Page 48 of The Winter Laird
She spun toward him and threw her hands on her hips. “Yes, you will!”
“God, would you listen to yourself? You sound like a three-year-old who didn’t get a toy from the toy store!” Reilly shouted.
“And you sound as though you truly want to spend the night in my dungeon,” Nioclas answered in English, his sword suddenly at Reilly’s throat.
“Nioclas, please don’t,” Brianagh gasped. “Truly, we fight like this all the time. It’s harmless.”
“Shout at my wife again, and I don’t care what kind of vows you make, you won’t see the light of day until summer.” Nioclas’s face was deadly serious. After a charged moment, he removed his sword. “And you will take her home in three months, if she wishes it.”
Reilly shot a look of pure disgust at him. “You realize that if you send her away, you’re signing thousands of death certificates.”
“What are you saying?” Aidan asked in Gaelic. “Nick, do I slay him here, or would you prefer satisfaction in the lists?”
Nioclas dropped his sword, and without taking his eyes off Reilly, replied to Aidan in Gaelic, “Neither. Have a chamber readied for him on the opposite side of the castle.” Nioclas took Brianagh’s arm and steered her away from Reilly. “Nay,” he warned when she opened her mouth.
She promptly closed her mouth, then glanced back at Reilly to see his satisfied smile. She stuck her tongue out at him with all the immaturity she could muster as Nioclas dragged her away.
But her stomach sank at the realization that her husband had heard —and understood—every word of her conversation with Reilly.
Chapter 13
Nioclas steered Bri into her solar instead of the great hall, and firmly closed, then bolted, the door.
He studied her for a moment. “You believe you lived…in a time not now.” It was more of a statement than a question.
Bri was trapped. Though he understood the words she and Reilly exchanged outside, did he really understand what they were talking about? She had no idea. His expression gave nothing away.
“Doyoubelieve I came from a different time?” she asked evasively, leaning against the alcove in her solar, which looked quite nice now that she and Erin had managed to procure some tapestries for the walls and a few embroidered pillows for the stools.
His smile wasn’t friendly when he responded. “I won’t play your games. Since you did not balk when I even mentioned such an idea, I can only conclude that you do believe it.”
Bri started to feel the sweat form on her back. She hoped he didn’t think her to be a witch. Witchcraft was an offense punishable by death. She wasn’t exactly sure what Ireland did to witches in the thirteen hundreds, but she had a feeling it involved the medieval version of s’mores and camp songs in Gaelic.
“The O’Rourke legacy isn’t a secret, but it isn’t truth, either.”
Gathering her courage in one hand and her stupidity in the other, she countered, “Are you so certain?”
Nioclas folded his arms across his chest. She could almost feel the barely leashed intensity he radiated.
He glowered. “I see you’ve been told you’re the heiress to this tale. A man cannot travel to times not his own. ’Tis unnatural.”
She nodded. “I know.”
“Yet still, you believe it.”
“What do you do to witches?” she blurted out.
Her fear must’ve shown on her face, because he immediately relaxed his stance. “Witches? I’ve yet to see any poor soul do anything to warrant the name.” He stepped closer to her, assessing. “Do you believe yourself to be a witch, Brianagh?”
“No,” she reassured him quickly, pressing herself against the alcove. “I just don’t want anyone else thinking I’m one. I’m not a fan of bonfires.”
“The MacWilliams do not burn witches, suspected or otherwise,” Nioclas said firmly. “However, there are other clans who do, so be wary with your words.”
“You mean, don’t spread it around that I’m from six hundred years from now? I have no intention of ever mentioning that to anyone. I don’t want to be burned at a stake.”
“Six hundred years?” he asked. His expression showed incredulity; he believed her to be daft. “You won’t be burned. You’re protected by my name,” Nioclas replied, and Brianagh could sense his patience was nearing its end.
“Thanks for that. Um, anyway, we should probably make sure Reilly’s all set, and I have to tell Keela—”
