“Somewhere where ye will ne’er get your filthy hands on them.”
The blow he struck against her face snapped her head sideways with such force pain shot through her neck. Arianna again steadied herself, holding her legs so taut and straight that they ached, too. She knew Amiel could not allow her to live no matter what the DeVeaux wanted. He had let her see the truth of all his plans. She knew too much now.
“You will tell me where Claud’s whelps are, bitch, or you will suffer.”
Arianna touched her mouth and then looked at the blood on her fingers. She could already feel the swelling in her face, her skin tightening with it. There were very few places on her body that did not already throb with pain from Amiel’s fists and booted feet. She knew it would only get worse because she had no intention of telling him anything. What she wished she could do was fight back, to knock him down and kick him a few times.
Still staring at the blood on her fingers, she suddenly wondered where that spine had been when Claud had battered her with his cruel words. If he had backhanded her even once, she would not have hesitated to leave, undoubtedly making sure that Claud tasted a little pain himself before she walked away. Yet she had allowed him to cut her with words. Claud had found a weakness in her that she had not seen and used it to turn her into a quiet little shadow, one who never fought back, never questioned. She looked at Amiel and saw that same cruelty in him, only Amiel preferred to be more direct in his abuse.I should have seen it,Arianna thought.
“And ’tis a strange time to have an epiphany,” she muttered, knowing there was a very good chance she would not be alive long enough to shake free of the chains Claud had bound her with.
“What did you say?” demanded Amiel.
“Naught that concerns you,” she replied, idly wondering if she had the strength to kick him right in his precious manparts.
“Where are the boys?”
“Why are ye even troubling yourself to ask? Ye ken where they are already, or think ye do. The DeVeaux have sent ye word several times, have they nay?” She almost smiled at the surprise on his face, something he tried to quickly hide from her.
“They have only surmised where they might be. I think you know exactly where they are.”
“And I think ye just wish to pretend that ye have a good reason to beat a lass half your size.”
Even as he moved to strike her, she kicked out, slamming the toe of her booted foot right between his legs. She stumbled back a few steps as she struggled to right herself. Amiel gave a strangled scream, clutched himself, and fell to his knees. Arianna knew she was going to pay dearly for that. All that troubled her was that it had not even given her a chance to try and get to her horse because two of Amiel’s men immediately moved to guard her.
The way Amiel retched and muttered vile curses against her under his breath should have terrified her, Arianna thought. Instead, she moved to kick him again, trying to strike a blow to his head. The men flanking her put a stop to that and she sighed. As Amiel stumbled to his feet, his expression a twisted grimace of pain and fury, she knew that even threatening him with the anger of the DeVeaux would not stop him from beating her to death now.
When Amiel swung his fist at her it hit her hard enough to send her staggering into one of the men guarding her. She cursed the man for that as it kept her upright and made it easier for Amiel to keep pummeling her. When the man finally moved, if only to get out of the way of Amiel’s flailing fists, she fell to the ground and braced herself for the hard kicks she knew would come next.
Instead, a heated argument ensued. She was fighting unconsciousness so fiercely that she caught only a few words, but Lord Ignace DeVeaux was mentioned several times. It was strange that the man’s name was not enough to terrify Amiel out of his rage, and she had to wonder if they were being chased by the winemaker and not the torturer. The men were still trying to remind Amiel yet again of his obligations, but she knew they would fail. She had seen her death in Amiel’s eyes.
She struggled up onto her hands and knees, and she prayed that Brian had returned for her and was, even now, coming to rescue her. It was the only hope she had of surviving.
Chapter 13
“Easy, lad. Ye cannae just ride o’er them,” Sigimor said as he grabbed the reins of Brian’s mount to halt his cousin’s attempt to gallop off.
Brian nearly yanked the reins back but good sense pierced his fury. Sigimor was right, although he would prefer to cut out his own tongue before telling his cousin that. Fergus’s report of what was happening to Arianna but a short ride away had blinded him with fury. He was also angry with himself for attempting to charge over the land with nothing but his fear for Arianna to lead him. It was only Sigimor’s calm leadership that had kept him on the right trail.
From the moment she had been taken, he had had to struggle fiercely against the fear for her and the fury against himself for not keeping her safe. Worse, there had been no sign that it had been a carefully planned attack. Lucette and his men had simply stumbled upon the prize they had been scouring Scotland for. Brian could not help but take the blame for that upon his shoulders. He had known Lucette was out there somewhere, that the man had too much knowledge about the places Arianna might go to seek safety, and he should have taken more care with her.
“How long do ye intend to wear that hair shirt?” asked Sigimor even as he signaled his men to dismount and secure the horses.
“I should have stayed with her,” Brian said as he dismounted and tugged his mount deeper into the shadows of the trees, securing the reins to a low-hanging branch. “I kenned that Lucette was aware of where Arianna might run to yet I left her to try to see exactly where the fool was. I kenned he was on the same trail. I didnae need to see that with my own eyes.”
“Nay, ye did. He might ken where she will go but he doesnae ken the exact path or even have to take it.”
“Nay, it didnae matter. Since they were nay anywhere in sight or riding up our arses, I could have let it be.”
“Nay, ye couldnae have and ye will ken it when ye clear your wee head. Hold,” he snapped when Brian opened his mouth to continue the argument. “Someone approaches,” Sigimor said, and drew his sword. “One. Coming slowly. Hide.”
Brian joined the others in slipping silently into the shadows. A man rode into the small clearing where they had all stood but a heartbeat before and Brian immediately recognized him as Sir Anton, one of Lucette’s men. Staying close to his cousin, he stepped out into the clearing while Sigimor swiftly snatched the reins from the surprised man’s hands and held a sword on him.
Sir Anton slowly raised his arms. “I am not your enemy,” he said.
“Nay? I saw ye with Lucette,” said Brian. “Ye ride with the pig. Has he sent ye to watch for us?”
“No. The fool, he does not think to look for anyone to follow or hunt for the Lady Arianna. He holds the same blind contempt for the lady as his brother did, and for all who live in this country. I but try to make my way home.”
