Page 93 of The Winter Laird

“How wouldyouknow?” Reilly asked suspiciously.

Erin gulped. “I-I saw the missive.”

Brianagh didn’t bother to hide her exasperation. “Erin, explain what you’re talking about. What missive? What don’t I know?”

“Reilly wrote a missive to Nick—it was definitely in some sort of code, but being as I’d already overheard Reilly and Nick discussing how you’re truly the O’Rourke legacy, I figured out the rest quickly. Bri, not only can you travel through time, but you can actually bend it to your will.”

“He was supposed to burn that,” Reilly said darkly. “If that got into the wrong hands—”

“Oh, I’m sure he did burn it,” Erin replied quickly. “I just got to it before him.”

“Your curiosity knows no bounds,” Aidan said, slightly awed.

Brianagh walked up to Reilly and pinched his arm as hard as she could.

“Ow! What the—”

“Tell me everything. Now, Reilly.” She put her face within inches of his. “Everything. Now.”

Reilly rubbed his arm and pouted. “Well, yeah, I mean, sure you have the ability to do it…”

“You opened the wall,” Colin reminded her. “Remember? When I was dragging MacWilliam, my hands weren’t free. When you placed your hands on the wall, you gave it the power to go where you wanted.”

“I just wanted to get to Reilly,” she replied.

“And Reilly knew that, which is why he had the Range Rover ready and James knew what was going on,” Colin explained.

“The pieces fit, but you led me to believe that I was stuck in the future! Without any way to get back to Nioclas!”

“I didn’t want you to put the baby at risk by doing something colossally stupid,” Reilly shot back. “I know you better than you know yourself!”

“Wait—baby?” Erin gasped. “Bri, you’re with child?”

She gave an impatient nod. “Yes, but just barely.”

Donovan held up his hands to silence them. “I don’t understand much of what you’re saying, but what I’m gathering is that Lady Brianagh can move time to her will, and she’s carrying the future MacWilliam laird.”

“This is insane,” Brianagh muttered, beginning to pace again.

“We’ve wasted enough time,” Aidan said in agreement. “All this can wait until after we rescue my brother. It shouldn’t be too difficult, right? I mean, Burke doesn’t have many who are loyal to him.”

“He has the Kildares,” Donovan cut in. “He and Kildare made a binding agreement that, in the event Kildare died during battle, Burke would assume control of the clan until a battle for the lairdship could be arranged.”

“Clever bastard,” Aidan growled. “The Kildares will swear loyalty to anyone for the right price.”

“Any price,” Donovan agreed. “They’re no better than mercenaries. Right now, there’s at least two score of Kildare men at the castle.”

“Then we’d best figure out how to get past them and rescue my husband, don’t you think?” Brianagh arched a brow.

“Aye,” Donovan replied. “Let’s plan our attack.”

* * *

Dawn’s lightfiltered through the small window Nioclas himself built, two stories above his head. He cursed himself and his foresight to create an inescapable dungeon.

The heavy locks on the gate that led up the stairs to the lists were forged by his own blacksmith not two years ago. The key, once upon his own belt, now rested with his insane father, whose daily joy had become torturing Nioclas for information about Aidan and Brianagh’s whereabouts.

Nioclas didn’t know for certain where his wife and brother went, but he did hope they were safe. Burke claimed he was still looking for them, but Nioclas couldn’t know for certain. His sire enjoyed nothing more than instilling fear in his prisoners—or his clansmen.

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