A quick tug would free it, since it was already dangling off the larger branch. Sorrell walked over to it and realized it was a bit higher off the ground than she had thought. For anyone else it would be an easy reach, for her short height, not so much.

She smiled when she thought how easily John could pluck it down and almost regretted not waiting for him. But she was used to doing for herself, not depending on others, and she’d do so now.

Sorrell looked around, giving her options thought, and after seeing a good-sized boulder not far off, worked out a plan. If she gave herself a running start, jumped on the boulder and lunged at the branch from it, she should be able to reach the dangling branch. All she had to do was roll when she hit the ground, and she should be fine. She had done something similar before, so this shouldn’t prove difficult.

She took off her cloak and dropped it by the pile of branches, gave one last thought to her plan and took off running. She grinned as her hand reached out and caught the dangling branch with ease, but her grin vanished in a flash as the big branch, the slim one dangled from, not only came crashing down along with her but landed on her one leg, trapping it beneath it.

Thankfully, she hadn’t hit the ground too hard, though she had felt a jolt rock her body and she worried what kind of damage the branch might have done to her leg, though she felt no pain.

After resting for a moment and gathering her strength, she raised her free leg, positioning her foot against the branch and giving it a shove, but it wouldn’t budge. She tried again and again until she was breathless. Annoyed, and fatigued from her attempt to free herself, she raised herself up on her elbows to see if something could possibly be blocking the branch.

“The branch is caught on a rock. You’re not moving it, lass.”

Sorrell startled at the sound of an unfamiliar voice and tensed when the man came into view. One look told her that he wasn’t one to trust. His garments needed washing, as did the rest of him, particularly his hands, grime covered both sides and dirt was caked thick under his nails. His hair had been sheared and she suspected it was that way due to a bout with lice. It was his face that told her the most. He wore a snickering smile and he licked his lips as his eyes roamed over her.

“You got yourself in a fine way,” he said.

“Could you move the branch off me?” she asked, hoping that he would at least free her. That way she had a good chance to defend herself.

He stepped closer and sat on the big branch near her leg and rubbed at his chin, thick with stubble, no doubt the lice having gotten to his beard that had to have been cut off along with his hair.

“I don’t know about that. I haven’t had a woman in a while and never have I had a fine woman like you. I think I’ll have some fun with you first and poke you a couple of times.”

Sorrell still had hold of the branch that had gotten her into this mess and she whipped it up, swinging it back and forth in his face. He fell back off the branch when she caught his cheek with one of the swipes, leaving a red welt on it.

“I was going to be nice and treat you gentle, but not now,” he said, getting to his feet and turning an angry sneer on her.

She swung the branch again. “Come near me and I’ll bite that tiny cock of yours right off in one chomp.”

“I ain’t got no tiny cock,” he said affronted.

“Right you are, since I’ll be the one who took it from you,” Sorrell threatened and demonstrated with a strong chomp of her teeth.

“I’d run if I were you. She’s got a mighty mean bite.”

Sorrell was relieved to hear John’s voice. Even though she was confident she could handle the situation, she wasn’t sure about freeing herself of the branch.

The man stared at John for a minute, his eyes intent on him, then he took off running, and Sorrell smiled.

John dropped down on one knee beside her, though he looked in the distance now and again to make sure the dastardly man hadn’t returned.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, gently brushing dried leaves and twigs out of her hair, the mass of stubborn red curls having escaped from its strip of cloth.

“I don’t think so. I’m not in any pain.”

“You couldn’t wait, could you?” he asked, sounding as if he lightly scolded.

She grinned. “I’m stubborn.”

“On that we agree. Now lie still until I tell you otherwise. Can you do that?”


Tags: Donna Fletcher Mcardle Sisters of Courage Romance