Nobody said anything and Abi glanced around to see that everyone was watching her expectantly.
She sighed. “I’ll come take a look.”
With Thomas and Clyde in tow, she followed Angus over to the kitchen where a large fireplace dominated one wall. It was big enough to stand up in—which Abi did—craning her head back to examine the inside of the chimney. There was no square of light at the top, which meant it was indeed blocked. Somebody would have to climb up and unblock it. If this kind of thing happened at the hotel, she’d call in a specialist company who had all the right safety equipment. But here? The chimney was very high.
She ducked out of the fireplace and patted the wall. “What’s behind here?”
“Naught,” the cook replied. “Just the outer wall of the kitchen.”
She exited the kitchen into the courtyard and followed the outer wall, tilting her head back to peer up at the chimney. She took a few steps and then yelped as she walked into something hard.
“Busy?”
The thing she’d walked into was Domnall Maguire. He grinned at her through his greasy beard, and Abi’s stomach tightened with apprehension.
“Yes, actually,” she snapped. “So I’d thank you to get out of my way.”
He stepped into her path. “I dinna think so.”
The space behind the kitchen was small and shadowed. The guards on the wall wouldn’t be able to see her.
“Let me pass, Domnall,” she said, pleased when her voice didn’t shake. “Or I’ll—”
“Ye will what? Scream?” He stepped closer and Abi was forced to step back to keep the distance between them. She didn’t like the look in Domnall’s eyes. They were a little wild. She remembered how he’d grabbed that woman at the village and then been punished by Reid. Domnall didn’t strike her as the kind of man who would take kindly to that.
He suddenly lunged, grabbed her shoulders, and pushed her against the wall. One hand went over her mouth whilst the other grabbed her wrists and yanked her hands savagely over her head. Abi thrashed and fought, tried to scream, tried to kick him, tried to yank her wrists from his grip, all to no avail.
Her defiance only seemed to excite him. That feral gleam in his eyes deepened, and she could see the hard bulge between his legs.
Cold fear swept through her. She rolled her eyes, searching for someone, anyone, that might come to her aid, but they were hidden by the shadow of the kitchen wall.
Domnall pressed himself against her. His breath was fetid as he whispered in her ear. “Reid thinks ye are his, does he? We’ll see about that. I take what I want, even the lord’s whore.”
Abi screamed against his hand, thrashed against his grip, terror racing through her veins like icy water.No,she thought.Please.
Then something crashed into the back of Domnall’s head and he turned, his grip slackening a little.
“Ye!” Domnall snarled.
He released her and spun to where Clyde and Thomas were standing behind, fists clenched like a pair of boxers.
“Let her go!” Clyde cried.
But Domnall only laughed. “Ye think ye are a match for me?” He lashed out with lightning speed. His fist impacted with Clyde’s chin with a sickening crunch and the lad went crashing to the floor. Domnall’s leg flashed out, connected with Thomas’s stomach, and sent him doubling over in pain. Domnall then kicked him in the side of the face and sent him sprawling. He lay on the flagstones, groaning in pain.
Abi ran for it. But she’d not gone two paces before Domnall grabbed her, swung her around, and pinned her against the wall again.
“Now look what ye made me do. Ye had better be worth it after all this effort.” He began unbuckling the belt of his breeches.
Then suddenly Whitefoot was there. With a snarl, the hound leapt, closed his teeth around Domnall’s arm and went slamming into him, the huge hound’s weight enough to send them both crashing to the ground. Bo shot in front of Abi, putting herself between Abi and her attacker.
“Get off!” Domnall screamed. “Agh!”
But Whitefoot didn’t let go. There was blood dripping down Domnall’s arm where Whitefoot had a hold of it, and the hound had gotten his paws against Domnall’s chest, pinning him down.
With his free hand, Domnall reached down and drew his dagger. Almost in slow motion, Abi watched as he slashed at Whitefoot with the blade. The dog yelped, released his grip. Domnall jumped to his feet, clutching his bloody arm to his chest. He looked around wildly for a second, then ran off.
Whitefoot staggered a few paces then flopped to the ground. With a strangled cry, Abi threw herself onto her knees at the dog’s side. Bo whined, nosing at Whitefoot’s flank. There were gashes all over him, oozing blood that dripped slowly onto the flagstones. But it was the wound in his chest that sent terror clawing up Abi’s chest. It looked deep and Abi had no way to know if it had hit any vital organs.
