with reptilian intensity.
Rory was neither as bright nor as quick as his friend was. He believed he could out fight Aaron. Rory died before he understood his mistake.
As the abrupt clash of swords faded in the room, a man called Bear stepped behind Aaron. She watched, horrified, as Bear drew his sword to kill Aaron.
Lainie had no time to think. She pulled her dirk free of her boot. No longer transfixed by the mesmerizing scene she raced forward, jammed the knife in the middle of the big man’s back and pushed with all the strength she could find. Bear fell into a chair, breaking it as if it were kindling.
Before Bear could stand, Aaron killed him, whirling in a single fluid motion and reaching inside his boot for a dirk which he sent straight through the big man’s heart. As Bear fell dead to the floor, Aaron spun back around to face Jericho.
Shocked by the stranger’s lethal speed, Lainie stood and stared for a moment before regaining her senses.
Too late she bolted from the room.
She dashed toward the forest where she’d left her mount, praying her companions had not taken her mare with them. Before the door closed, she risked a fast glance over her shoulder, wondering why she heard no swords clanging.
Gypsy was saddled, bridled and ready to go. All of Lainie’s possessions were in the saddlebags and bedroll tied behind the saddle. Now speed was more important than anything else.
In a wild last dash, Lainie threw herself into the saddle, spun Gypsy on her hocks and headed away from the tavern at a dead run. By the time Gypsy reached her top speed, the tavern lights had vanished into the darkness of the dense forest.
From the corner of his eye, Aaron glimpsed a flurry of dark wool and a breathtaking length of leg. The drum