“Yer faither is yer Laird,” Myrna protested. “Nae MacDuff. Why are ye doing this, Walter? I thought—I cannae believe—”
Walter ignored her. “I asked him about yer question, Eithne. He’s ridden on ahead, and we’re taking ye to him in Fife. Myrna will accompany us, and she can even live with ye in yer castle once ye’re Lady MacDuff.”
Lady MacDuff. I’d rather throw meself from a tower.
“And if I refuse to marry him even now?” Eithne asked though she knew the answer. The sinking pit in her stomach confirmed it more than any words could.
“Then we slice her throat, and she bleeds out in front of ye,” another man said. Eithne hadn’t noticed another soldier enter – one of MacDuff’s men, no doubt. She couldn’t even be horrified. This, then, was how it all must end.
And what else could she do? Even if Myrna escaped, where could she go? She couldn’t go back to their uncle, not now. And Eithne’s sister wasn’t built to live on the road. She needed protection; she needed a home.
She needs me to marry Rory MacDuff.
So, although it made her sick, Eithne nodded in the darkness. “Let’s go,” she said tiredly. “Let’s go now. Fetch me and me sister some food, and then we’ll be ready. I’ll marry yer Laird, and may ye all burn in hell.”
A strong, rough hand closed around her upper hand, dragging her to her feet. “That’s nae way for a woman to talk,” the unknown soldier hissed in her ear. “Watch yer tongue, or I’ll cut it out. I’m sure Me Laird would understand if ye were to have a little accident.”
Eithne closed her mouth. What would Ivor do? She remembered him once explaining that he’d learned to wait and watch before acting, but what acts were left on her? She could almost hear his voice in her ear, though, and that gave her strength.
“Survive.”
I will, Ivor. Just you watch me.
* * *
Ivor and Jonah had searched the entire house and the surrounding homes to the one where Rory had established his base of operations in the area, but it was completely empty. Ivor knew that Jonah was not misleading him. The lad’s face was drawn and pale, and he kept calling out the name of a woman – probably the sister Rory had held captive to control him.
Och, lad. Ye let yerself get led down a path ye werenae ready for. Let’s hope we arenae too late.
“I dinnae understand,” Jonah said as they left the neighbor’s house. His anger was evident, his face a dark red. “He was here! Why would he leave?!”
“He wants to marry Eithne in front of witnesses from his own clan,” Ivor told him. Personally, he was surprisingly calm. It was the same calm that overcame him before a battle – the cold, airy certainty that he would either win or die. “He probably went on ahead and had his soldiers bring the lassies when he knew it was safe.”
“And me sister?” the boy asked desperately. “And the bairn?”
What could Ivor tell him? The smartest move for MacDuff was also the most likely move. He would likely be disposing of his witnesses. But Ivor couldn’t tell Jonah that. He couldn’t take away his hope. “I’m nae sure,” he said instead. “Ye said yer mither was still on MacDuff land. Maybe he took them back.”
Jonah nodded, though it was clear neither of them believed it. “And Myrna? He wanted Eithne? What will he do with Myrna?”
That one was easier. “He’ll use her to bargain. He’ll use her to get Eithne to do whatever he wants. She’d rather lose her own life than marry him, but she willnae risk her sister’s.”
Jonah looked genuinely sick. “What have I done?”
Ivor grimaced and patted his shoulder. “Ye’ve sinned. And ye’ll spend yer life making up for it. But yer actions were fueled by a devil, and we’re gonnae overcome it.”
Jonah’s expression cleared. “Aye,” he said. “Aye, ye’re right. There’s nae time for moping. We need to go after them.”
“Good lad,” Ivor responded. He looked around. “Here’s what we’re gonnae do. We’re gonnae go around and find out if anyone saw a group of men and a couple of lassies leaving the city. We’re gonnae find out exactly what way they went. We’re gonnae find their trail. And then we’re gonnae slaughter anyone who tries to stop us from getting them back. Can ye do that?”
Jonah didn’t even hesitate. He nodded. His expression was extremely grim. “As ye say, Me Laird.”
“I’m nae Laird, Jonah,” he reminded him, though Jonah had called him the same before.
“Ye’re mine,” Jonah replied. Me life is in yer hands. I swear meself to ye, Ivor Sinclair, because ye’re the only thing left I can believe in.”
Ivor felt discomfort crawling over his skin, but he just nodded. “If ye insist,” he said. “We can argue the details later. Let’s go.”
Chapter Thirty
