Читать книгу Forbidden Night With The Highlander - Michelle Willingham - Страница 10

Chapter Two

Lianna was on her hands and knees, cleaning a small pile of dirt from the floor when her brother Sían strode into the gathering space. He smiled warmly at her. ‘You needn’t kneel on my behalf, Sister.’

His teasing was meant to make her laugh, but she could not bring herself to do so. Inwardly, she was still shaken by the encounter with Gavin MacAllister. The Highlander had struck her speechless with his handsome face, and God help her, the kiss had made her into a trembling mess. It wasn’t her first, but it was so very different from the dry peck upon her mouth, only given because one boy had dared another. No, Gavin’s kiss had unravelled her senses. She had hardly been able to ride back to their fortress, for her face was burning with startled embarrassment.

Men didn’t pay attention to her. They didn’t even like her. As she rose from the floor, folding the cloth into a rectangle, she didn’t miss the smirk from one of their kinsmen standing nearby.

‘You missed a grain of sand,’ Robbie mocked her. ‘Just there.’

She glanced in the direction he pointed but saw nothing. The arrogant look in his eyes bothered her, and she looked to Sían to say something. But her brother ignored it, pulling out a chair before he sat.

‘What have you seen this day?’ he asked. ‘Did any of the crofters’ homes have cobwebs, or God forbid, a rat?’

Robbie snickered, but she ignored the man. The truth was, she’d forgotten to inspect the homes at all. She ought to confess to her brother the truth, that she had encountered Gavin MacAllister. And yet, a part of her wanted to hold that memory to herself.

Instead, she repeated what she had already told him in the past. ‘Hamish and Maire lost two of their cattle to raiders. Their daughter, Lara, will give birth in the spring. And Orna is growing old and is suffering from aching of her hands and feet. Most of our people lack enough supplies to last through the winter. We need to be prepared.’

A part of her knew she ought to use her precious hoard of coins to buy supplies for her kinsmen, but she hoped that the Norman would take her exchange and give her freedom from the marriage. If he refused, she would use the silver to help her clan.

Sían sighed. ‘Then everything with our clan is the same as always. What would I do without your observations?’ He winked at his men, and Lianna decided to broach the subject she feared the most.

‘Father has told me that the Norman has arrived with his men. He still wants me to marry Rhys de Laurent.’ She gripped her hands together, waiting to hear his response. Sían had the most to lose, for once de Laurent married her, he would take command of the clan.

At that, her brother’s expression turned cold. ‘Is that so?’ There was a cruel air within his voice, and he stood, resting his hand upon the dagger at his waist.

Lianna raised her eyes to his, pleading, ‘Will you speak to Father on my behalf?’ She knew her best hope was to flatter her brother’s ego. ‘You should be the clan chief, not a stranger.’ She steeled herself and said, ‘If you can stop this marriage, I would be so grateful.’

Her brother did appear irritated by the idea of losing command. ‘You are right that I should be the leader of our people. Father is sick, and we must be prepared for the worst.’

‘Thank you,’ she murmured. Her heart did worry over Alastair, for even during these past summer months, he had struggled to overcome a hacking cough. Sían had offered to take over his duties, but their father had refused. His pride prevented him from accepting help.

Sían took her hand and patted it as if she were a child. ‘Does this Norman truly think he can trespass upon our land, plant a babe within you, and steal all that we have worked for?’ He met the gazes of their kinsmen, who appeared as angry as he did. ‘It will not happen.’

‘Perhaps it could be avoided,’ Lianna suggested. ‘Give him another bride, if he wants an alliance with us.’ Surely there was a young maid who would not mind living with a wealthy Norman.

‘He can have your maid, Orna,’ Sían remarked with a hearty laugh. ‘As old as she is, she won’t mind at all.’

But Lianna did not share in his laughter. She stood and walked away from the men, knowing that Sían would not be serious until they were alone. As she hoped, he started to follow. ‘Peace, my sister. We will walk awhile and talk about this.’

Which meant he would discuss nothing in front of their kinsmen. She understood his need to remain a respected leader among them.

They walked in silence for half a mile before Sían turned serious. ‘You are frightened of this marriage.’

‘I am,’ she admitted. ‘I hope that the Norman will turn me down, that he will not want a woman like me.’ No one did, for she knew most of the men made fun of her behind her back. They didn’t understand her, and she didn’t expect them to.

