to men she couldn’t see. No longer caring who she bumped and jarred, Moira turned down the nearest street and then the next, hoping to evade her brother and still draw closer to the docks.
“Moira! Stop!” Dónal called, and his voice was too close for Moira’s comfort. She pushed herself to run as fast as she could, crates and barrels on the docks nearly within reach. An arm looped around her waist and lifted her off the ground. She writhed and thrashed as Dónal shook her. She recognized the feel of Dónal’s hold, having been pinned by him too many times before. Orran came to stand before her, sneering and drawing too close.
Moira pushed back against Dónal and kicked her foot into Orran’s groin. She dug her nails into Dónal’s arm but couldn’t get him to release her. When he brought his other arm in front of her, she grabbed his hand and yanked it to her mouth. She sank her teeth in as far as they would go. Dónal released her at once, and Moira took off again. She scanned the ships in the docks, looking for the Lady Charity or the Lady Grace. But none of the ships belonged to the MacLean brothers. Instead, she identified several that belonged to her clan. Her brother had sailed with a full contingency to retrieve her.
A man turned toward Moira, and relief flooded her. She recognized Snake Eye just as he recognized her. She made for the dinghy he stood near and prayed she could make it there before Dónal and Orran recovered. It was to her great misfortune that Snake Eye waited at the far end of the quay. Unprepared for anyone else to stop her, she slammed into Beagan and stumbled backward. Her eyes widened, shocked to find the man who led her escape was now part of her capture.
“Don’t speak, lass,” Beagan murmured. “You needn’t fear. We came with Dónal not to return you to him, but to be sure you made it free this time. The council came.”
Moira stared in stunned disbelief before she shook her head. She strained to peer over Beagan’s shoulder, seeing Snake Eye running toward her. Before she understood what was happening, MacDonnells surrounded her, effectively hiding her from sight. She recognized every man who’d stood outside Sean’s chamber now escorted her back to her brother. None looked at her, but she didn’t feel endangered until she stood before Dónal. He reached out for her, but Cormac stepped in front and scowled.
“That’s what made her run in the first place. The O’Malley won’t want a battered bride,” Cormac pointed out. Moira watched Dónal cast her such an ominous glare that she feared he would kill her before handing her over to Dermot. Swallowing and keeping her eyes forward, she continued walking with the MacDonnell men serving as a shield. The group marched back to The Leg of Mutton, and Moira fought back tears. She’d reached her destination, but she’d found the wrong man. As she approached the door, she blinked several times, positive she was seeing things. Leaning against the corner of the building with his head down, she was certain she was looking at Tomas. He glanced up and winked before casting his eyes down. Moira’s eyes darted from one man to another who loitered next to the building or in its shadow. They were all from the Lady Charity.
Entering the building, relief washed over her to know Kyle would soon learn where she was. She peered at the faces inside, but she saw no one she recognized. Her heart dropped, fear replacing the relief. Dónal reached among the men and grabbed her arm, his grip punishing. He pulled Moira forward until she stood beside him, looking at the tavern keeper and a woman Moira assumed was his wife.
“Take her to my chamber, watch her strip bare, and take her clothes,” Dónal commanded the woman. Moira shuddered unintentionally. Dónal looked down and sneered at her. “You’re not going anywhere.”
The bluidy hell I’m not. I walked around in front of a pirate crew in nothing but a leine. I’ll be bluidy Lady Godiva before I let you keep me trapped. Kyle’s here. I won’t have long to wait. I can manage. But I’ll run out of this tavern as naked as I came into this world if that’s what I must to get away from you, you smarmy bastard.
Moira nodded demurely, none of her mutinous thoughts showing on her face. She followed the