Page 5 of The Laird's Unwanted Wife
The man’s steps drew closer. Through the crack of the wardrobe, Aileen watched as the warrior’s sword drew upright, his hand reaching for the knob. She pressed her back against the wardrobe, pulling Mollie behind her to the best of her ability. This had been a terrible idea; she should never have come back to the keep.
The moment she saw the flames, the rioters, the death and destruction, Aileenshouldhave known it wasn’t safe. But they had been traveling for weeks, their scavenged food all but non-existent. She’d been so dizzy, she hadn’t been thinking straight. Now Mollie was going to pay for her weakness.
If he ran them through, could she fully stop the sword with her chest? If he slashed across, could she push Mollie down quickly enough? And if he didn’t want to kill them right away … if his mind was far more creative than simply offering death? Everything blurred and swirled in her head, the touch of Mollie’s face all that kept Aileen from losing herself completely.
The moment the man’s hands grasped the wardrobe’s knob, Aileen’s body tensed, ready for whatever was to come. But instead of the doors being thrown open, she watched as a dark shade crashed into the stranger, taking him to the ground with a snarling growl.
“Bannock!” With whatever strength she had left, Aileen barreled out of the wardrobe, using the door to slam against the man’s face for further damage. He staggered back, hitting Marcus’ work desk as Bannock’s teeth clamped tightly around his arm. His sword clattered to the ground, his fist curling as he tried to shake the massive black deerhound off, trying to pry her jaws open and free himself.
Snaking her arm around Mollie’s waist, Aileen made a mad dash for the door, keeping her hands firmly wrapped around the child as she could finally scream out in protest.
“Bannock, go back! Leelee! Go back!”
Aileen ignored her sister, grasping the door’s handle while shifting Mollie’s weight under her arm.
“Leelee!”
She blinked back tears at Bannock’s pained whine, finally managing to yank the door open. But she wasn’t fully ready for the weight shift, and suddenly, Mollie squirmed free from her grasp. She took off across the room, her arms outstretched toward Bannock as the man tried to shake the deerhound free from his arm.
“Mollie!”
“Daenae hurt Bannock, ye bully!”
Gerald barely had time to register Marcus’ face as it suddenly appeared beside him. At this point, the hellish hound released its grip on his arm, bounding back and standing before Marcus with bloody and frothed spit dripping between its fangs.
Marcus—no, it wasn’t him. She was too young—she was ashe—but it truly was like seeing the ghost of the man he once called a friend. Gerald cradled his arm close to his chest, unable to stop himself from staring at the flush-faced child. Did Marcus have adaughter? He’d never been married—or was this simply another lie to add to the ever-growing list?
He quite suddenly found his own sword pointed at his face. As his eyes trailed to the thief, Gerald found himself somewhat taken aback. The woman had to hold the weapon with both hands, trembling and dangerously thin, as if she were merely a walking skeleton playing pretend.
Even with her gaunt appearance, he found himself taken in by the way she held herself, the glimmer of determination in her soft brown eyes. The three of them were almost … otherworldly. As if Gerald had somehow stumbled upon a troupe of fair folk crossing through, only to have gotten completely turned around within MacGunn’s keep.
“Stay back,” the woman demanded, though her shaking voice and hoarse tone hardly registered as a threat.
Gerald raised his uninjured arm, leaning as far as he could away from the sword’s point. She watched him like a wild animal pinned in the corner. If she wanted to, Gerald was certain she might’ve managed to get in a hit before he took her down. Not that he wanted the encounter to end in bloodshed. “I’m nae goin’ to hurt ye, lass.”
The woman scoffed, swaying slightly. God, but she was so thin. The girl hiding behind the nightmarish beast didn’t fare any better, though she only seemed dirty and cold. Perhaps not well-fed, but certainly faring better than the woman was.
“I’m nae goin’ to hurt ye,” Gerald repeated softly. “Ye have me sword and yer beast has wounded me arm. I’m hardly in a position to fight back.”
That seemed to grant some reassurance to the woman. Not enough for her to lower his sword, but if he kept talking, Gerald was certain she’d pass out soon enough.
“Ye tried to hurt Bannock,” the little girl sobbed.
“Mollie,” the woman hissed.
“I … I didnae want ye to hurt her.” Mollie poked her head out from behind the deerhound’s frame, though the beast shifted herself in an attempt to block the girl from view. Mollie persisted, stepping out from behind the dog as the woman tried to block her.
“Yer beast gave me a bit of a fright,” Gerald admitted. “I just tried shakin’ her free; she had quite the grip, though.”
Mollie glanced down at his arm, fat tears welling up in her eyes as she spoke. “Bannock was mean to ye, too. I … I didnae want ye to get?—”
“It’s all right, wee one,” Gerald reassured. “Yer hound did her job well. But I would like to treat the wound. If ye could tell …” His eyes flickered to the woman, looking weaker by the second.
“Leelee,” Mollie said, though she earned a slight scowl from the woman in return.
“Leelee.” Gerald nodded slowly. “Aye … if ye could tell Leelee to put me sword down, I promise I willnae harm either of ye.”
Neither Leelee nor the massive deerhound looked convinced. But Mollie seemed eager to believe him, carefully approaching Gerald with her small hand extended outward. “Ye shake on it, will ye?”
