“A cut? Where’d you get a knife?”
Amy frowned at him. “I didn’t have a knife.” She looked at Georgina. “Did I say I had a knife?”
Georgina shook her head.
Amy looked back at Eachann MacLachlan. “I didn’t say I had a knife. I think you’re trying to confuse me.”
Eachann spoke through gritted teeth. “You said he was bleeding from a cut.”
“Oh... that was from the whisky glass.”
“My brother cut his hand on a whisky glass?”
“No. His head.”
Eachann was the one who looked confused. “He cut his head on a whisky glass?”
“Just a small glass. It only made a little cut about, say...” Amy held up her fingers to show how much and looked at Georgina. “How big would you say that is?”
“About a half of an inch,” Georgina answered, then added, “hardly deadly.”
“That’s true.” She looked at him and repeated, “Hardly deadly. He’ll be fine.” Amy paused, her expression thoughtful. “The knot on his forehead was a little bigger though. But don’t worry, he was coming to as I was tying him up. I’m certain his mind wasn’t befuddled or anything because he looked like he wanted to clean up all the broken glass.”
The oaf groaned and shook his head.
“Sit down, please.” Amy pointed the pistol at him and waved it around.
He held one hand up. “For crissake! Stop waving that gun around! It could go off!”
She waved it some more. “Well, if you don’t want me to wave the gun,” she said reasonably, “then you need to sit down.”
He moved toward the closest chair so quickly Georgina almost laughed. He was scowling the whole time.
The chair was a huge monstrosity filled with crumpled pieces of paper, wadded up shirts, some crusty dishes, and a huge pile of walnut shells. He bent slightly and with one huge arm, swiped everything off onto the floor.
He turned, eyeing them from a face that was not the least pleased. He sat down rather slowly, wincing at one point. He gave Georgina a look of retribution that could have cooked her.
“What’s wrong with him?” Amy whispered, keeping the pistol pointed at him.
“Nothing,” Georgina said brightly as she unrolled the braided cord. “He’s just been thinking too hard.”
He swore under his breath.
Georgina didn’t smile, but shifted so she stood beside him and wouldn’t block the aim of Amy’s gun, for safety’s sake. She could see from the sharp way he watched them that he was waiting for one of them to make a mistake. “Stick out your hands.”
He turned his head slowly and looked up at her. His look promised dire revenge.
But she ignored him and twisted the tie around his wrists. “Now your big feet, please.”
He didn’t move.
She squatted down and pulled the drapery tie downward with a firm jerk that made him inhale sharply, then looped it around his ankles a few times. Kneeling at his beat-up boots, she gave him another sugary smile, then tied the knots even tighter.
“You’ll regret that, George,” he murmured through gritted teeth.
“Oh, I think not.” She reached out and patted his cheek, then reached across him on purpose and grabbed another apple. She leaned back on her heels and held the apple up between their faces.
His eyes narrowed and he opened his mouth to speak.
