“I’m going to gut the bastard, make him bleed, and possibly kill him before his men.”
“You cannot do that! Aedan, surely there’s another way.” He stared at her, seemingly not hearing anything she was saying.
“Not in this time there is not.”
His words plummeted her heart into her stomach. The thought that Aedan could be injured, or worse, killed by the unhinged Rory Kirk was too much to comprehend. “Please, you can’t. I didn’t tell you so you would go off and seek revenge.”
“But I will and there’s nothing ye can do or say that’ll stop me.” He paused at the tapestry, turning slightly to meet her gaze. “Should anything happen, hide in the secret passage until help arrives. No one will find ye there. If ye manage it without assistance, the passage leads out under the southern wall where ye can escape or seek help.”
Abby swallowed her gnawing panic. “Aedan, please. Don’t go.”
He didn’t say anything, merely turned and left, the tapestry falling back into place as if he never was. Abby slumped onto the stool beside the fire, her stomach churning with what tonight would bring.
Again her mind replayed the events of the day. Of Rory Kirk’s threats, his laughing, sadistic gaze. What’s more, a niggling thought plagued her that the bastard laird had threatened her in the hopes that she would tell Aedan. Had she unwittingly led Aedan into a trap?
Noises sounded outside, and she crossed the room and looked out the window. From here she could make out the land that the games were used for. Torches burned bright in the night sky, the sounds of clansmen enjoying drink and good company whispered on the wind.
The moon caught her eye and she cringed seeing it was full. A bad omen? Or the sign of new beginnings? That she wouldn’t know for some hours. The longest she’d ever lived in her life.
She jumped at the loud bang against her door. She sat up in the window seat, touching her cold cheek that had been leaning against the stone wall. The banging sounded again and she stayed where she was, frozen and unable to decide if she should speak or run for her life.
“Who is it?” Her voice sounded timid, pathetic. She cleared her throat. “Who is it?” she said, loud enough for whoever was on the other side to hear.
“It’s me, mistress. Your chamber servant. Laird MacLeod sent me up to check on ye, and ensure you were settled for the night.”
Relief poured through her as she crossed the room, sliding the trunk to the side. “Yes, I’m fine, Betsy.” She opened the door and gasped, trying to shut it as Rory Kirk stood on the other side, knife to her servant’s throat. He was too strong and pushed his way into the room, throwing the woman to the floor with enough force that she didn’t get back up again.
“Foolish woman, Abigail, if that’s what yer calling yourself these days.” He laughed, shutting the door and bolting the lock across. “I thought it’d be much harder gaining entrance into ye room. Seems ye still as daft as ye ever was.”
“What do you want?” She backed toward the fire, the closest place in the room that had some sort of weapon, the fire poker. If only she could reach her bed and grab the small knife she’d stashed under her pillow. The fire poker could only do so much, and against this brute she doubted it’d give him a bruise.
“Don’t fight me on this, lass. You’re comin’ with me.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you.” Her hand clasped the cold metal and she held it behind her back, hiding it in the skirts of her gown. He advanced on her, a menacing beast she knew she’d never win against. “Where’s Aedan?”
“Taken care of.” He smiled, showing off his rotten front teeth. “He’ll not be looking for ye tonight.”
Despair washed over her, nearly crippling her limbs. “Is he dead?” Her breathing came in quick succession and she clasped her throat, finding it hard to catch her breath.
“Not yet. But one day, and hopefully, one day soon. Now come.” He stepped toward her, but stopped when she backed away.
She sidled around him, trying to get closer to the door. Knowing it was now or never to make her move, she threw the poker at his face and bolted toward escape. He swiped at the projectile like it was an annoying moth and flung it to the floor. Unharmed, he caught