‘It matters not if he wants someone like you. He would not willingly surrender command of Eiloch,’ her brother answered. ‘Our lands hold value, and he will want to gain favour in the sight of the English king by claiming them.’

‘It doesn’t have to be me,’ she whispered. ‘Why can we not ask him to go back? If we pay him, he may consider it. I have saved some silver over the years.’

Sían’s eyes clouded a moment. ‘Indeed.’ Then he let out a sigh and dropped his arm across her shoulders. ‘I will not let any man hurt you, Lianna. I promise you that. Especially not a Norman bastard.’

She wanted to believe her brother could defend her, but this agreement had been made before she was born. Not only that, but she knew the strength of the Norman warriors. They could tear the clan apart, leaving the crofters’ homes in ashes.

Fear sank its claws into her, and she tried to steady herself. Right now, she needed a mindless activity to help occupy her time. The winter stores could be reorganised, and she decided it would be a good distraction.

‘Is there someone else you would rather wed?’ her brother asked. With a light teasing tone, he added, ‘Someone you have your eye on?’

The image of Gavin MacAllister suddenly invaded her mind. His body had filled out the MacKinloch clothing he wore, and she had welcomed the feeling of his arms around her. Even his kiss had captivated her senses.

Her face flushed, and her brother’s expression gleamed. ‘Who is he, Lianna?’

She covered her cheeks and shook her head. ‘No one.’ To avoid answering questions, she turned her back.

Sían laughed quietly. ‘You will not tell me, I see.’ He only ruffled her hair and said, ‘Don’t fear, Lianna. I will handle everything. You need not wed this man.’

‘What will you do if the Normans will not listen to reason?’ she asked. She knew better than to think it would be an easy escape.

A sly smile came over her brother’s face. ‘Don’t worry your head over that. Trust that I ken what is best.’

She wanted to trust in him, but could not quite bring herself to do so. Sían never prepared for the future, but made decisions depending on his moods—and his decisions changed by the hour. Although she might love him as her brother, he was utterly unreliable. But she wanted to believe that he would intervene on her behalf, if she asked it of him. She had to hold on to her faith.

Worry gripped her with the fear of her father dying. After her mother’s death in childbirth when Lianna was eight years old, he was all she had left. Although she had never understood Alastair’s fierce desire for a Norman alliance, he had been a kind and loving father. More than once, he had confessed that he wished she had been the firstborn son.

‘I know that you care for our people,’ he’d said. ‘You see what they truly need, instead of what they tell others to salvage their pride.’

His praise had warmed her heart, and because of it, she’d tried to fill the emptiness left behind by her mother. Davina had kept their house immaculate, and Lianna had tried to do the same. By holding on to her mother’s ways, it was a means of remembering her.

Sían walked back with her to the fortress, and Lianna parted ways from him, moving towards the thatched shelter that housed the entrance to the underground storage chamber. She climbed down the ladder, adjusting her woollen brat against her shoulders. All along the stone walls, she had organised food stores by grains and fruits. Now, she wondered if it might be better to sort them according to the month the foods had been harvested. It was nearly autumn, but she was well aware that there was a dire lack of supplies.

After an hour of sorting, she had regained command of her fear. It was frigid below the ground, and she climbed back up the ladder, only to see her brother on horseback with several men. They were gathering weapons, and she overheard one of the men jeering about the Normans. Her brother had a bow and quiver of arrows strapped across his shoulder.

Had Rhys de Laurent arrived, then? A sudden uneasiness caught her heart, and she picked up her skirts, hurrying towards them. ‘Sían, where are you going? Why do you have weapons?’

He wasn’t planning an attack, was he?

Her brother only smiled. ‘We’re going hunting, Lianna. You said yourself that we’ve a lack of food.’

She wished she could feel a sense of relief, but one of his kinsmen had an axe strapped to his waist. It was not a weapon meant for hunting animals, and she could not relinquish her suspicions, despite his words.

Sían smiled at her and added, ‘Don’t you want fresh venison or pheasant?’

His tone bothered her, for she was deeply afraid that he meant to attack the Norman travelling party. If he did, it would bring war among them, and she had no doubt the soldiers would slaughter any man who raised weapons.

