“I am here because I’m too stubborn to stay behind,” she said with raw determination.
He laughed. “You are as your father, too easily swayed by vows you view as binding when others act for self-preservation.” His gaze sobered as he studied the way she stood. “Your ankle is again injured.”
She nodded and shrugged it off. “I’m going to the hall.”
“Aye, ‘tis a fine plan. You limp, and your body still recovers from the loss of a child.” Merrick laughed at her. Then his eyes widened before she could turn away. An uneasy silence spread into the chamber, and she knew once again her expressions had given her away. But Merrick surprised her. “Come with me while we still have hope of leaving. Let me save one wee one.”
Emma studied his offer and knew the moment a cold thought flashed through his eyes.
Standing straighter, Merrick said, “My father counts on there being no challenge to the claim on these lands.”
Caught in his gaze, a chill crept down her spine. Gone was the offer of escape, and Merrick’s face revealed the calculation running through his mind. She knew her inability to hide any thought had placed her in harm’s path.
His eyes fell to the swords on the floor. Given the distance to her blade, he would reach his first. Gripping the dagger in her hand without raising it, she asked, “Do you find me to be a threat all of a sudden, or do you think you can trade me for what you want? It won’t work and you know it. Your father will kill me and still treat you like garbage.” Softening her voice, she added, “It looks like you plan on using me, too.”
Still staring at the weapons, he admitted, “The thought has occurred to me.” Meeting her gaze, he said, “If you can love the child of another, so can I. We leave now.”
Letting out a sigh of relief, Emma stepped closer. “I believe you and thank you, but my place is here. Tell me, Merrick, where is your place?” Her heart hammered as he bent to pick up the weapon, and she shifted her stance to one of self-defense.
“Hold, Emma. There is no threat to you,” Merrick said, wrapping his hand around the sword pommel and standing to full height. The only fact that kept her from kicking the weapon out of his hand was his relaxed posture.
“You never answered my question. Where is your place? When tonight is over, what happens to you?” Holding his gaze that pondered the question, she said, “I’ve made my choice. Now you. Help me save them.” She could only pray that somehow his decent side would rule over his need to serve his father.
“I have never had the luxury of choices,” Merrick answered with sad eyes.
“You do now. You can either do your father’s bidding or you can do the right thing and save the people you care about. There has to be a way,” Emma implored. “If you care about me at all, help me.”
The sword lifted in his hand to rest against her throat, and despite the feel of the cool metal, she stood still while Merrick debated his options. His eyes gleamed, and she hoped she would be able to trust his next words. “The only way to bring you into the hall would be as my prisoner. You would be seen as a fine prize. I need to bind your hands and take all of your weapons.”
“In case you’ve forgotten, I am the weapon.” Emma reminded herself even as she boasted to Merrick. Without another option, she handed him the dagger.
Too quickly her hands were bound behind her back with the raw hide that had previously held the dagger to her waist. Testing the hold, she said, “You tied this too tight. I can’t free my hands.” What did I just do?
“‘Tis as it needs to be. If there is no chance of saving them, it allows me to carry you away without as much fear you will kill me.” Merrick opened the door and pushed her into the corridor.
Approaching the steps, Emma again felt the sword at her throat and realized too late Merrick could be lying to her. She would be a prize, maybe even one large enough to be worthy of lands.
Chapter 35
“Drop the weapon, Declan. All was over before it began,” Glenn stated while he grinned at Mary who pulled against his grip. “You have already been declared dead. It will be my great pleasure to see it done once and for all.”
Of all the possibilities Declan had prepared for, the one he faced was beyond his scope of imagining. His small daughter, held with a blade against her side, brought the panic he had been trained to ignore. That Glenn held the Draig sword with the beast curled around the pommel only made the nightmare more surreal.
His hand held tight to his borrowed weapon even though he would have little chance to harm his uncle without risking Mary’s life. It has all gone wrong. His men bore no swords and were surrounded by Glenn’s men. The trained warrior in him saw no advantage and knew the battle to be lost. The weapon dropped from his hand, and the clang echoed in his head.
No help would come now. Cortland would see the futility of the situation and hopefully flee to drag Emma to safety. Glancing around the hall again, all he saw was the end. Bless my men, they stand tall and proud even when faced with death. I ken some will cause great harm before falling.
“You have me. Let Mary go,” Declan said, facing his uncle. “The wee lass can do you no harm. She has never been declared formally as the heir to these lands.” His only hope was in having Mary sent back to her room and into Emma’s arms.
“The child is mine along with the land and wealth. Contracts have been signed. She is to marry my eldest heir at the start of her fifteenth year. ‘Tis a pity so many wee ones die young,” Glenn taunted as he yanked Mary closer. Ignoring the girl’s sobs, he cried out, “Fill the cups, Ciara. Let us toast my nephew from this life.”
Glaring at the woman who gleefully poured the wine, Declan sought her gaze. When she looked over at him, he was immensely pleased she faltered in her movement. He waited for a misstep from his uncle and found none as the man drank deeply while Ciara held the cup to his mouth.
