Page 48 of A Bride for the Kilted Beast

Diarmaid’s mind was reeling beneath the rain of blows. Somehow, he found the strength to shake his head and mutter, “Never heard of her. Ye have the wrong person, I tell ye.”

Goldtooth delivered a smashing blow to Diarmaid’s face that, judging from the pain that shot through his already throbbing head like a spear point, had likely broken his nose. Warmth trickled down his face, and he struggled to breathe through his mouth.

“Ye must have a death wish, man,” the man to his left sneered, smashing his fist into Diarmaid’s stomach.

With the air knocked out of him, gasping for breath now, Diarmaid felt his strength draining away. He began to fear the worst. If he did not come up with something, he knew he would die there, tied to a tree, murdered by the Lennoxes’ lackeys.

What if I told them I dinnae have Caelin McIrving’s daughter, that Caelin replaced her with Lillie, selling her in place of his daughter?

He decided against it. He reasoned there was no point in pulling Caelin and his unfortunate daughter into the mess he had created. Odhrán would likely kill them both, and the lass did not deserve that. Besides, the men would never believe him, and even if they did, they would keep on beating him out of sheer spite.

“Time’s running out, Kincaid. Ye need tae start telling us what we want tae ken. If ye dinnae give us the lass, we’ll just keep on beatin’ ye until ye’re finished,” Goldtooth threatened again.

Time was the thing Diarmaid knew he needed, time to marshal his shattered thoughts and think up a way to get free of his captors before they killed him. He let himself relax and slumped against his bonds, feigning unconsciousness.

Goldtooth grabbed him by the hair and pulled his head up, peering into his face. “Ach, he’s out, damn him,” he muttered, obviously frustrated, dropping Diarmaid’s head abruptly. “We’ll wait until he comes round again. We cannae go back without the lass, or Kincaid’s head. Come on.”

To Diarmaid’s temporary relief, they moved away and hunkered down again, soon becoming engrossed in a whispered discussion he could not hear. He wasted no time in continuing to work his wrists free of the ropes that bound them behind the tree trunk. He had been trying to loosen them even as the men had been beating him.

Finally, he felt them begin give against the constant pressure he had been exerting. Hope leapt in his breast, for he was certain that with one good tug, he would be free. But much as he burned for it, he knew it would be better to bide his time.

The men had taken his sword belt while he was unconscious. He could see it lying on the forest floor several feet away. Even with his hands free, his legs would still bound, and he had no blade to cut the ropes.

Though his entire body sang with agony, and the thought of another beating was frightening, he knew that if he was to survive, he had to try to take control of the situation. So, he let out a loud groan and opened his eyes, as if he was just coming round again. As he knew they would, the men approached him at once.

Determined to get out alive, he gave one last tug on the ropes tying his wrists and finally felt them fall away, out of sight of the men. He kept his wrists in place, so as to fool them into thinking he was still helpless.

“So, let’s continue, shall we?” Goldtooth jeered into Diarmaid’s face, his sidekicks flanking him. “Where’s the McIrving girl?”

“I told ye,” Diarmaid mumbled through split lips, “I dinnae ken what ye’re talkin’ about.” But this time, when Goldtooth raised his hand to strike him in the face, Diarmaid summoned all his strength and whipped his arms from behind him, blocking the blow with his palm. With his other fist, he punched Goldtooth savagely in the jaw, sending him sprawling.

In the resulting panic, with a surge of renewed power, Diarmaid elbowed the man to his left hard in the chest, knocking the air from him so that he stumbled backwards. At the same time, he deftly snatched the sword of the man to his right and ran the edge of the blade across his throat, leaving a necklace of dripping blood behind. The man collapsed, gurgling and clutching his throat. In seconds, the light went out of his eyes.

Siezing the moment, Diarmaid quickly sawed through his remaining bonds and sprang free, wielding the claymore with deadly intent as he advanced on Goldtooth and his surviving companion. Goldtooth was on his feet now, looking shocked at the unexpected turn of events. The other man took off running into the trees. Diarmaid kept his eyes fixed on Goldtooth as he shortened the distance between them.

“’Tis ye who’ll be doin’ the dyin’ today, ye bastard. Ye’ll be goin’ back tae yer maister in a box,” he growled menacingly through bruised and bloody lips. Despite the terrible pain wracking every part of his body, excitement gripped him at the prospect of killing the man and sending him back to Lennox, with his severed head between his feet.

But he was to be disappointed, because Goldtooth also took to his heels, pausing only to pull something from beneath his plaid and hurl it at Diarmaid before sprinting away after his companion and disappearing between the trees.

With the threat gone, Diarmaid’s sudden surge of strength deserted him, agony flooded his whole body, and darkness encroached on his vision once again. Like a falling tree, he crashed to the ground, his head hitting the forest floor with a bump.

His eyes were still open as he lay there, and the object Goldtooth had thrown at him was right in front of his eyes. Even in his dazed state, he realized it was a rolled parchment, sealed with red wax. But that was all he saw before darkness descended and he lost consciousness once more.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Lillie was in the healing room talking to Finian. She had partially gone to see him to tell him she had so far had no need to use the special potion, and partially just for his company as a friend.

However, deep down, she knew there was another part which simply wished to show her defiance to Diarmaid’s unwarranted accusation that there was something untoward going on between her and the healer. In fact, as she and Finian conversed, she half hoped her husband would find reason to walk by the open door and discover them again.

She had greatly enjoyed meting out her revenge to Diarmaid and was more than prepared to do it again. However, it was not he who interrupted them, but Sheila, the maid who had helped ready Lillie for her wedding.

“Sheila! I have nae seen ye since me weddin’,” Lillie said, surprised and pleased to see the maid’s familiar face. “How are ye?”

“Good day tae ye, me lady,” Sheila replied with a neat curtsey and small smile. “I’m grand, thank ye, and ’tis good tae see ye lookin’ so well yersel’.”

“Why, thank ye. Where have ye been hidin’ all this time?” Lillie asked.

“Och, I’ve nae been hidin’, me lady, but tendin’ tae me maither. She has an illness, ye see. That’s why I’ve some tae see Finian.” Sheila turned to Finian, and Lillie could not help but notice the way the maid’s face was transformed by a radiant smile when she looked at him.