In a low voice, she warned, ‘Sían, don’t do anything foolish.’ She didn’t want to outwardly accuse him in front of his men, but she sensed his lies.

His thin smile transformed into a sneer. ‘I am doing what is best for all of us, Lianna.’ With a mocking smile, he added, ‘We wouldn’t want any predators threatening our people.’

She needed to speak with Alastair, in the hopes that someone could deter her brother. He might be able to reason with Sían, to make him see that violence would only beget more fighting. And if he threatened the Normans, it would undermine her own chance at freedom.

Her brother was already striding towards the others, and she called out, ‘Sían, wait!’

He only raised his dagger in a mock salute, while his kinsmen laughed and mounted their horses. A flock of crows flew over their heads, and a premonition passed over her. If they attack, they’re going to die.

She knew better than to think that she could stop them from whatever they planned, but perhaps her father could. Lianna hurried back to the house, not knowing what would happen.

But Sían had to be stopped.

* * *

Rhys de Laurent sat among his men by the fire, watching the golden flames flare amid the peat. Although the clan chief, Alastair MacKinnon, had offered them shelter at his home, he’d wanted to bide his time a little longer. He knew better than to think the Highlanders would welcome Norman soldiers among their clan. But now that he had decided to go through with the betrothal, they would travel to Eiloch in the morning.

He was glad to have these last few hours to clear his head. His mind was caught up with a thousand questions he could not answer. He had gone to meet with Lianna MacKinnon to see what sort of woman she was. He’d predicted that she would be soft-spoken and timid, obeying her father’s bidding. Instead, she had met his gaze with her own courage. There was something about her that intrigued him—and now that he’d had a taste of her, he wanted more.

Once, he’d thought about switching places with his brother, allowing Warrick to wed Lianna in his stead. Yet, now that he’d tasted her lips, he wouldn’t even consider it. He had kissed her to satisfy a curiosity, to see if there was a woman of fiery spirit to match her red hair. Instead, he had found that she was innocent, confused and scared. Her kiss had been sweetly unknowing, as if it were her first. But in time, she had warmed to his touch, and he now believed that she would make a good wife for him.

God in Heaven, it had aroused him beyond all imaginings. Her palms had rested upon his chest, and she had opened to him, offering him her own yearning. When she had straddled his leg, allowing him to stroke her mouth with his tongue, he’d nearly lost himself. He had become a different man, one caught up beneath her spell.

He would indeed accept this woman as his bride. And although he had once imagined leaving her behind in Scotland, now he was reconsidering. It might be best to take her back to England with him.

And more than all else, he was looking forward to claiming her as his own.

‘You look besotted,’ his friend Ailric remarked. ‘Was she fair of face?’

If fair of face meant hair like a sunset, and skin that resembled the petals of a rose, then yes.

‘She was,’ Rhys agreed. ‘In the morning, we will go to Eiloch and you can see her for yourself.’

Ailric poked at the fire until a shower of sparks scattered across the air. ‘I hope that your marriage will be as good as mine is, my friend.’ There was a fleeting glimpse of longing on his face. His friend had been wedded for only a year, but already his wife Elia was expecting their first child.

‘You shouldn’t have come with us,’ Rhys said. ‘Better to have stayed home with your wife. This journey to Scotland is too far. What if Elia gives birth while you are away?’

‘With another mouth to feed, I will do what I must. Better that I can earn silver from service to you, my lord. We will need more, soon enough.’ He leaned back against a log, a gleam of joy in his eyes. ‘I hope that one day you will know the happiness I’ve known. To see love in your wife’s eyes and know that hers is the first face you’ll see in the morning. To touch her belly and feel the faint kick of your son beneath her skin.’ He shook his head as if he could not believe his good fortune. ‘’Tis a wonder, indeed.’

‘You will see her soon,’ Rhys promised. ‘God willing, I hope to return to England within a fortnight. I must bring Lianna back to Montbrooke so that the betrothal document may be signed and witnessed.’

‘Was that not already done when she was born?’

‘It was, but our fathers demanded that both of us must give our consent to the marriage.’ Rhys shrugged. ‘It will not take long, and we will be wedded after that.’

