It had been easy to sneak into Erbyn. Surely stealing away—even with Leah wounded—would prove less a task. Now that she had the stallion, escape was possible … She rubbed her hands together thoughtfully and wished Hagan hadn’t taken her daggers from her. Aside from a fleet horse, she needed a sharp weapon, a lot of courage, and twice as much luck. Still, the towering walls of Erbyn weren’t invincible, and Sorcha would find a way to break free. Or die trying.
Bang! Bang! Bang! The knock at the door was so loud, Sorcha jumped from her seat at the window. The door swung open before she’d recovered, and Hagan entered. “’Tis time for dinner. Come.”
She expected to see fury in his eyes as he held the door for her, but his face was a mask without emotion, his stare penetrating but unreadable.
She did as she was bid, for only if she lured him into believing that she was obedient would she gain his trust, which was very important were she to succeed in escaping. Linking her arm through his, she had a momentary vision of lying with him in his bed, their bodies entwined and naked, sweat glistening on his skin.
She swallowed hard. A deep flush warmed her cheeks.
Hagan took her elbow and guided her down the stairs that curved into the great hall. Tables and benches had been placed facing the baron’s table. Servants and commoners gathered together. There was much laughter and gossip, and the spirit of Christmas was in the air.
As Sorcha descended the stairs, a hush rolled over the crowd and every pair of eyes turned in her direction. She held her head aloft, her chin raised, as they walked through the throng.
“That’s the one,” she heard whispered. “ ’Tis said she’s got magic in her fingers—saved her sister’s life, she did.”
“That little mite of a thing?” Disbelief and a cackle of nervous laughter.
“Aye … they claim she’s got the bloody kiss of the moon printed on her backside.”
“The savior of Prydd is a girl?” Heartier laughter. “Well, I’ll be buggered.”
“I’d give me right eye to have a look-see at that mark.”
“On her rump, ye say?”
“Aye.” A snort not unlike a boar rutting. “Maybe me left eye, as well.”
Sorcha’s back stiffened and she wished by all that was holy that she had her little knife in her fingers. She felt the hot gazes upon her, heard the whispers and laughter, and wondered how she’d get through the meal.
They sat at the head table, she at Hagan’s side, her head held high despite the curious stares cast her way. On Hagan’s other side was a tall, stately woman with brown eyes and a long, slim nose. Hagan’s sister, no doubt, the owner of the clothes she was wearing.
“My sister, Lady Anne,” Hagan introduced. “Lady Sorcha of Prydd.”
“So the savior of Prydd is our guest,” Anne said as she lifted one elegant eyebrow. “The whole castle is speaking of you. I’ve heard you’ve been busy.”
“That I have, Lady Anne, and now all I want is for my sister and myself to be set free to go back to Prydd.” Mayhap Hagan’s sister wouldn’t turn a deaf ear on her request.
Hagan sent her a warning glare.
“ ’Tis not much to ask,” Sorcha insisted.
Lifting a shoulder, Anne agreed. “I see no reason why you can’t—”
“When your sister is well enough to travel,” Hagan interrupted, pinning Sorcha with his angry glare, “I will return with you myself.” Sorcha could hardly believe her ears. Her spirits soared for an instant. Mayhap Hagan was not the beast she believed him to be. “However, we first must hear from your brother. I’ve sent a messenger telling him that you are here and that we want peace.”
Her elation gave way to despair. Knowing Tadd as she did, she was certain that he would use Leah’s kidnapping and her capture to his advantage. He would demand payment of some kind—retribution for the slaying of Gwendolyn, Henry, and Keane. Her heart twisted when she thought of Keane and how he had wanted to marry her. She hadn’t loved him and suspected he was more in love with her wretched birthmark and the stories that surrounded it than he was in love with her, but he hadn’t deserved to die.
A thick lump filled her throat and she glanced at Hagan, handsome and proud, baron of all that was
Erbyn, a cruel and arrogant ruler.
Yet her traitorous heart already had found a soft spot for him, and though she experienced more than a little shame when she remembered how she’d nearly given herself to him, she still felt a spark of desire, a betraying want that coursed through her blood. Shameless desire she’d never felt with Keane.
Startled by the turn of her thoughts, she glanced up and found him staring at her, as intently as a hawk searching the ground for mice. For a horrible second she wondered if he could sense her thoughts.
“I’ll keep you from your sister no longer,” he said, his voice so low that the hounds beneath the table growled. “After dinner, you may see her.” For a second, kindness touched his features and he didn’t seem so threatening.
Pages brought bowls to wash their fingers and linen cloths to wipe them clean. Another page carefully filled the wine cups. From the hallway near the kitchen, a trumpet blared, announcing the first course of boiled mutton and spiced sauce. Ada, the cook, sending Sorcha a blistering glare, carried a huge platter of the mutton while other servants brought in more food: huge dishes filled with brawn and pike, pheasants and custard. Though her stomach rumbled, Sorcha could barely eat.