Chapter 5

Lucky's POV

The horses became uneasy, and so did their owners. A quick glance behind us revealed that we had run into a trap.

Marcus snarled something between his teeth. He was angry and bitter. Not only had he ended up in a trap, but his followers were here because of him as well.

"McCollum!" said a firm and satisfied voice. I looked up and saw a tall man stepping forward. He had a grin on his narrow and slick face that literally made him look evil. But I thought that was his plan. They had fallen into his trap, and he didn’t hide the fact that he was satisfied. His hair was brown, and so were his eyes—or at least I thought they were—and all in all, he was actually good-looking. Yet somehow, he gave me the creeps. “We meet again!”

“Captain Fitzwilliam,” Marcus said, his voice as hard as stone, sending shivers down my spine. “It’s been too long.”

“Dismount!” the captain commanded, but nothing happened. The guns were ready to fire, but the Scots didn’t move a muscle until their leader gave the clearance with a small nod. Then, finally, the men dismounted—defiant until the end.

“For your crimes, I’ll have you hanged, and your men shot like the dogs they are,” he said, and the redcoats moved in to arrest them. I was still hidden behind the horse, but I had a feeling that once I was discovered, I would either be shot or have some explaining to do. Not to mention that even if my life was spared, what about Marcus and the others?

“Crimes?” Marcus asked, this time with a sarcastic smile. “Oh, you mean my little speech the other day? Hardly a crime, wouldn’t you say?”

“You spoke against the king!”

“I will always speak out for the rights of any free man,” Marcus answered as they stood face to face. My heart sank. The rights of any free man? They were fighting for their freedom? I suddenly started to shiver. Back home, we too were prisoners of our own homes and land. Sold, because someone else had the power to do so. And I suddenly found myself wishing that someone would speak up for us. For my people…

“I’ll cut out your treacherous tongue…,” Fitzwilliam snarled but stopped mid-sentence when he suddenly seemed to notice me. He looked at me, and just like the Scots, he quickly figured out that I wasn’t one of them. And like lightning from a blue sky, I suddenly had an idea that could save all our asses.

“And who’s this lovely creature?” he asked in a completely different tone, his expression changing so that—if I hadn’t known better—he looked like a gentleman.

“Distressed,” I said firmly, knowing that I didn’t need to act much to get him to believe in my unfortunate situation. I was still bruised and battered from my battle with the sea god, so I could easily let him believe I had experienced some great misfortune.

“Here, allow me!” he continued in a calm and gentle manner, reaching out to me. When his hands touched my skin, it sent a shiver all the way down my spine. I recognized that feeling. I had encountered men before with the faces of angels—their manners kind and their intentions deadly. Cruel and heartless. Yes, I knew exactly what kind of man he was. My people-meter was working just fine.

“Good God! You’re shaking!” he continued, looking at me intently. “Tell me, did these men approach you in an inappropriate manner?” I didn’t answer. Just one glance at the man they all had called ‘lord’ was enough for Fitzwilliam to make his own conclusion. For a man like Fitzwilliam, my silence spoke volumes.

“I honestly thought this was beneath you, McCollum!” he said, and even though he tried to sound upset, there was still a slight satisfaction in his voice, revealing his pleasure in tarnishing McCollum’s name.

“I can assure you, I had no part in the lady’s sudden change of state,” Marcus answered with dignity, looking down at me. I thought he felt betrayed, but I would just have to explain it to him later—hopefully. I also noticed that he was treated better than the rest of his men, as he was still allowed to stand, while the others were forced down on their knees with guns to their heads. Perhaps he really was a lord.

“Take them away and kill them like the dogs they are,” Fitzwilliam ordered, and my heart started to race. My turn now. And if I didn’t play this part perfectly, we’d all end up dead. I leaned forward and hid my face in his coat. My entire body shivered as I heard them being taken away. Well, at least I didn’t have to act scared. This was literally life or death…

“Wait, please!” I whispered, looking down at the ground. My heart was still pounding as I felt his grip tighten. Perhaps he thought I was going to confess my love for the Scots or their ideals. Well, that wouldn’t be too far off, since I did this because of just that—their ideals. But first, I was going to betray them.

I looked up and met the face of a man eager to kill. But somehow, I could hear my grandmother’s voice inside my head: never underestimate a woman’s wit or a man’s stupidity to fall for it. The words gave me courage, and I pressed on.

“I cannot express my gratitude to you enough, sir, nor will I ever be able to retell the horrors I’ve…” I made a dramatic pause and, before continuing, silently thanked my grandfather for his conservative and strict ideas about a woman’s dress. “But please, I beg you. As you can see from my attire, I am a religious person, and I was traveling with my mission to preach the Word of God to heathens in Spain. If I allow my personal feelings…” Again, I stopped, gasping for air as though I needed the time to pray. “If these men die and their souls are eternally damned, their blood will be on my hands, don’t you see? I beg you! How could I speak the Word of God knowing there’s sin in my heart?”

He looked at me with a glint in his eyes that I understood all too well. I couldn’t take it and had to look away—not just to play innocent, but because I couldn’t stand being this close to him without wanting to knock him out cold.

“You are as kind as you are beautiful,” he suddenly said. I looked up, and his eyes met mine.

“Sir?”

And this time, I wasn’t acting. I had been called a lot of things throughout my life, but beautiful? Never! And while looking into his eyes, I believed he meant it. But whether I responded or not, it seemed to be working.

“Very well,” he said with a sigh and turned to one of his officers. “Lorence! Cease firing! We’ll bring them along so they—hopefully—will ask for forgiveness for their sins.”

The man called Lorence immediately carried out the order, and the Scots were led away in chains, along with the garrison, back to the fort. They were alive.

“Thank you very kindly, sir,” I said, using all my self-control not to jump up and down or sigh in relief. But this was just act one. I had a long way to go if I wanted everything to go the way I wished. “How will I ever repay this?”

“Your smile is gratitude enough,” he said, smiling, though he seemed to be exerting some self-control himself. “Come! When we arrive at the fort, I want to hear all about you.”

He put his arm around me and led me to his horse. I smiled calmly, while inside, I was panicking. About myself?! Shit, this should be good…