Page 69

Davina’s gaze swept over them, her voice emerging with iron beneath the quake as she gave them Ian’s orders. “Prepare the tray. And keep your courage. For my child’s sake, we must endure this.”

She paused, her gaze sweeping the faces of the staff, pale and tear-streaked yet holding tight to slivers of resolve. “I don’t want anyone else near him to give him any more leverage than what he already has.”

The servants nodded, hands trembling as they turned to their tasks. Despite fear knotting their bellies, they moved with grim determination, their motions swift and precise.

Crossing the room, Davina knelt beside Myrna and Lilias, who huddled close together. Her mother’s shoulders still shook, though her sobs had quieted to fragile breaths. Myrna’s eyes, red-rimmed and brimming with worry, met Davina’s with unspoken dread.

Leaning in, Davina kept her voice low and urgent. “I can’t act while he’s holding Cailin,” she said, swallowing the knot rising in her throat. “But he can’t force himself on me and hold the bairn at the same time.”

Lilias’s eyes flew wide, fresh tears spilling down her weathered cheeks. “Davina, nay—”

Davina pressed a finger gently to her mother’s lips, silencing her. “He’ll have to put her down eventually,” she continued, keeping her tone iron clad. “When he does, I’ll coax him into leaving her in the nursery—or into one of your arms. The moment she’s free, get her out.”

“Out of the castle?” Myrna whispered, her voice trembling.

“Aye.” Davina’s eyes hardened with resolve. “Take the back passage. Get her quiet and away as fast as you can. Take the entire household with you. Bring the guards. I want you all gone.”

Myrna shook her head, lips quivering. “But…what about you, lass? Cailin needs her mither. You can’t—”

“I’ll manage Ian,” Davina cut in steadier than she felt inside.

Lilias clutched her arm, panic written across every line of her face. “Manage him how? Davina, you can’t mean to sacrifice yourself! He’ll kill you when he finds the house empty!”

Davina pulled her arm free, her jaw tightening. “I’m not dying tonight. I have a plan.”

“What?” Lilias demanded, her voice rising with frantic desperation.

Davina grabbed her mother’s shoulders, her gaze cold and unyielding as forged iron. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to.”

Lilias’s mouth opened as if to protest, but the words died on her tongue. She pressed a trembling hand to her lips, her wide eyes brimming with fresh tears.

Myrna’s anxious gaze flicked to the staff, who worked feverishly to prepare the tray. She leaned closer to Davina, her voice a rasping whisper. “You don’t have to do this alone, child.”

Davina was about to protest but Broderick’s remembered words changed her mind.

“Stay close, Myrna. Hover outside the bedchamber and listen close. Be ready for when I talk Ian into letting the baby go. I want you to get Cailin out. That’s all I care about.

By any means necessary. Do you understand me? ”

Myrna gave a tight, solemn nod, her lips pressed into a grim line of determination.

The finished tray lay on the prep table—dried meats, fruit, bread, and a small dish of butter with a small wooden paddle. Beatrice set the wine and chunks of cheese to join them.

Davina lifted the tray, settled the weight into her palms, and gave her mother and Myrna one last look and nod.

Myrna swallowed hard and dipped her head in response, her face pale but resolute. Lilias clung to Myrna’s arm, her tears falling freely, her expression crumpled with helpless dread.

Davina stepped away from them, balancing the tray as she backed through the serving room, then into the Great Hall where she crossed toward the foyer. Her heartbeat thundered in her chest, but her stride did not falter.

When she reached the first-floor landing, the door to the lord’s bedchamber loomed ahead, a gaping maw waiting to devour her.

With the tray rattling in her trembling hands, Davina inhaled a slow breath to steady herself.

Beyond the door, Cailin’s cries pierced the heavy wooden barrier, each wail a fist clenching her pounding heart.

Squaring her shoulders, Davina pushed the door open with care, masking her terror beneath a veneer of control. Ian sat at the table by the hearth, bouncing Cailin on his knee, his grin curling like a serpent’s coil.

“Ah, there she is,” he drawled, his voice thick with false pleasantries.

Davina’s jaw tightened as she advanced into the room, the muscles in her face twitching with the effort to remain composed.

Her gaze flicked to Cailin, cheeks blotched red with tears, her tiny arms reaching desperately for her mother as Davina set the tray down. Ian held fast to the infant, bouncing her in a grotesque parody of affection.

Cailin’s cries swelled, frantic and hoarse. Ian sighed with exaggerated patience, patting her back as if scolding a restless pup. “Oh, come now, wee Cailin. We were just beginning to get along.”