He wondered if Lianna would be glad to marry him, once she learned the truth. It didn’t sit well with him to lie to her, but perhaps she would understand his reasons. He hadn’t wanted her to judge him on his Norman heritage before she had known him as a man. And he had found her more desirable than he’d imagined.

‘God grant that you both are happy,’ Ailric said. He stood in the darkness, and there came the sound of horses approaching.

They were not expecting visitors at this hour, and Rhys signalled for his men to be on alert. Instinctively, he reached for his sword. It might be Alastair and his kinsmen, or it might be a threat.

The hoofbeats ceased, and silence descended over their camp. Footsteps approached, and Rhys turned towards the sound, his hand upon his sword hilt.

Only seconds later, he heard a cry from his friend. Horror washed over him when he turned back and saw an arrow embedded in Ailric’s chest. His friend crumpled to the ground, and God help him, Rhys knew it was over.

He seized Ailric’s shield, releasing a battle roar of anguish. Then he charged into the darkness, his rage and grief swelling like a tide. He didn’t know who had dared to attack, but their assailants would pay the price with their lives.

A tightness filled up his chest as Rhys kept his shield up, barking commands at his men to raise their shields and form a circle. It was difficult to see more than shadows in the night sky, but he caught a blur of motion and used the moment to attack. Fury poured through him with the need for vengeance.

As he slashed out at a faceless enemy, his rage mingled with grief. No longer would Ailric see his wife’s smile in the morning, and his friend would never hold his newborn son.

Rhys’s sword cut through human flesh, and he heard a man cry out as he was struck down. He ended his enemy’s life, and his men held their positions, waiting for the Highland raiders to approach.

So, they had asked him to wed the chief’s daughter, only to attempt a slaughter in the middle of the night? They would soon learn the strength and power of his forces.

One stepped into the light, clearly one of the MacKinnons, given his clothing. Damn them for this. Rhys had deliberately stayed back from the clan, not wanting to bring fear and war among them. But now that they had attacked like cowards in the night, they would see no mercy.

In the Norman tongue, he ordered his men to keep their shields up and pursue the Highlanders. His heart hardened, his emotions turning to stone. He had no idea how many there were, but any man who dared to attack would feel the edge of his blade.

For Ailric.

Another raider emerged, but he was no match for six trained Norman warriors. One by one, they defended themselves against the remaining raiders—but there was still the unknown archer. None of these men had a bow among them.

Rhys sent out three men to scout the number of horses. ‘How many are left?’ he asked, when they returned.

‘There were four horses,’ one answered. ‘So at least one raider is still out there.’

The archer, Rhys guessed. And if his horse was still here, then so was the man. ‘Spread out,’ he ordered them, in the Norman language. ‘Keep your shields raised and find that archer.’ He would not rest until they had found them all. And if Alastair MacKinnon was responsible for ordering this raid, then Rhys would see every last member of the clan driven out of Eiloch.

His men obeyed the command, leaving Rhys by the fire. He deliberately remained behind, wanting the light to guide him. He kept his shield raised, listening for the sound of the last Highlander.

‘I know you’re there,’ he called out to the man, using the Gaelic language. ‘And I know you have to hide in the shadows. Because you know that you are no match for Norman fighters.’

He sensed a ripple of motion and lifted his shield, just as an arrow struck the wood. It came from the opposite direction, but Rhys held his position.

‘Arrogant Scot,’ he jeered. ‘Was this your chief’s idea? To kill us all, before I claim his daughter as my bride?’

One man did step into the light, and he held another arrow nocked to the bow. ‘You think I would let you claim what rightfully belongs to me? I should be the leader, not you.’

‘These are my lands by birthright,’ Rhys contradicted. ‘You hold no claim to them.’ He stared at the young man, noting the overconfidence in his bearing.

‘I’m going to kill you, Norman. And your head will be displayed at our gates.’ He released another arrow, but Rhys blocked it again.

‘Your aim is poor.’ He kept his shield up, circling the man. Footsteps approached, and one by one, his men returned to join him. ‘Was it your idea to kill us in our sleep?’

‘It was,’ the man taunted. ‘And you’re still going to die. Norman bastards.’

As are you, Rhys thought. Because of this man, one of his most trusted soldiers was dead. If he lunged forward, he might be able to strike the archer’s bow away, leaving him defenceless. But he would have to lower his shield.

