A large brown trunk on Lord Eirlie’s carriage jolted. One of Kenmore’s footmen darted forward, and the viscount pulled a pistol from his coat. The footman froze.
Lord Abercairn drew his own pistol out, aiming it as Summerset. Abercairn’s and Eirlie’s servants shifted uneasily before forming a barrier around their masters.
“Come now, Abercairn.” Lord Brandon stepped in front of his daughter. “What’s the meaning of this?”
The brown trunk bounced, shifted to the edge of the carriage’s roof.
Winnifred stifled a moan. She stepped toward Eirlie’s carriage, and the report of a gun cracked through the air, pulling her up short.
“Dunnae tempt me, Lady Dunkeld.” Two points of color rode high on Abercairn’s cheeks. “Ye think yer clever, don’t ye?”
She looked from the pistol to the trunk and back again. “Yes, of course, but my cleverness has nothing to do with your downfall. Lay down your weapons before you make matters worse for yourself.” A flash of white hair caught her attention as Tavish slunk into the castle. “You’ve lost, and all that remains is how deep a grave you wish to dig for yourself.”
Lady Abercairn hovered in the open door of the landau. “Abby, we should leave immediately.”
Abercairn strode forward and jerked Winnifred’s arm. The dirk fell from her grip, a puff of dust billowing in the air where it hit the dirt. “Aye, and yer coming with us.”
“In my night rail?” A high-pitched giggle slipped out of her mouth. She clapped a hand over her lips. Her blood pulsed sluggishly through her veins, making her limbs heavy, and she giggled again. Confound it, now was not the time to succumb to a case of nerves. She felt like she had when she’d drunk the wine she’d stolen from Lord Stamworth’s cellar.
The night she’d met Sin.
The night her life began.
Her gaze flew to Eirlie’s coach, and she tugged on her arm to no avail.
“Release her,Abby.” Summerset jumped to the ground, his lips pulled back, baring his teeth.
Abercairn leveled the pistol on Summerset. “If ye try to stop my carriage, Lady Dunkeld will die. Is that understood?”
The brown trunk rattled, bounced.
Winnifred twisted her wrist back and forth, but Abercairn’s grip held fast. Could Sin breathe in there? Was he losing the use of his limbs from being folded into such a small space?
The trunk lurched, hopped, and plummeted from its perch. The wood splintered, the lid popped open, and her husband rolled onto the dirt.
His blackeye was now swollen closed, and dried blood crusted half his face from a cut on his forehead. His auburn hair hung in disarray around his shoulders and his cravat was bunched under his chin. His one good eye found her, locking on her face with an expression so intense it stole her breath.
He kicked free from the cloth binding his ankles and drew himself up, a titan rising. His gaze shifted to the pistol in Abercairn’s hand. The tendons in Sin’s neck bulged and with a roar, he yanked his hands apart, his bonds splitting in two.
Lord Eirlie stepped forward and pointed his gun at Sin. “Calm yerself. We—”
Without turning his head, Sin threw his fist to the side and punched the viscount in the jaw. The man crumpled. Sin staggered forward, his left leg buckling under his weight. He caught himself, straightened, and trudged forward, dragging that leg behind him. He moved forward, slowly and deliberately, his rage a living thing.
“Get in here!” Lady Abercairn yelped.
Abercairn shifted, placing Winnifred’s body between him and her husband. “Unless ye want more blood to be shed, I’d suggest ye stop right there, Dunkeld.”
Stagger, straighten, drag. Sin took another limping step forward, unheeding. He looked a man possessed, and each foot he gained appeared hard-fought, and painful. Stagger forward, straighten, drag his useless leg.
Abercairn nodded at one of his servants, and the young man bounded over to intercept her husband.
Winnifred winced at the crack of bone, the crumple of his body.
Stagger, straighten, drag. Her husband kept coming.
Abercairn aimed the barrel of the pistol over her shoulder, taking aim at her husband, and something nameless clawed through her body. Something feral.
Her mind went white. Twisting, she bared her teeth and sank them into his wrist, biting down until she tasted blood.
