That left to the west and the O’Sullivans, which Liam had already rejected, and to either the east or the north…both directions leading out of rebel clan territory toward where the Normans ruled—God help him,no.
Shaken by dread for Deirdre, Liam met up with Ronan and his wife as they rushed toward him…Triona O’Byrne so alike her daughter in face and form but for the fiery color of her hair and the emerald green of her eyes.
Eyes so wide and stricken as she stared at Liam, Ronan clearly having told her about the torn nightgown and Deirdre’s abduction, that Liam’s heart went out to her.
“I believe Darragh rides to the east or the north?—”
“Aye, we didn’t see them!” Triona broke in, her voice as anguished as she glanced at Ronan. “Surely he wouldn’t have ridden west to his clan?—”
“He’s taking her to the Normans.”
Now Triona seemed to blanch at Liam’s harshly uttered statement, though she lifted her chin and squared her shoulders before his very eyes.
A resolute look in her gaze and a determined set of her jaw that reminded Liam so much of Deirdre even as Ronan’s roared commands once again filled the air, Liam’s men-at-arms rushing to join them.
Liam knew then they would all be riding out together to find her—dear God, let them not be too late.
“Please…you’reholding me so tightly I can’t breathe.”
Deirdre wasn’t surprised when Darragh ignored her plea and pulled her closer against him, his arm like a steely vise while he steered their mount with his free hand.
The poor creature lathered, its breathing labored from their relentless pace northward…which made Deirdre shiver again at Darragh’s ruthless plan for her.
There was no use in trying to reason with him; she had tried desperately until he cursed against her ear and demanded her silence.
His only shocking revelation that he had been banished by his clan the day before he’d come to Glenmalure for attacking his elder brother, their father’s Tanist, so Darragh had nothing to lose for his actions—and everything to gain by taking her to the Normans.
God help her, had her family discovered she was missing? Liam? Yet how could she hope for any help from them when already, she and Darragh were miles away?
An hour or more had passed with the horror of her abduction and the terrifying threat of imprisonment by the Normanstempered only by fury at herself for not having fought Darragh tooth and nail in her bedchamber.
So he’d had a knife, Deirdre regretting fiercely that she hadn’t kicked him anyway, or punched him in the loins or done anything to defy him so she could make an attempt to get away.
She could have screamed, too, as loud and as piercing as she could muster, which might not have saved her from injury but at least someone would surely have come running—no, she was only fooling herself.
With the thunder crashing overhead and the howling wind, no one would have heard her, Deirdre wet to the skin despite her cloak as cold rain continued to pummel them.
A downpour so intense in this narrow valley that she longed for the leafy cover of trees again to shield them from the storm as lightning flashed and another crack of thunder made her jump, gasping.
“Be still, woman, where is your bravado now?”
Deirdre didn’t answer Darragh’s harsh sneer, her anger doubly aimed at herself for having ever believed him gallant and thoughtful—his flattering words only a ruse to beguile her into thinking he was someone more worthy than Liam.
No onewas more worthy than Liam and she had yelled at him to leave her bedchamber when if he had stayed, she wouldn’t be bound for Dublin Castle—which was the only hint Darragh had given her of their destination.
Dublin Castle, where the cruel Justiciar who ruled over the lands stolen from the Irish would no doubt shower Darragh with gold, aye, just as he had taunted her with a knife pressed to her back.
A knife he still held flat against her waist as if he feared mayhap she would make an attempt to break free of him…yet what use would she be to him if stabbed to death?
Mayhap Darragh O’Sullivan was as full of bluster as false flattery, which made Deirdre focus upon the fir trees ahead as their horse galloped uphill out of the valley at Darragh’s relentless urging.
A slower gallop that became a labored trot, the creature’s sides heaving and its head tucked lower and lower…until finally with a great shudder, their mount simply stopped, as if unable to go any further.
Incensed, Darragh released his hold upon Deirdre and used the reins to begin lashing at the horse, even as she cried out, “Stop it, you will kill him!”
She didn’t know if her anguished outburst or his cruelty caused their mount to rear up, whinnying shrilly, but they both tumbled backward onto the hard ground, Deirdre seizing her chance to scramble away from him before he could grab her.
Wildly, frantically as Darragh screamed for her to stop—which only made her clamber uphill on hands and knees in the mud, Deirdre ripping off the sodden cloak that was slowing her down.
