“Bob,” called the one Phoebe believed to be the leader.
“Aye, Zachariah.” A large man astride a massive horse entered the circle of men.
“Where’s Cary and John?” Zachariah demanded.
Bob jerked his head in the direction he’d come as two more men became visible behind him.
Zachariah looked back at the first man. “You and Frank hide in the trees near Borthwick bridge. When they cross, fire a shot so that we know they’re there, then block their rear.” Zachariah looked at the other men. “You four get down below the bridge. If they try to jump, give them a taste of your pistol. But whatever you do, aim for the sky. Kill the wrong man and we end up with nothing.”
Phoebe's blood went cold. The 'wrong man' Zachariah referred to could be none other than Kiernan MacGregor, the Marquess of Ashlund, son of a wealthy duke. He would bring a fine ransom.
“What about our employer?”
“What about him?” Zachariah said.
Yes, Phoebe wondered, what about him?
“Don’t strike me as the type to like being double-crossed.”
“He doesn’t run this band,” Zachariah growled. “I do.”
“What if he comes looking for us?” another asked.
“It won’t matter, we’ll be long gone. You men want to keep working this drudge of a country?”
Grunts of agreement went around.
“Get going, then,” Zachariah commanded.
The men turned their horses east and Phoebe knew they were headed for the valley she had left half an hour ago. She waited until they disappeared, then hurried back to her horse. She mounted, then urged him back through the holly bushes and down the mountainside toward the valley. Fifteen minutes later, the terrain leveled out and she snapped the reins against the gelding’s rear. He shot forward.
“Heddy,” Phoebe muttered as she hunkered down, “I'll choke every last breath from you when I return home. As for you, Ashlund, I'll shoot you myself if these brigands don’t do it for me.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
The wide valley became visible beyond the thinning trees and Phoebe brought her horse to a standstill on the hill’s edge. The moon illuminated a grass-covered basin strewn with rocks and ground-hugging brush. Further scrutiny was halted by the discovery of riders entering the long valley at a gallop from the north. She squinted at the tall figure in the lead. A cloak lashed behind him in the wind. Kiernan MacGregor. She looked south where the valley narrowed and spotted the bridge where Zachariah and his men waited. She pulled the derringer from her pocket and kicked her horse’s ribs. He neighed and lunged ahead. Phoebe leaned into him as he sped down the hill. The chill of the autumn night penetrated the sleeves of her dress. She tucked her head down and bent closer to the horse's neck.
Moments later, the ground leveled and they shot from the trees. Directly ahead, Kiernan and his men were midway into the valley. Shouts went up from his party. Kiernan whipped his horse around on an intercept course. The two men with him followed. In less than a minute, they were within shouting distance.
“You’re riding into a trap!” Phoebe yelled. “There are brigands waiting for you at the bridge.”
Kiernan glanced over his shoulder in the direction of the bridge, then faced her.
“Two men are acting as lookout,” Phoebe brought her horse up short as Kiernan and his men did the same beside her. “They mean to block your retreat,” she panted. “Four men are below the bridge and another waits on the other side.”
“What?” Kiernan demanded. Then, before she could respond, “Damnation, woman, are you trying to catch your death?”
He whipped off his plaid cloak and edged his horse closer. Her gelding shied, but before she could pull back on the reins, Kiernan grabbed the beast’s bridle and stilled him.
“MacGregor!” one of his men cried as he threw the cloak around her shoulders.
Kiernan whirled his horse in unison with shouts that abruptly emanated from the opposite side of the valley. Phoebe jerked her attention toward the shouts and saw two riders emerge from trees near the bridge.
“They spotted us,” she said. "There are six of them."
"How do you know that?" Kiernan demanded. "Never mind. When this is finished I'll beat it out of you." He looked at his men. "Take care of them." He motioned toward the approaching brigands and the men started toward them. He brought his gaze back to bear on Phoebe. “Get to the other side of the valley and stay inside the trees.” He snapped the reins across his steed’s rump. The horse leapt into action.
“Ashlund!” she shouted. “They intend to kidnap and ransom you.”
“Do as I say or I'll beat you here and now,” he called over his shoulder.