Page 42

“ U m, Colin?”

He glanced down at her. “What do you need?”

Ellie chewed her lip, unsure how to ask, as a blush stole over her cheeks. Claire and Gwen were still dancing up a storm, having the time of their lives…but she really needed to use a bathroom.

Did they have Porta-Potties in medieval times? Ellie guessed she was about to find out.

“I have to, um, use the facilities. The washroom.”

Understanding dawned on his face, and he gave a swift nod. “There are a couple of public garderobes, but it’ll be more sanitary behind a tree.”

Mortification swamped her. “Oh, um, okay. Never mind, I’ll be fine.”

He rolled his eyes. “It’s the Middle Ages, El. Modesty is not really a thing. When you take your baths, doesn’t your chambermaid undress you and help you into the tub?”

“Well, yes, but—”

He took her elbow and turned her away from the festivities. “Come on. It’s not a big deal.”

Ellie took a few deep breaths to calm herself .

She could handle many, many things in life.

She handled the people who entered her bookshop and thought she couldn’t possibly know the difference between Machiavelli and Michelangelo.

She could handle her aunt’s constant mother-henning.

She could even handle the Tube in all its glory at rush hour in high tourist season.

But Colin leading her to some secluded spot to relieve herself? Handling that reality seemed beyond her ability.

She lingered behind the tree for a few minutes longer than strictly necessary. When she felt she’d dawdled long enough—and thought that she could paste on a smile and adopt Colin’s fake-it-til-you-make-it mentality, she stepped out from behind the trees, then stopped suddenly.

She didn’t see Colin. “Colin?” she tried.

“Lady Claire?” A rather rough-looking member of the garrison stood before her, his sword strapped to his back and knives tucked all over the straps of his boots.

Ellie jumped.

The man rushed her and grabbed her upper arm.

“Ow!” she gasped, but he yanked her towards him. As she catapulted into his chest, he slapped his other hand against her mouth. She immediately bit down, but he didn’t seem fazed; in fact, he swiftly knocked something hard against her head, and everything went dark.

Colin paced Nioclas’s solar, his shoulders tense and his face pinched.

Ellie had been missing for hours.

Nioclas had seen Colin head toward the trees with Ellie, and took the opportunity to send one of his personal guardsmen to replace Colin as she took care of her business. He needed to discuss the news he’d received of a possible battle between neighboring clans with Colin, Reilly, and James.

When they’d found the guard slain, Colin felt a fear unlike any other creep into his soul.

Claire’s eyes were red from crying. “Why would someone take Ellie?”

“We’ve searched the faire grounds, the village, all the houses, the castle, the baileys, and the surrounding forest,” Reilly said briskly, checking things from a list on parchment. “Can anyone think of any other places to search?”

The solar door flew open, and a maid burst in, her skirts flying. She looked around wildly, and when her eyes landed on Claire, she sank against the wall in relief.

“Ryanne, what are you about?” Nioclas demanded.

“Oh, my lady!” she gasped, out of breath, and completely ignoring Nick. Her hand on her heaving chest, she gulped in large breaths of air. “Oh, praise the saints ’tisn’t true!”

Claire frowned. “What troubles you, Ryanne?”

The maid waved a piece of parchment toward her and straightened, though she still breathed hard. “Why, ’tis the note I found in your chamber. I thought for certain the O’Connells had ye!”

Claire’s frown deepened. “You know my sire would never allow such a thing to happen.” She took the note. “Thank you for the speed of your delivery, however false the news is.”

The maid smiled, relieved, and bobbed a quick curtsey before hastening the way she’d come.

“How strange,” Claire murmured, her eyes skimming the parchment. “This is the O’Connell seal, but…”

Nioclas silently held out his hand and Claire placed the parchment in it. His eyes scanned the words before he handed it to Colin.

Your daughter is safe, but you may now refer to her as Lady O’Connell. We require no dowry, but offer you instead our swords. Waging war on us is akin to waging war on your daughter .

The note was signed with a wax seal.

“Clearly, whatever plan they had didn’t work out,” Brianagh mused, reaching for Claire, and pulling her closer. “Praise the saints.”

“O’Malley,” Colin suddenly barked. He strode to him and shoved the parchment into his hand. “O’Connell has her. He took her, thinking she was Claire—and that’s why you were sent here. If Ellie hadn’t been here, they would’ve taken Claire!”

Claire’s face blanched. “The O’Connells are brutal. Their women are…they’re…”

“They’re what?” Colin demanded.

