“Do not.” Her words were nothing short of a plea. The thought of Lachlann taking more punishment because of her…their tender moments of lovemaking raced through her mind.
“And ye’ve feelings for the man? Then convince him ye wish to stay with me, convince him he needs to leave without the silver, and I will not kill him. Mayhap I can overlook yer unfaithfulness.”
She nodded frantically, and when she pushed away the lump in her hand, it jingled. They both looked at it. The leather purse that should be hidden. Finn was the only one who knew it was there. He was the only one who could have placed it here.
“What is this?” Olaf grabbed the sack and leaned on his elbows to pour the contents onto her bared chest. “Silver?” His eyes were wide, his surprise unchecked. “And how did ye know this is where I’d bed ye first?”
“First?”
His anger dissipating, Olaf smiled. A tolerant smile. A smile that said she had much to learn. “Ah, Ethne, there will be many beddings. Ye fill my dreams. Even when I’ve a willing wench to poke with my prick, ’tis yer face I see.” He kissed her hard. “Ye may never be able to walk again.”
Rest now, sweet Ethne. We’ve plans to make come morning.
Lachlann’s gentle words echoed in her mind.
Her throat clogged with unshed tears over what might have been. Her trepidation blossomed into full-blown terror. Again, she had put Lachlann at risk. If she could get away from Olaf, mayhap she could save Lachlann. If she could not escape, Olaf would be relentless, forcing himself on her when she had no desire for him, and she would end up being ripped apart just like Moira.
Chapter 23
Per Olaf the Islander’s orders, Lachlann, Niall, and Aldred were shoved out of the cave. When Lachlann tried to look over his shoulder for Ethne, one of the ugliest men he’d ever laid eyes on thrust him head first to the hard ground.
The whoreson laughed. “I think ye can give up that idea.”
Lachlann heard again everything Ethne had said. She was putting on a brave front, but…He ran her answer about the silver over in his head. And again. She’d hesitated. Was he wrong? No! He was certain she’d paused, and that look of regret.
“Get some rope,” a fat little man said, while he swished the jug of mead he’d found outside the cave. A third man pushed Niall and Aldred to their knees beside him.
When Ethne saw Olaf, her body had tensed. Lachlann was certain she’d also tensed when that man touched her. Damn! Was he right or was he just imagining it? Certainly, she’d been holding her breath.
There was no clear indication of what Niall wanted done and Lachlann didn’t care! He couldn’t wait. His focus remained on Ethne, whom he’d just left in the cruel hands of Olaf the Islander. Hands Lachlann had to believe she did not want on her.
He felt nothing as his arms were yanked back and tied by strong hands. Even his side seemed numb. His mind, instead, raced to the interior of the cave and what might be happening.
Olaf’s little band quickly stepped away to share the mead.
If Lachlann was right, then Ethne had been afraid despite her act. He had to be right. But mayhap, he saw only what he wanted to see. The man’s familiarity with her could not be denied, even his inference that they’d been together before, but Lachlann knew she had been with no other. Panic was setting in. He needed to halt these racing thoughts.
“So, are we to assume ye know that Ethne has the silver?"
Niall’s voice felt like a sharp slap of awareness and it annoyed Lachlann deeply.
“What?” He spat out the question.
His angry retort was too loud and now, they had eyes on them. Niall waited until the closest islander turned away before saying it again, his voice barely audible and his lips not even moving.
With a tight expression, Lachlann gave a quick nod. The silver was the least of his problems right now. He worked on the knots at his wrist, his fingernails ripping to the quick. If he could have yanked free, he would have because he could do nothing to help her from here.
"Glad we figured that out."
“She didna seem surprised to see them,” Aldred whispered as he settled on the ground, facing the men who’d left them here.
Niall nodded. “It sounded like they had a plan, the two of them. If we can get back inside bef—”
“No talking!” The same islander who had tied them up barked the order, then accepted one of the horns of mead being distributed among the others. Only a few men had remained inside, so their numbers were less than they would have been, mayhap five large warriors.
The three of them had fought more men than this. And won.
After waiting a few minutes more for the men to lose interest in them again, Niall asked, “Did ye see the medal on the man’s chest? He’s from the islands. A jarl of some sort.”
