had no glass panels. It didn’t look like anyone had lived in the dwelling for years.
He slashed the rope at her ankles, the knife slicing into her skin. Abby gasped, but didn’t have time to see how much damage he’d done, as he hauled her up and pushed her toward the cottage.
“Inside.”
She did as she was told, entering the building and noting it was empty save for an unlit fire and an old cot to one side of the room. The floor was dirt, the air smelling of damp and mold. “Why have we stopped here?”
He looked out the door, ignoring her question.
“Why have we stopped?” Abby raised her voice the second time she asked, the fear over the unknown making her bolder.
He called out to one of his men to come to the cottage. He still didn’t answer her, but instead spoke to his clansman. “Watch the lass and don’t let her leave. If she tries, kill her, I don’t care how.”
Abby gasped in shock as he left her with a man that looked at her as if she were a tasty morsel of food, not a prisoner of his laird. She tore her gaze away as his attention lowered to her bosom, not wanting to see the salacious smirk that covered his god-awful visage.
She was a sitting duck, a target for anyone who wanted to hurt her, and tied up as she was, there was nothing she could do about it.
After a few hours of being held, Abby started to doze. It was dangerous to sleep, she knew that, and yet the pounding headache and lack of sleep the night before were catching up with her. The guard hadn’t moved, and even if he seemed to be thinking of taking her for his own pleasure, he hadn’t ventured from his post.
Famous last thoughts. No sooner had she thought it, than the sound of boots stomping across the floor woke her. She gasped as the guard grabbed her legs and pulled her down into a laying position. Abby screamed, kicking out as he tried to grab her legs and spread them apart.
Images of the horror that was about to come filled her mind. With her hands tied, she fisted them together and struck his jaw, snapping his head back. He laughed at her attack attempt, seemingly unfazed, before he slapped her hard. Abby blinked, wondering where she was for a moment, before absolute terror crashed her into reality.
He slid between her legs, the slimy tip of his jutting penis touching her thigh. Abby wrenched herself to the side, making him lose his balance. She used the moment to get up and run for the door. He caught her, pushing her forward, making her face plant into the ground. Dirt and moss entered her mouth as adrenalin flew through her veins.
Cool air touched her legs as he threw her gown up over her back. His hand pushed hard on her nape, pinning her against a rock. “Try that again, and I’ll slit yer throat. Now hold still, or it’ll be more than my cock you’ll feel back here.”
Aedan pushed hard through the night, his tracking hounds not taking long to find a scent of Clan Kirk and the bastard who dared to take Abigail. When he’d left her, he’d rounded up his clansmen, some less than helpful after a night of revelling, and gone looking for the soon-to-be-dead laird.
And found him missing.
That their camp was deserted wasn’t a surprise, but it made him wonder what the man was up to. He’d sent men off to try and see which direction they’d travelled, as he headed back toward the castle, wanting to ensure Abigail and Gwen were safe.
He’d found Braxton leaning up against his sister’s door, the man confirming all was well in that part of the castle. He’d then headed to Abigail’s room and found her servant with a broken neck on the floor, and no sign of his lass.
A chilling rage enveloped him and he’d bolted for the stables, calling to his men to take arms against Clan Kirk. They’d caught up with some of the other laird’s men within the hour who notified him the Kirks were headed toward O’Cain lands. No doubt hoping they’d find sanctuary within their treacherous walls. Rory Kirk would never reach O’Cain land, and he’d find no safety by the end of this night. Aedan would make sure of that.
Hours later, the light of day pierced the sky and he could see the