The old man shrugged. “Whores have no reason to hide themselves.”
“Whore? What sort of chieftain treats the lasses in his care this way?”
“She’s yers now. Ours onlyifwe take her back.” Aidan's anger had cooled or mayhap it just simmered below the surface. For the first time, he turned his gaze to Ethne. “Although we may not want her now that ye’ve soiled her.”
Her pained expression sent Lachlann over the edge. If only they weren’t outnumbered. Regret tightened his gut. He wished he’d gone the way Niall had said so there would at least be some hope of reinforcements against this angry mob that seemed bent on ripping what was left of her pride asunder.
“She doesn't need to go back,” Lachlann said. “I am taking her to wife. She will be going with me.”
The tiniest smile on Aidan’s face sparked Lachlann’s need to survive. He feared the worst.
“And where is it ye think ye are going, Lachlann?” Aidan asked. “Or should I call yemurderer?”
“I murdered no one.” Lachlann let loose his irritation, ignoring a growing sense of doom. “’Twas an accident. No more.”
“And that may be what we decide, butweare the ones to decide.”
He scoffed. “Yer belittling her does not make it true. Just as calling me a murderer does not make it so.”
“It does to us,” Thomas piped up, his gaze traveling Ethne’s body, waiting anxiously to see her bared for all.
Lachlann had wondered about this man’s interest in her, and he appeared to have not been far from the mark. Mayhap they’d all been hoping to take her at some point.
“Allow her to withdraw so that she may cover herself.” Lachlann would have gutted the man if the others didn’t look so eager to take his place.
Thomas merely laughed, a cruel sound. “She can try.”
Ethne took it upon herself to do just that, playing swerve and catch with the much larger, and surprisingly faster man. It was a risky game, and Lachlann wished she’d given him a moment more to reason with them before consenting to it.
Thomas yanked theplaideaway just as she escaped into the bushes. And Lachlann had taken the two steps closer so that he was right there to punch him solidly in the face. The telltale sound of bones crushing was satisfying.
Thomas merely wiped at the blood from his nose and turned to the others. “A ripe piece indeed.”
And that was all it took for Lachlann to give free rein to his anger with a punch to the man’s stomach. A punch so hard that Thomas doubled over. A stupid move, but Lachlann was no longer thinking clearly. It didn’t matter that he was outnumbered.
When Lachlann would have followed up with a downward pummel to Thomas’s back, Malcolm grabbed his arm and jerked him away. He ripped the blade from Lachlann’s grip. “Ye should have used this when ye had the chance.”
Another man yanked Lachlann’s arms tight behind him, holding him in place, but he ignored the man and instead, turned his fiercest scowl on Malcolm.
“Ye were her protector!” Lachlann shouted. “And yer friends speak of yer sister like that?”
Malcolm's face reddened right before he punched Lachlann in the stomach with a fist that felt like solid wood. He lifted his head only to be backhanded by the man, splitting his lip. With no consideration for his helplessness, Malcolm repeated the action to his jaw and then his side until Lachlann dropped to his knees. The man holding him finally released him to fall the rest of the way to the ground with a loud moan.
“I am a good brother,” Malcolm said from where he stood over him, his breath heaving. “I’ll beat the shite out of anyone who deflowers my little sister.”
Bile rose in Lachlann’s throat, and he rolled over, struggling to get up. His entire body burned; the pain was intense. His mouth full of his own blood, he lifted his head only enough to spit it onto the ground where it mingled with the blood from his many wounds.
Lachlann must have passed out because the next thing he became aware of was an excruciating kick to his side, followed by near drowning when water was poured over his head.
“Get up, ye miserable cur,” Malcolm said. His steady breathing indicated Lachlann must have been out for a while.
The sight of Ethne fully clothed, her face awash with tears, but restrained by Thomas, sparked Lachlann’s defenses. When he tried to stand, the quick movements sent sharp pain to his head, and he crashed to the ground a second time.
“Again.”
Aidan's words made no sense until Lachlann was doused with water. He struggled to get up on all fours, unable to catch his breath, as if he were indeed drowning.
“Get. Him. Up.” Aidan's orders were followed by a man on either side of Lachlann, pulling him to standing, supporting him when his legs crumpled beneath the weight of his own body.