‘You cannot kill me,’ the archer said with a sly smile. ‘Do you know who I am?’

With that, Rhys dropped his sword and unsheathed the knife at his waist. He threw the knife at the man’s heart and saw the look of shock in the Highlander’s eyes as the blade struck true. His enemy dropped to his knees, the bow falling from his hands.

‘I know exactly who you are,’ Rhys said softly. ‘The man who killed my friend.’

* * *

Lianna heard the outcry at dawn when the Norman soldiers arrived. She hurried outside and saw them leading horses...with the bodies of Highlanders draped across the saddles. Her throat closed up with terror, her hands shaking.

Last night, she had begged her father to send men after her brother, but Alastair had refused. He’d said that Sían would listen to no man’s counsel, save his own. If he dared to attack, then that lay upon his shoulders.

And though she knew Alastair was right, her father should have tried. For now, she dreaded the worst.

The blood drained from her face, and Lianna stepped back against the outer wall of the house, trying to hold back the wave of fear. She knew, without asking, that Sían was dead. He hadn’t been hunting deer or game at all. He’d been hunting the Norman soldiers. And from the looks of it, none had survived.

Alastair hobbled from his house, his complexion grey. The grief in his bearing made her fearful of what he would do now. Without thinking, Lianna rushed forward to his side.

‘Father,’ she whispered.

But he did not answer. Instead, he walked towards one of the bodies concealed by a wool covering. He lifted the edge and revealed Sían’s face.

There came an uproar from the Highlanders gathered around, and God help her, Lianna feared they would rise up in rebellion. But they did not need more bloodshed, not now.

Her father raised his voice. ‘I did not order this raid. It was never my intent to start a war.’

His words cast silence over the clan, and he continued. ‘Lianna, make the arrangements for the burial of these men. I will meet with my council and with the Normans.’

Her eyes flooded with hot tears, and her stomach clenched. The Normans could burn in hell for all she cared. She stared at the horses bearing the bodies, and nausea twisted her stomach. Her maid Orna approached and said, ‘I will help, Lianna.’ The older woman motioned to several of the others, and she took the reins of one of the horses.

Lianna wanted to follow, but her legs would not move. With a fleeting glance towards the Normans, she wondered which one was Rhys de Laurent. All wore conical helms and chainmail armour. They appeared fully prepared for battle.

There was only one consolation that distracted her now—her father could not possibly demand that she marry the Norman. Not when these men had killed Sían. With a leaden heart, she followed Orna and reached for the reins of a second horse.

‘Hear me,’ her father called out to the clan members, and Lianna turned back to listen to him. ‘I will not risk our clan’s survival based on the lack of judgement from my son. I did not order this attack, and Sían’s defiance resulted in tragedy. No one here will raise a hand against our Norman guests—or you will be exiled from us.’ His grey eyes were the colour of iron, cold and unforgiving. He met the gazes of his men, who looked ready to engage in fighting.

Lianna saw murder brewing in the eyes of Eachann and Ross. The fierce Highlanders were among the strongest fighters remaining. They needed a means of releasing their anger, and she stepped towards them. ‘Will you help dig the graves of your kinsmen?’

They didn’t move, until Alastair said, ‘Do as my daughter bids you.’

She stepped up, facing each of them. Tension stretched thin until finally Ross muttered, ‘We will bide our time.’ Then they stepped back to fetch shovels to begin digging the graves. Lianna chose two more men to help them, and then sent for the priest.

She was grateful for the many tasks that had to be done. It occupied her time, allowing her to push back the wave of emotion threatening to drown her. Sían had been her only brother, the laughing young man who had believed himself invincible. Tears pricked at her eyes, but she could not cry now. Several women were openly weeping at the loss of their sons and husbands. Lianna busied herself with helping them, asking them to gather linen for the burial shrouds.

But as the Normans departed with her father, she could only think that her freedom had been won at a terrible cost.

She led the horse bearing her brother’s body, taking him back towards the stone kirk. There, she would prepare him for burial, and perhaps indulge in a moment of grief.

But, without warning, the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. She froze in place, wondering what had disturbed her so suddenly.

She turned and saw that one of the Normans was staring at her, his expression intent. There was a hint of familiarity around him, though she could not place it. From this distance, she could barely see his face and his hair was hidden beneath his helm.

