Page 82 of The Winter Laird
Nioclas looked him in the eye. “She’s not the key to the legacy, Donovan. Sheisthe legacy.” At Donovan’s stare, he groaned. “For the love of all that is holy, are you going to help me get her back or not?”
“Of course,” Donovan replied. “And then we’ll attempt to locate your mind.”
“Arse,” Nioclas muttered as Aidan came bounding into the stables.
“It’s over, Nick, and we’ve lost thirteen—seven guards, six villagers. The others are cleaning up and I’ll have all the Kildares and Burkes brought back to the Kildare land. They’ll bring Kildare first.”
“His wife will be relieved at his death,” Donovan said quietly.
“As will his daughter,” Nioclas agreed. “Perhaps they can breathe easier, knowing he’s dead. Let’s go get Brianagh before our sire does her serious harm.”
Aidan shook his head. “Nick, he probably doesn’t know about her.”
“Never underestimate that man,” Nioclas replied darkly. “He knows. And I think he’s taking her east.”
“Didn’t O’Malley tell you to keep her away from there?” Aidan asked cautiously.
“Aye, and I’m worried.” He quickly outlined his thoughts to Aidan. “We can’t let him change history.”
“Nay,” Aidan agreed, opening the stall for his own horse and mounting it. “We cannot.”
“Donovan, travel southwest, toward Burke’s lands. I need to cover every part of this country. Leave Bri’s guard with Erin and take your men. If you find Burke, don’t hesitate. Just kill him where he stands and bring the body back here.” Nioclas swung around to his brother. “Aidan, you’ll travel east with me. With seven less guardsmen, I’ll need you guarding my back against him.”
“We meet back here in a sennight,” Donovan said, “or send a messenger with news. Godspeed, MacWilliams.”
Aidan grasped Donovan’s hand, then turned to Nioclas. “Eastward. Lead on.”
Chapter 24
Brianagh had no idea where she was headed, but she had a suspicion she was being held for ransom.
It was the only logical explanation she could come up with for the events of the last twenty-four hours. When she gathered the courage to ask what her kidnapper wanted from her, he merely smiled and drew his sword across her upper arm.
As far as fear tactics went, it was highly successful. She did little more than breathe from that point on. At some point during the night, three men on horseback joined them, closing ranks around her and her captor.
His guard.
Her arm stopped bleeding a few hours after he sliced her. It ached abominably, but she knew it was not as deep as it felt. He’d merely scratched her to prove he was serious and scare her into silence. She hated that it worked, but she thought he really might kill her.
From the small snippets of conversations the men had, one of them finally said her captor’s name.
Burke.
A whole new wave of fear shook her. Burke—the same man who threw her into his dungeon—apparently had some issue with her that she couldn’t quite figure out. But when they finally dismounted and he tied her wrists together with a rope, she realized she didn’t have to.
“We will sleep here tonight. These men here have their orders. If you try to run, they will not kill you.” Burke yanked her against him, putting his face inches from hers. “They will hold you down and take turns having their way with you. And when they’re done, I’ll have my turn, and you’ll wish it was them again.”
He leaned back and grinned, taking a deep breath in. “I love the smell of your fear, Lady O’Rourke. Or do you prefer Lady MacWilliam? That’s not truly a clan name, anyway. I removed them when the woman I married proved inept.” He leaned forward once more, his beady eyes glittering in the moonlight. “I hope you don’t prove to be inept.”
She shook her head frantically, and he shoved her to the ground. “Sleep there,” he barked, “and don’t make any noise.” He indicated to one of the other men. “We camp here for a few hours, then move again. You’ll take first watch.” Burke made himself a bed of blankets he pulled from the saddlebags and laid down. Blowing her a kiss, he whispered, “Sleep well, my lady. Tomorrow, we ride for Dublin.”
Brianagh dozed but never fully slept. Each time she opened her eyes, Burke was smiling at her. Her stomach roiled at the sight and sweat trickled down her back. She had to figure out a way to get away from him. If she had to die, she wanted it to be trying to get back to Nioclas and not at the hands of his deranged enemy.
As dawn broke, Brianagh was back on the horse, heading (she assumed) toward Dublin she presumed. Her wrists were chafed raw from the bindings. When his horse couldn’t run as fast as he wanted, Burke decided it was time for a new horse. He redirected them to a village where he very pleasantly stole a new horse—after reminding her of his skill with a sword and of her fate if she were to run.
She was allowed to place her hands inside her cloak during the half hour it took for him to purchase the horse with a bag of gold coins. And after he checked the inside of her cloak for anything she may have picked up in the village, he allowed her to keep her hands inside.
The man’s changeability was as frightening as his sword.