“You made all verra difficult, nephew. So, in payment, your death comes last.” With his hard gaze on Declan, Glenn stated, “First, any man who will nay swear to me, then Mary, and finally you.”
“None here would make such an oath,” William called from across the hall with his sword in hand. “Though be warned, we will take many with us on the way to the afterlife.”
He should have given the man more trust in life, Declan realized. “You do me proud, William.”
“How touching, even if foolish,” Glenn mocked. Pointing his blade at Mary’s chest, he demanded, “On your knees, Declan.”
Hoping his defiance would be enough to change the aim of the weapon, Declan stood his ground. “Never,” he growled through gritted teeth.
“Then your daughter dies slowly,” Glenn taunted, moving the blade to hover above her arm. “Watch the Draig line bleed then die.”
“If ‘tis truly your goal, you missed one,” Merrick said as he entered the hall. Declan’s head whipped to see his cousin weave through the crowded hall and wind through the tables. Complete and utter despair filled his being. All he could see was the blade at Emma’s throat and a thin line of blood trickling down her neck. Wanting to close his eyes to the horror, he stared as they drew closer. Her hands were bound behind her back, and she stood on the other side of the table away from him.
“Emma!” Mary cried as she struggled against Glenn.
“Hello, sunshine,” Emma said with her eyes sweeping over the child.
Glenn’s laughter filled the hall. “Merrick, ‘tis nay often you surprise me.”
“Such a fine gift deserves reward, Father,” Merrick had the audacity to claim.
The victory waivered in Glenn’s gaze when he said, “Hand over the woman.”
With his arm banded around her waist, Merrick asked, “What is she worth to you? Before you answer, ken that the Draig line continues in her.”
Emma paled as Merrick attempted to barter,
and Declan did not need to turn to know two men now stood behind him. He had felt their approach while Emma had filled his vision. His face contorted as Merrick’s hand covered her womb, and bile rose in his throat at his failure to save her once again.
“You have failed me,” Glenn snarled while turning his glare to Ciara.
“Your son lies to gain wealth. There is no way the foul creature holds life. Declan said as much to me.” With a knowing smile to Emma, she added, “Your former husband shared your failure during one of our many private moments.”
With his eyes darting between Ciara and Merrick, Glenn regained his composure. “No chances can be taken. Either take her life or I will.”
~ ~ ~
Shuddering at Ciara’s venom, Emma forced the unwanted image from her mind. Scarlett O’Hara had it right, and some matters are best left for another day. Though in her head, she saw the back fist that would send Ciara to the floor.
Merrick tightened his grip, and Emma forced her mind to clearly assess the situation. The man hadn’t lied, too few Draig warriors held weapons. Mary was in immediate danger, and Declan was unarmed. Even Meggie and the serving women were tucked in a corner with an armed guard. Somehow Cortland waiting in the wings wasn’t going to be enough to change the tides. For a single breath, she held Declan’s brilliant gaze and caught his despair. Again seeking Mary, she could have wept from the fear on the child’s ashen face.
Glenn waved the sword as he spoke to Declan. “Be glad you have no sons to squabble over your wealth.” Still gripping Mary’s wrist, he turned his brutal gaze to Merrick. “I need the woman dead to ensure my hold on this land. Be content with what I give you. Your share of the wealth will enable you to buy lands or a bride who stands to inherit.”
“Your son bargains with what does nay exist. There is no bairn. ‘Tis one of the many reasons I sent her away. If you think to torment me with her death, think again. Her only role was in bleeding on my sheets.” When Glenn laughed, Declan added, “I wanted Mary gone while you and I finished our game. Only one woman was fool enough to try and so readily convinced I would take her back.”
Merrick’s hand left her belly and reached up to yank her braid, forcing her head to lean back. He whispered in her ear, “I would have spared you this. Say you will have me, and I will get you out of here.”
Tilting her head to the side, she whispered, “Trade me for Mary.”
“What does she ask of you, Merrick?” Glenn asked as he again turned the blade toward Mary.
“Only to accept an offer once made. Since there is no bairn, I will keep her.” He stared at Declan as he taunted, “She should have been mine.”
Declan’s dark snicker filled the hall, and Emma lifted her head to gape at him. With a sneer that contorted his face, he chuckled. “The lass is keen to take promises to heart. If you wish to fully taste her passion, promise her all, and she will listen.”
The cold voice rippled in her ears, and for a second, she believed him. Until she caught the way Declan stood, on the balls of his feet and ready to pounce. In a flash, she recognized his strategy: to knock Glenn off balance with their sick form of family bonding.
Glenn laughed at the comment but shook his head. “She dies, but mayhap I could wait for her blood. If you wish to have her, Merrick, do so. But be quick. My patience is wearing thin.” Pointing the sword briefly at two men, he commanded, “Follow my son and make certain he brings her back to the hall when he has had his fill. If you wish, enjoy the woman before you return.”
“How about this? I give you Emma now, and you restore my birthright before all gathered,” Merrick offered, tightening his grip around her waist, effectively locking her against him. There was a sudden sting from the blade at her neck, and she winced as blood again trickled down her neck. With a bitter voice, he asked, “Or do you value my service so little?”
