The Red Drifter of the Sea (Pirates of the Isles #3) - Celeste Barclay Page 0,89

prayed he drank himself to death, but when he’d staggered into the chamber during the middle of the night only to spew vile curses at her before passing out in a chair, she knew she hadn’t been so fortunate. The sun was now well above the horizon, and Dónal continued to snore. Moira spied a knife handle protruding from Dónal’s boot and wondered if she was sly enough to steal it. Noise outside the door told her that Dónal had guards posted in the passageway, so the door wasn’t a means of escape. But she’d had hours alone in the chamber before she’d given up and gone to sleep. She’d broken all of her nails and rubbed her tips of her fingers raw, but she’d worn away much of the grime that kept the window from opening. She suspected she could pry the window open if she had a knife to scrape the last of the accumulated dirt out of the hinges.

Sometime while she slept, Dónal woke long enough to strip off his doublet. Loathe as she was to touch any item of his clothing, it would be something she could wear. It would come to her knees, since she was nearly a foot shorter than her brother. She intended to fold the sheet in half and wrap it around her waist several times before she donned the doublet. As long as the makeshift skirt allowed her legs enough freedom to climb and run, it would cover her enough for no one to claim she was indecent. She stood by her promise to herself that she would run through the streets of Wicklow naked if she had to, but she hoped she had an alternative.

Easing from the bed, cringing when the springs creaked, Moira watched Dónal to see if he stirred. He didn’t even twitch. She made short work of folding the sheet around her and putting on his doublet. If he woke while she tried to steal his knife, she would fight with all her might if she had to. If he stirred once she had the knife, she would claim she’d covered herself in his presence. Tiptoeing closer, Moira’s eyes darted between Dónal’s face and his knife. He snored noisily, and she prayed it would dampen any sound she made while trying to get the window open. With deft fingers, Moira kneeled beside Dónal and eased the blade from his boot. She hurried to slide it into her sleeve before she retreated to the bed. She expected him to lunge at her, but he didn’t move. His breathing remained the same, and she didn’t think he woke. But she waited out several minutes, sitting on the bed before she rose again and slipped on her boots.

Licking her lips, her heart pounding in her ears—she was tired of the sound after days of living in fear—Moira walked to the window. If her brother was awake, she believed he would demand she step away. But he did nothing. She looked out the window and found Tomas where she’d last seen him as it grew dark the night before. She didn’t dare bang on the window to get his attention. She looked around and found Snake Eye leaning against the next building down. She wondered why the men Kyle trusted most were watching her rather than at least one of them searching for Kyle. She assumed something had happened because she knew in her heart, he wouldn’t leave her to Dónal. Even if he didn’t want her anymore, he wouldn’t accept her being with her brother. She’d seen the murderous intent when he learned Dónal mistreated her.

With each of Dónal’s snores, she scraped around the hinges. She peered back at him with every excessive inhale, sure that he was about to awake. But he never did. When she was certain the window should open, Moira pressed outward, relief flooding her when the shutters and glass moved. She glanced around to see if there was anything she could use to the climb down. The second-story window wasn’t so far above the ground that she would kill herself if she jumped, but she would surely fracture whatever she landed on. She was willing to take the risk and the pain if it meant escaping Dónal. None of the clan council members had done anything to help her throughout the night. None had sneaked to her chamber as they had the night she fled Dunluce. She knew not—cared not—who stood watch outside her chamber