“Who does the lass think she is?” asked one between his giggles as he slapped his leg. “The king of England?”
“The lass sure is a fiery one. Perhaps we should obey?” teased another.
“What do ye think she will do to us if we disobey?” laughed another. “Slit our throats while we sleep?”
Elsy listened to their voices. She scrutinized their statures, the way they spoke, how thick or short they were, trying to place them in her mind. She recognized none of them. Not even the one-eyed brigand. His eye was familiar, yet she had never heard his voice before. It sounded too gruff, too deep. The men hadn’t been employed in the McCormick Castle, at least that she knew of. So why would they capture her? She doubted it was all in vain. There was a reason for it, and she was going to get to the bottom of it.
“Aye, I’ll slit yer throat,” Elsy said menacingly.
Their laughter eased and they stared at her with arms crossed and gazes that doubted her ability. Elsy straightened her back, jutting out her chin. “I am the Laird McCormick’s widow, and I will make ye all pay dearly for what ye have done this day. Mark my words, lads.”
“And how do ye plan to do that?” asked the one-eyed brigand as he stepped into view. His eye was narrowed, as if he were scrutinizing her every word. “Yer husband is dead. Ye left the castle with nae word. Yer men are all dead.”
Elsy opened her mouth, wanting to say something threatening, but all he had said was true. There was no one coming for her. The only ones who knew of her journey were the McKades, but they wouldn’t have a clue where to look. She would be long dead before they found her. Her bottom lip quivered as hopelessness came over her. Her eyes welled with tears. She sniffed as she closed her eyes, trying to calm the pounding in her heart.
Don’t lose hope,she told herself. She needed to believe in herself if she was going to get free. She couldn’t fall into despair. There had to be something she could do, something she could say to appeal to their humanity.
“Please,” she whispered with her eyes still closed. “Please, let me go. I have done naething. I am naething. What could ye want with someone like me?”
Silence was her answer. The wind bustled past. Her damp hair whipped against her skin and the sting of it reminded her she was still alive. They hadn’t done anything to her. They possibly wouldn’t. She had to hold onto hope.
Her eyes opened at the dark chuckle meeting her ears, making her skin prickle with both fear and chill. She frowned, her body shivering in the rain and cold. Her teeth chattered and quickly she clenched them tight, not wanting to appear weak.
“Yer correct,” he said bitterly. “Ye have done naething. Yer husband, I suppose, would also say he did naething.”
“My husband?” Elsy whispered.
So, they are enemies of my husband’s,she realized. It was exactly what she had suspected. But what clan did they belong to? Or had they been hired by another? And why would they want her? Alan was dead and could do no more. There was no justice to be had by kidnapping his widow. Perhaps, they wanted justice, but Elsy didn’t know for what.
“Do ye miss him, Lady McCormick?” asked the one-eyed brigand. “Do ye miss having him to warm yer bed?”
Elsy bristled, her face flushing a deep red. The tears in her eyes dried up, replaced by rage boiling and demanding to be released. “That is none of yer business,” she whispered harshly. “How dare ye speak to a lady in such a manner.”
“A lady?” he spat. “How can ye deem yerself a lady after lying with Laird McCormick? I suppose ye enjoyed him well. Rather than lady, perhaps I should call ye McCormick’s mistress.”
Elsy gasped. “How dare ye!” she shouted, stomping her foot on the ground.
If her hands weren’t bound, she would smack him. The men around her chuckled. All except for the one with freckles, who seemed to be more fascinated with the grass at his feet.
“How dare I?” The one-eyed brigand chuckled.
Elsy screamed, the sound high-pitched and echoing over the lands. The men groaned and covered their ears while the leader lurched toward her, clamping his hand over her mouth. His blue eye held hers as she scowled up at him.
“Don’t do that,” he whispered gravely, yet there was something in his stare that made her insides warm, and her body lean toward him. He smelled nice, like the earth itself. She hadn’t noticed before. Her attentions had been focused on escaping, but now there was something akin to desire in his face as he stared back at her. A shiver rippled down her spine, one that made her frown deepen as she realized it wasn’t fear she felt.
“If ye scream again, I will shove that rag back down yer throat. Do ye want that?”
As much as Elsy wanted to make a ruckus, she found herself gagging at the mere thought of that cloth being stuffed into her mouth once more. Slowly, she shook her head, not breaking eye contact with the brigand.
“Good,” he said, his hand slipping away from her mouth.
She noticed the way the hand, once touching her mouth, fisted; the way he drew away from her as if her touch was venomous. “Ye won’t get away from this,” she whispered. “Ye may have captured me, but don’t think I will make one moment easy for ye. I will escape. Or I’ll die trying.”
The brigand huffed, grabbing her by the ropes binding her hands and dragging her behind him toward the horse. “I suspected as much,” he said gruffly.
Darkness clouded her vision once more as he grabbed the bag lying on the ground and shoved it over her head. She ground her teeth as he picked her up, setting her on the horse. He followed soon after, pulling her close to him before grabbing the reins. Elsy tried to keep herself still, tried to keep herself away from him, but his heat called her toward him and soon after they began traveling once more, her head was resting against his chest.
Her eyes drooped as they travelled on, exhaustion setting into her shoulders, her arms, her legs. They did not stop for water or rest. She didn’t know how long it would be until they reached wherever it was they were taking her, or how far away from the McKades’ that place was. Sometimes, she found herself falling asleep, other times she was too rattled, unable to close her eyes for a single moment as her mind was plagued with what would come. She didn’t know if she could take anymore tragedy after these last few years, after these past few days.
Elsy leaned into the brigand’s chest as another gust of wind whistled past, chilling her skin. She wished for her cloak, but it was left in the carriage. All she had was this brigand to keep her warm. She could feel his hands covering hers as he held his reins. His cloak was wrapped around her, protecting her from the rainfall. She wanted to shove him away, to take his cloak and throw it to the wind, but she was too exhausted and cold to fight.
She wiggled closer to him, releasing a sigh as she rested her head on his chest, enjoying the comfort of his warmth. Her eyes widened as she felt something hard digging into her back. It wasn’t the hilt of a sword, nor was it a hand. She stifled a whimper, holding herself very still, as she realized it was the one-eyed brigand behind her. He desired her.
Tears prickled her gaze as she thought of what was awaiting her. She imagined someone holding her down as her skirts were ripped from her body. She imagined someone shadowed looming above her, wanting to use her up. Was this why they had taken her? They hated Laird McCormick so much they wanted to defile his widow? The thought made her want to gag.
“We’re almost there,” said the brigand, his voice soft and gentle as he lightly touched her back.
Elsy shivered and closed her eyes.What do his words mean?she wondered gravely.