Glenn sighed in pure exasperation. “You seek a reward that is nay available. Bed the woman. As always, I will find a way to keep you content.” Facing Declan, the man shrugged as if they were having a casual conversation. His face contorted in a wide grin. “Though the hours grows late, mayhap I will let you live long enough to see what is left of your former wife. Merrick may be soft, but my men can be brutal.”
Mary’s sobs were momentarily lost when Merrick harshly sucked in air. The man to Merrick’s right chuckled at the notion. Emma prayed that the man on their left, who had made a grunt of disgust, was someone who could become an ally.
Feeling Merrick’s grin against the side of her head, he said, “Nay. She dies, but quickly at my hand when I am ready.”
“For heaven’s sake,” Glenn grumbled. “Bed her or kill her, but be done with it.”
Emma’s feet stumbled when Merrick whipped her body around to face him. Burying his face against her neck, he whispered, “The two guards are easily dispatched. I will cut your bindings when we reach the top of the stairs. Be ready. Struggle now.”
Pulling against the arms that held her like a vice, she whimpered at the point of the weapon against her lower back, the pretend too real for her comfort. Thoughts raced in mind. What can I do? She knew the real obstacle was Mary’s being held. It kept Declan from attacking and made Merrick hesitant. Biting the inside of her cheeks to hide her grin at the possibility unfolding, Emma knew exactly what to do.
“Mary can break the grip,” Emma whispered and then flinched at the feel of Merrick’s lips against her neck. “I only need to know if he’s holding her from the top or the bottom of her wrist. If she’s free, we have options.”
The chest against hers went rigid for a moment before he sighed against her neck. “You are a stubborn lass who will likely be the death of me.” She could feel his head shift in what she hoped was a study of the situation.
It was the agreement that she tried to focus on as his hands began to move. The tip of the blade still hit her lower back as another hand cupped her bottom and squeezed. Her squirming had lost pretense, and she struggled at the intimate grip that brought laughter from Glenn and too many onlookers.
A harsh chuckle rumbled against her neck while he fondled her backside and pulled her hard against him. “He holds her wrist from the top,” Merrick whispered against the shell of her ear after running his tongue over the skin.
Shuddering at the assault, Emma whispered, “Get Mary’s attention and tell her number two. If it works, she should run away from him. Number two.” As his hands squeezed, she snarled loudly, “Get your hands off of me, you sick bastard.”
Glenn laughed at the comment, and Merrick growled for all to hear, “You will pay for the insult, Emma.”
The blade left her back, and Merrick gripped her braid at the back of her neck. Pulling her head back, he snarled at her and then pressed his lips against hers in a sick, violent imitation of a kiss. Unable to thrash her head away due to his hold, Emma stood still as stone until his lips left hers. She whispered, “You’re pushing it.”
Merrick glared at her and then lifted his head to look over hers. “I would say farewell to my wee cousin,” he called to his father.
“Be quick,” Glenn advised. “I dinna think Declan cares for the way you touch the woman. Mayhap you wish to take her before his eyes?”
Cold laughter left Merrick’s throat before he cleared it with a cough. His next sound was soft yet firm. “Mary, you ken my love for you, sweet cousin. Look at me, sweeting.”
Emma could hear the child’s sobs and feared that they would fail if only because they couldn’t reach her. Emma whispered against his throat, “Keep trying. She’ll run to the left, away from your father. Throw me that way.”
Merrick repeated his message until the sobs faded to sniffles. Why in the world Glenn permitted it was beyond her reasoning. She quickly decided he knew it would drive Declan crazy.
“Aye, there are the lovely green eyes tha
t captured my heart,” Merrick crooned. “I love you, Mary.”
Before Mary could respond, she heard Declan’s roar. “How dare you speak to my daughter! I will see you dead. And get your hands off my wife.”
A thud filled the room, and Declan’s tirade came to a halt. Merrick turned her to face the scene where Mary again cried and Declan was on his knees, holding the side of his head. One of the men behind him grinned like a madman. He must have been the one to strike.
One of Merrick’s hands held her waist, and she could feel the edge of the blade between her tied hands. The gasp that left her lips was real, as the hand on her stomach became a wandering appendage that crept up her ribs, over the cloth bindings, and landed to cover her breast.
Declan’s gaze narrowed on Merrick at her back, who fondled a bit too enthusiastically, and she saw his fire. He was down, but she knew he was far from out of the fight.
“Emma says number two, Mary. Do you hear me, sweet cousin? Merrick called over the hushed chatter in the hall. It was Declan who stilled first, his snarl becoming one of recognition, and his head turned to quickly view the men at his back and Glenn in front of him.
The binding broke open, and Emma gripped it to prevent the leather from falling to the floor. Merrick whispered against her hair, “Your ribs?”
“Tell her again and throw me,” she growled quietly, ignoring his concern.
While his hand cupped her breast, he yelled, “Emma says number two, now, Mary.”
“Enough with the nonsense!” Glenn roared at Merrick.
Unable to keep silent and knowing the moment was at hand, whether or not the child was ready, Emma called out, “Mary! Listen to me. Number two, now!”
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