Davina’s fists clenched at her sides, her nails biting into her palms as she swallowed the scream rising in her throat and steadied her anger before she trusted herself to speak. Clearing her throat, she asked, “Would you like butter on your bread?”

Ian smirked, reclining in his chair as though he were lord of the realm. “Aye, I’d like that very much. Thank you.”

Her hands betrayed her, trembling as she spread the butter across the bread. Ian’s gaze glinted with predatory amusement.

“You’re shaking,” he noted with a sneer. “You must be overjoyed to have me home.”

Davina remained silent, extending the bread toward him. He accepted it, tearing a bite free with his teeth, chewing slowly as though savoring not the food, but her torment.

“Feed me some fruit, wife,” he commanded, lifting his chin imperiously.

Suppressing her revulsion, Davina set the bread aside and picked up a piece of dried apple, then held it to his lips. He took it with infuriating leisure, never once breaking eye contact.

“Tammus told me you married someone else,” Ian said around his food.

Her throat tightened like a noose drawing taut.

She forced her gaze to the tray, taking a piece of cheese with shaking hands that betrayed the storm raging within her.

“Tammus insisted I remarry,” she answered, hating the way her voice quivered.

“I had no say in the matter.” She offered him the bite-size piece of cheese.

Ian’s grin stretched wider, a predator savoring the moment before the kill. “And did you consummate the marriage?”

The question struck her like a lash across the spine, but she did not flinch. Her hand quivered, though, the cheese suspended before his mouth. He bit it from her fingers, chewing slowly, eyes never leaving hers.

Davina cleared her throat. “Would you like me to fetch Myrna to take the baby? It’s just the two of us now. There’s no need to involve Cailin.”

Ian’s expression darkened like storm clouds swallowing the sun. “Nay.”

“Please,” she pressed, gentle but urgent, her gaze flicking to her daughter, still squirming miserably in Ian’s grip. “She’s just a babe. She shouldn’t have to hear this.”

The hilt of Ian’s dagger crashed down upon the table, making Davina jolt. Cailin shrieked, her tiny wail piercing Davina’s ears.

“Did you fuck him!” Ian roared, spittle flying from his lips.

Davina’s heart pounded in her chest. Her mind raced. Lie or truth? Which would enrage him less? She forced herself to answer. “I had to, Ian,” she confessed through gritted teeth. “Tammus wouldn’t leave until the deed was done.”

The moment the admission passed her lips, she knew her mistake.

Ian’s eyes narrowed to slits, his grip on Cailin tightening until she squealed. “And just how did Tammus know?” he snarled. “Did he watch you fuck your new husband?”

“Of course not,” Davina snapped before she could stop herself, her temper slipping free of its leash.

“Then how the hell did he know!” Ian bellowed, rage crackling off him in waves .

A knock at the still-open door fractured the moment. Myrna stepped in, dipping a quick curtsy, her voice trembling but clear. “Beggin’ yer pardon, milord. Shall I take the wee one so you can have some privacy?”

Cailin twisted in Ian’s arms, arching away from him, desperate to escape. Davina seized the moment, surging forward to gather her daughter to her chest before she fell to the floor. Relief and tears blurred her vision as she cradled Cailin close, murmuring a silent, fervent prayer of thanks.

“Aye, take the brat out of my sight,” Ian sneered, waving her off with a bored flick of his hand. But as soon as Davina turned, Ian grabbed her arm tight, and she winced as his fingers dug into her flesh. “ You stay here. Myrna, come here and get the fucking baby.”

Myrna scurried into the room, eyes wide, and took Cailin with desperate care. Davina’s gaze locked with Myrna’s, fierce and burning with her silent command. Get her out. Get her safe.

Myrna’s chin dipped in a small, tight nod. She clutched Cailin to her chest and turned from the room, her pace brisk.

“And close the fucking door!” he shouted.

Davina watched them disappear, her heart hammering, hope and fear battling in her chest.

Ian released her and slouched back into the chair.

She exhaled, relief washing over her like a fleeting tide.

Cailin was safe. For now. Her gaze flicked to Ian, and she cautiously turned toward the nursery door, taking a few tentative steps.

When he didn’t stop her, she proceeded and turned the key in the lock.

“What are you doing?”

She turned on her heel and faced him. “After they settle Cailin, they’ll likely place her in the nursery,” Davina answered evenly, her voice steadier than she felt. “For privacy, milord. ”

His brow arched at her address. “Milord, is it?” His grin spread, all teeth and malice, but that faded quickly. “Did your new husband teach you that? Does he prefer a submissive wife? Did you fight him as fiercely as you fought me?”