Page 96 of The Winter Laird
She nodded, and they darted into the hall and up the stairs. The sounds of battle cries and men dying came from all sides.
“I must find Burke,” Nioclas said quietly. “This doesn’t end until he dies.”
She nodded wordlessly. He kissed her once more, then was gone.
She barricaded the door and set to pacing.
* * *
Brianagh hadno idea how long she stayed in the chamber. The battle cries had died down long ago, and still she paced, alone, unsure as to what she should do next. Nioclas hadn’t yet come for her, and every noise she heard made her jump. The afternoon light was beginning to fade. There wasn’t much daylight in the winter, and she knew firsthand how cold it would become. She had no kindling for a fire, and the shutters in the chamber had broken in a few places, allowing the cold air to seep into her bones.
She wrapped her arms about herself and plodded to the window to look out across the bailey. A heavy mist had rolled in from the sea, enveloping the castle in its embrace. It clung to the battlements, shrouding the castle from the village beyond. Brianagh felt as though she were suspended in a castle atop a cloud.
Brianagh avoided looking down. The number of dead bodies strewn across the bailey made her nauseous. The smell of blood wasn’t helping, either. But mostly, her fear as to why Nioclas hadn’t come for her yet had her wishing for a stronger stomach.
A sudden, insistent banging had her spinning to the door, her heart in her throat.
“Open up, Brianagh!” Nioclas called.
She ran to the door and fumbled with the latch and the large piece of wood she’d laid across the bars on either side. With it finally unlocked, she threw the door open and lunged into her husband’s arms.
“Easy,” he said soothingly, running a blood-caked hand over her hair. “We’re safe. The castle is ours again.”
“Is he dead?” she asked, her voice shaking.
“We can’t find him,” Aidan said from behind Nioclas. “We think he ran, the coward.”
She glanced around Nioclas and saw all of them—Aidan, Donovan, Reilly, and Colin—standing in the hallway, battle-weary warriors. She was profoundly grateful for each of them.
They walked downstairs together. Brianagh covered her mouth and tried to quiet her stomach at the dead men around them.
“Mostly Kildares,” Nioclas said with a sigh. “If he had but taken my alliance…”
“He was a fool, and his people suffered for it,” Colin said with a grimace, walking to the only table left in the hall. Leaning on the wall next to the hearth, he rubbed his face with his hands. “These are difficult times, MacWilliam.”
“We need to find him,” Aidan said, his voice low and insistent. “He won’t stop until we are both dead, and Brianagh is his to control.”
“Aye,” Nioclas agreed, pulling Brianagh in front of him and wrapping his arms around her protectively. He watched as his surviving clansmen began to drag the bodies out of the hall. “I should send scouts out—”
“Send me,” Aidan cut in.
Nioclas dropped his arms from Bri. “Nay. I thought I’d lost you once before and I could barely stand it. I cannot afford to lose you again.”
Aidan grabbed Nioclas’s arm and gave him a hard shake. “I must find him,” he said fiercely. “He will not stop, Nick. He’ll find more men to attack us—you, me, Brianagh, our clan. And what about your children? He’ll come after them as well.”
Nioclas remained silent, acknowledging the truth of it.
“Only I can do this,” Aidan said, hardening his resolve. “You must send me—our clan needs you here.”
Nioclas closed his eyes briefly, and when he opened them a moment later, they were hard chips of granite. “Cian!” he called out to an older man who joined them by the hearth. Turning to Aidan, Nioclas placed a hand on his shoulder. “You will take the utmost care.”
“Aye,” Aidan replied, his voice strong.
“My laird?” Cian asked, giving a quick bow.
“How many elders are alive?”
“Five, and I hope you know our loyalty still lays, and always has, with you.”