“The men take what they want from their clanswomen,” Brianagh answered, her voice catching. “They’re some of the worst. They certainly live up to the barbaric reputation England believes we have.”

“To attempt a kidnapping, right under Nick’s nose, is foolish at best and deadly at worst,” James spat.

Nick pulled open the door and spoke to Kane, the captain of his own guard, before storming back in, Kane on his heels.

“The battle between the O’Rourkes and the O’Connells seems to be more than just rumor,” Kane informed them tersely.

Reilly and Colin shared a look, then, as one, headed for the door.

“You’ll need a garrison to take her back,” Nioclas declared, stopping the men in their tracks.

“Will yours be behind us?” Colin demanded.

Nioclas’s eyes turned thoughtful. “If I tell them to be, aye. But what reason do I have to give them, to put their lives at risk? The lady is of no relation to any of us. She holds no importance to this clan, does she?”

Gwen gasped. “So you’d leave her with—with—”

A foul word escaped Colin’s mouth, and he looked at Nioclas, his eyes full of anguish. “Don’t force me, Nick. ”

Nioclas watched him steadily. “You know as well as I do, O’Rourke. We don’t fight for those that aren’t ours.”

A moment passed in silence, then Colin’s voice broke as he uttered, “She’s mine, Nick. Only mine.”

Nioclas gave Brianagh a swift, brutal kiss, then charged out with Colin, James, and Reilly.

Ellie sat in front of a weak fire, her body shaking from the cold that seeped into her bones.

She had no idea where she was. Or when.

Ellie glanced at the man who sat before her and repressed a shiver of fear. The man himself had a hardness in his eyes. He hadn’t yet spoken to her, and it was beyond unnerving.

He was dressed the same as Colin had been—tunic, léine, leggings, and weaponry. Lots of weaponry.

He said something to her, and she jumped as if struck. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

The man barked out an order, and the other men in the room filed out quickly until it was just the two of them, and the imposing men standing at the entrance.

To keep the others out? Or to keep her in?

She had a sick feeling that she knew the answer to that one.

“I speak some peasant’s English,” the man said haltingly, but confidently. “I am Dylan O’Connell. Ye are Claire MacWilliam, and ye will save us.”

Ellie blinked. “No, I’m not Claire—”

He shook his head and held up his hand. “Ye wear the laird’s colors, and possess the manners of a laird’s daughter. Ye were guarded thusly.”

Ellie let out a frustrated sigh. “I am a guest there. Claire’s with her mother and father right now.”

He slammed the table with his fist. “Your untruths will not serve ye here!” He regained his composure and continued, as though he hadn’t just behaved like a Neanderthal, “I believe ye will make a good wife. I will be a good husband, and ye will be treated with care, unless you choose to be…troublesome.”

Ellie froze, her mouth hanging open. Wife?

“Once we are married, ye will be brought to my chamber, and we will consummate our marriage. Then, with that proof, the battles will cease, and our clans will be united. Do not fear, my lady. I shall ensure your comforts if ye lay willingly.”

“What if I don’t lay willingly?” she whispered.

He shrugged. “Eventually, ye will. And if not, there are many wenches around the castle to attend me once you are swollen with my heir. But for the heir to be…” He struggled to find the right word.

“If it is to be legitimate, we must be married immediately. Kevan, one of your new clansmen, has gone to fetch the priest. Ye may continue to pretend not to understand your native tongue—”

“You are the one who isn’t understanding!” Ellie exclaimed, fear intensifying her desperation. “I’m not Claire MacWilliam!”

Dylan stood as well, his height dwarfing her. His tone became harsh. “’Tis done. Ye can go to the altar willingly or not; my priest does not care much what the bride wants. He only wants what’s best for my people.” He drew a breath. “Our people.”

“This is ridiculous,” Ellie sputtered. She stepped away from him. “I’m not marrying you—”

She froze at the sound of blades being drawn from their scabbards. Slowly, she glanced to the doorway. Two guardsmen stood tall, their long, sharp swords crossed in an X.

They didn’t look amused.

Dylan said something to them, and they both nodded once, but didn’t remove their barrier.

To her, he said, “We will make amends to your sire later. But this protects your mother’s clan as well as it does ours.

The priest should arrive soon, and though your wedding day may not be as grand as ye might have hoped, I will not hurt ye if ye remain obedient. ”

Ellie swallowed her reply as Dylan left. The guardsmen allowed him to pass, but immediately took up their stance once more as the door slammed closed.

She sank down in the chair again and wrapped her hands around her queasy stomach.