“Then this shall be the first payment in more gold coin to come.” Torsten rubbed his jaw in a way calling to greed when he sensed the prey easing into his web. “Enough to build your own castle, begin a clan in your own rendering, a place of respect among the lords here within the Highlands – your Highlands. What say you, MacCade?”
To her horror, Aonghus wiped his blade on Sturan’s unmoving tunic before sheathing the sword to step forward. “I would care to count the gold first.”
Torsten grinned like a demon’s descendent. “For certain.”
“MacCade,” she whispered, but her voice broke on the second syllable by a sob.
Only his back remained to her vision, which was slowly turning blurred by tears at his departing form. No, it couldn’t be, he would never betray her.
“Do not fear, Keirah,” Torsten murmured, “I shall make certain a promising word is said regarding your manners once we have returned to Lord Kollungr…what are you doing?!”
She gasped as Aonghus in one swift movement swept up the leather bag of coins, covered the distance in a single stride that would take most men three, and grabbed Torsten by the mantle around his throat.
The Northman’s scream was muffled when her Scotsman stuffed the bag into his mouth, causing blood to rain on his chin at the force with which the coins were jammed. In another flawless move, he threw Torsten into the chamber’s lone chair; in three swipes of Torsten’s waist strap the Northman was tied up and looking at her mercenary with eyes wide as the hearth behind him.
Aonghus removed his dagger to place it at the enemy’s throat. “I would slay you directly, then hang your hide for Lord Kollungr to find – perhaps in blood eagle, calling to your raiders’ traditions once unleased upon our lands.” Somehow Torsten’s eyes turned bulgier. “However, there is a purpose to your survival. Take a hard look upon the Scotswoman present.”
Her protector grabbed the few remaining hairs on Torsten’s head to jerk his attention toward her. “You see her?”
Torsten gave a wee nod.
“You tell your Lord Kollungr, she is nae longer under his charge, nor will she ever be once more,” Aonghus ground out between clenched teeth. “The purpose in which you will live is to tell him I shall be hunting him once I have seen the Scotswoman safe fromallyour clutches. The first to fall was that puddle of northern swine piss in the passageway, Rune; ‘your’ Lord Kollungr will be next. You tell him, I shall and will be hunting him directly to hell’s door, understood?”
Torsten glared at her.
At the lack of agreement, Aonghus growled, “You nod your brow, or I will punch these coins down your throat.” The Northman’s nostrils flared from pain when Aonghus jerked his face roughly back to his. Torsten gave one mere inkling in brow before Aonghus slammed his fist into the foe’s jaw, dropping his head onto his chest, casting Torsten unaware.
***
Her feet had gone beyond numb hours past, but her heart was a firestorm in emotion from the events at the inn. Aonghus had turned down a fortune, a chance at a fresh life…for her.
Not all seemed as enamored by his actions as she. After the bloody display, Iain had politely kicked them from the establishment. She looked toward Aonghus; at least they had let him wash the remains belonging to Clyde and Rune from his skin, also providing some wine for the cuts upon his knuckles and neck.
They left Torsten at the inn for Lord Kollungr’s discovery. Any hope for securing a horse was dashed after paying the innkeepers a handsome fee to see about the pair of seeping corpses. Aonghus changed the plan, and they were pressing through the darkness directly on to Stirling with hopes of reaching the castle after dawn.
Keirah tugged the clean cloak and simple navy gown with obscenely low neckline about her – compliments of Fiona, from whom the garments had been purchased given her own hadn’t dried in time.
So here they walked among the woodland’s creatures; howling, hooting, and rustling for survival or fornication. Conversation had been scarce due to the addition of a newly toothless traitor. Aonghus had fashioned a leather strap aboutthe prisoner’s ankles with enough give to make certain Sturan might walk but not bolt.
“MacCade, you are a fukin’ prick of a warrior.” Pure hate caressed Sturan’s words. “My ankles were bleedin’ an hour past; you may loosen the damn ties.”Spoken by a vile soulless wretch.
She narrowed her eyes at Sturan then placed her finger under her nose when the breeze took her direction, trying to stifle Sturan’s body odor fumes, which were always rank from his soiled appearance.
“Fortune smiles on you that you may still speak curses.” Aonghus glared at him before giving a shove from behind. “The only reason you still pull breath is the king commanded me to capture you for his own direct attention and question you upon the whereabouts of Seumas and Sorley.”
“Ack! The grand Alexander.” He spat the name. “You are two Highland fools if you think to pledge your loyalty unto that louse.”
She turned to spy Sturan picking at a scab on his palm with his bound hands. “You are the fool to trust Lord Kollungr,” she challenged. “What did the Northman promise you for my return?”
He replied, innocently: “’Twas done in the name of King Håkonsson’s service.”Liar!
“You must truly consider me a fool to declare such a falsity,” she pressed, walking backward.Don’t trip on the pebble. Her eyes stayed locked on Sturan’s. “Tell me, what did the troll promise to cross his bridge?”
The prisoner began picking at the scab with a vengeance appearing born from anxiousness. “A vessel.”
“A ship, one of King Håkonsson’s fleet?” she asked, disgust raising her voice. “I am worth the price of a ship. Not even one built by House of Kolbeck, given their refusal to enter the conflict.”
“You are worth more than this, Keirah; Lord Kollungr took leave of his senses when you bolted on him,” Sturan retorted. “The Northern lord promised me another helping in gold coin if you were returned unsoiled after we spied large footprints in the mud beside yours. Appears it will be a vessel and nae gold given you already sprawled upon your back, legs wide, for the first who happened to cross your path.”