It must be Rhys de Laurent.

Lianna lifted her chin in defiance, staring boldly back at him. Let him look. For he would never have her as his bride.

* * *

Rhys followed the clan chief into a private gathering space, accompanied by his men. Two other Scots joined them, and there was no denying the cold fury that permeated the demeanour of every man here.

He said nothing but waited for Alastair to speak. His own anger was raging, that they had come here in peace to fulfil the bargain, and the man’s own son had dared to attack.

‘Sían acted of his own accord,’ Alastair said quietly. ‘I gave no orders for a raid.’

Rhys stared back at the man in disbelief. Did he honestly think that he would believe such a statement? His gaze was hard and unyielding, but there was melancholy in the man’s eyes.

‘I am old, and my time here grows short,’ Alastair said. ‘My son coveted my position as chief, and time and again, he was wanting me to step down and let him lead.’ He glanced at his companions. ‘But such was impossible. Sían was too impulsive, believing he was always right. He often acted without thinking, and more than once, I’ve had to atone for his reckless actions.’ He met Rhys’s gaze evenly. ‘As I am prepared to do now.’

‘You broke our bargain of peace,’ Rhys said coolly. ‘I have the right to drive every man, woman, and child from Eiloch. These are Norman lands now, inherited by my father from the chief before you. And now they belong to me, as his heir.’

‘They belong to both the Normans and the Scots,’ Alastair corrected. ‘Your grandfather saw that he would be needing protection for Eiloch one day. When he married your Norman grandmother, he made that bargain to guard us from outside threats.’

‘You forfeited our treaty when your son tried to kill us,’ Rhys said. ‘I will not marry your daughter now. But I will seize command of Eiloch.’

Alastair closed his eyes and fell silent for a long moment. Then, after a long pause, he continued, ‘I grieve the death of my son. Sían was my flesh and blood, and no father should outlive his child.’ His hand closed in a fist. ‘But Lianna is no’ like her brother. She has the heart and the intelligence to lead this clan. Had she been a boy, I would have made her the leader, for she is a good woman who puts the needs of others before her own.’

Alastair poured mead into a silver mazer cup and lifted it high. ‘I don’t want war between the Normans and my people. They will struggle to survive this winter, and we need Norman aid to provide enough food for them.’ He drank from the cup. ‘I offer you this cup of peace. I will forgive you for killing my son, if you do not bring vengeance against our people.’ He passed the cup to his advisors, who drank in turn, and then the cup was given to Rhys.

He hesitated, for he was uncertain whether to accept this offering. Sían MacKinnon might well have acted without his father’s permission. Given the haggard expression on Alastair’s face, he did appear to regret his son’s actions.

This was a man who valued peace, above his own personal tragedy. And that was something to be respected.

‘I will not drive your people out of Eiloch yet,’ Rhys said quietly. ‘For now, I will wait and use my own judgement. If they dare to raise a hand against any of us, they will die for it.’ He drank the mead and passed it back.

‘If any of my people strike back at you or your men,’ Alastair answered, ‘I will order their deaths myself.’ He set down the mazer cup and leaned back in his chair. ‘Lianna will not want to wed you—I must be honest about this. But she does understand the needs of our clan. She knows how dire our circumstances are, and if I command it of her, she will obey.’

Rhys wasn’t certain he wanted to wed under these circumstances. But he did need to be honest with Lianna MacKinnon and tell her of his true identity. She deserved that much.

‘I will speak with her this evening,’ he said. ‘In the meantime, I will inspect your crofters’ homes and learn more about Eiloch.’

Alastair nodded. ‘My men will accompany you to ensure your safety.’ He rose from his chair and said, ‘Under most circumstances, I would join you and Lianna on your journey back to Montbrooke for the formal betrothal. But I think it best if I remain behind, to ensure that my people do not rise up in rebellion.’

‘You assume that I will wed her,’ Rhys said. ‘I will not claim her if she displeases me.’ Unbidden came the memory of her mouth beneath his, the softness of her kiss. But once she learned who he was, she would despise him.

Alastair’s expression tightened with firm resolution. ‘She will do as I command.’

* * *

Lianna stared at her father in shock. ‘I will not.’

