The Draig's Woman Read Free Page A

while taking classes, she forced his wrist to snap backward, and the sword fell to the ground.
    Lunging for the weapon, Claire yelled to Ian and threw it toward him. The dazed expressions told her that she had surprised them all. Ian had the good sense to catch the weapon and turned to face the other two attackers. A harsh smile covered his face; it would seem the laird had no issue taking vengeance.
    She held her ground as her attacker rose from the forest floor. The obvious pain from the broken wrist slowed his movements. Claire yelled at him to stay down and then to back away. As he lunged for her, she reacted with years of training. The sidekick to his chest knocked him back down to the ground. Quickly straddling his chest and holding him locked in a firm front mount, his arms and legs were effectively pinned. She offered him one last chance. “Stop now.”
    His body bucked beneath her hold. She knew it was only a matter of moments before her advantage was gone. He spoke his threat clearly. “You will suffer before you die.” Just before the man broke free, Claire struck. Her hand rose with knuckles pointing out, and the knuckles struck him hard in his throat. She held him firm to the ground as he struggled for air that would not come until he ceased all movement.
    Feeling Ian standing behind her, Claire rose from the man lying on the ground. She muttered, “He wouldn’t stay down . . . I had no choice, he just . . . kept getting up.” Claire’s eyes were large and unfocused as she stared at the dead man at her feet. She tottered in her heels as the realization struck her.
    I killed someone .
    Stumbling away from the body, Claire fell to her knees as the bile rose in her throat.
    “Lass, there was no choice, ever. If you had nay killed him, it would have been you lying upon the ground. But how did you do this? You have no weapon.” The surprise was more than evident in Ian’s tone.
    The reply came from memory. “I am the weapon.” The words spoken during so many martial arts classes were delivered with a flat voice. Looking up at Ian, but not seeing anything, she explained, “I punched him in the throat, and I broke his windpipe so that he couldn’t breathe.” Ian’s hand reached out to help her from the ground. Refusing to be distracted by his touch, she rose on her own. She brushed the pebbles from her knees as she wobbled on her heels.
    “For such fine skill, I will always be grateful. Claire, I have no words to express my thanks. You fought for the weapon I hold in my hand and saved me from recapture. But we are nay safe yet. There were better-trained men with these fools. I fear that they will soon arrive. We need to leave and leave now. I will keep you safe, but we must ride.” Facing away from her, Ian gave a loud whistle. A black horse trotted into sight. “Samson is very wise, lass, and he had the good sense to avoid capture, unlike his master.”
    Claire saw the giant black stallion, and panic followed. “I can’t leave. My passage home is here. Maybe I just need to keep trying.” Turning to face home, she stopped in mid-step. There was no door. There was only the forest as far as the eye could see. She stood and stared, unable to move as her heart hammered in her chest.
    “I just want to go back,” she whispered.
    Ian led the horse to Claire’s side and spoke gently. “Come, lass, we need to go. The danger is too great in this place.” Not waiting her for approval, he lifted her gently onto the stallion.
    “I need my bag.” Claire’s voice was hollow, void of any emotion as she settled onto the animal’s back. Ian grabbed the black bag from the ground and handed it to Claire. She gripped it tight, grateful for something familiar in her hands. Ian’s large body filled the space behind her, and she stiffened as his arm wrapped around her waist. Her pulse raced as his face dipped and he inhaled deeply of her hair. For just a flash of a moment, her breath stuck in her throat as the