How could he even imagine she would wed the Norman who had murdered her brother? The very thought was monstrous. Her heart pounded, and she gripped her hands together so tightly, her knuckles turned white. ‘The men are digging Sían’s grave as we speak. How can you ask me to wed the man who put him there?’ She rose from her place, panic gnawing inside her.

‘Because if you do not make this alliance, he will drive our people out of Eiloch.’ Her father’s pallor was grey, and he sat down, resting his hand on his forehead. ‘Lianna, you don’t ken what lies ahead. Our people cannot survive if he drives us out.’

‘Then fight back,’ she insisted. ‘We have more men than he does!’

‘If we slaughter the heir of Montbrooke, his father will send Norman troops by the hundreds. They would kill every last one of us, and you ken this.’ He swallowed hard. ‘Sían made a terrible mistake, and I should have listened to you. I regret not sending men after him, but I never thought he would do something like this.’

‘And yet, you ask me to marry his murderer.’ Her voice broke away, and terror poured over her in a wave. ‘I cannot do it. I will not do it.’

‘He is coming to dine with us this evening after the burials. You will meet with him then,’ her father said.

‘I would rather die than wed Rhys de Laurent,’ she shot back. Her rage poured over her, and she stood from the table. Right now, she needed to be on horseback, to ride hard and release the storm of tears building inside. She started to back away from the table, but her father raised a hand, and two of her kinsmen blocked her path.

‘You will not leave, Lianna,’ he said. ‘It is not safe now. With all that has happened, you must stay here.’

And be his prisoner, she realised. A blinding anger overcame her, and she tried to shove her way past the men. But Eachann gripped her arm, staring back at her father for his orders.

‘Go to your bedchamber,’ Alastair warned. ‘You may bide there until we bury Sían and the others. And you will meet with Rhys de Laurent later tonight.’ Though he spoke calmly, she didn’t miss the tremor of emotion in his voice. It seemed that he was holding back his own grief by a single thread.

‘I will not meet with him.’ Not now or ever. If he meant for her to stay in her room, stay she would. He could not force her to wed the Norman.

‘Take her,’ Alastair said.

Eachann was not gentle, but pulled her towards the stairs and marched her up each tread. When she reached her room, he opened the door and shoved her inside. She had no time to speak, but heard the tell-tale click of the key turning in the lock.

Lianna drew her knuckles into a fist and slammed her hand into the door, not even caring if it bruised. Her life was falling to pieces all around her, and she could not gather control of it. Anger roared through her, and she dropped to her knees on the floor. There was a stiff brush and a bucket of water in the corner, and she reached for them. She scrubbed the floor over and over, obliterating all traces of dirt. Her shoulders shook with rage and grief, and she wept for the loss of her brother...but most of all, for the loss of her freedom. She scrubbed until her fingers were raw from the effort, and her knees were damp from the water.

Then, a sudden thought took root in her mind. What of the coins she had saved to buy her freedom? Would the Norman consider the bribe? It was still a fragile glimmer of hope that she clung to.

She ran to the opposite side of the room and dropped to her knees again. With the blade of her dagger, she pried up the floorboard and reached for the sack of coins she had saved over the years.

It was gone. With horror, she reached her hand into the darkness, trying to see if it had somehow been pushed aside. But there was nothing at all, save something tiny, a scrap of fabric she could not see. When she pulled it from the hiding place, the tears sprang up again. It was a handkerchief she had embroidered for Sían.

He had taken her coins and used them for God only knew what. When had he done this? She had told him only a day ago, but it was clear that he had seized the coins long before that.

Where were they now? She recalled that he had gone ‘hunting’ with his men, but that was during the afternoon. They had not attacked the Norman camp until nightfall. Where had he been all that time?

She knew he had not kept the coins with him during the attack, for she had spent the past hour preparing his body for burial. A queasy feeling passed over her, and she sat against the wall, drawing her knees up. There was truly nothing left for her now. No silver, no means of convincing the Norman to leave her alone.

Her father wanted her to meet with the man this evening, but she could not fathom doing so. Her heart was ravaged with grief and frustration. If she laid eyes upon his face, it would only bring back her anger.

She lowered her face against her knees. Nothing would ever force her to wed the Norman—not after what he’d done.

She swore, with every breath in her body, that she would not let her enemy claim her.