“Get on with it then. Tell me please.”
“When the lad set out this afternoon, he didn’t ride in the direction of Conall Castle. He rode in the opposite direction. I thought it odd at the time, but when I found this in the room, my suspicions grew. Are these no the colors of Ramsay Kinnaird?”
Donal instantly understood, and his heart nearly stopped for fear of his daughter and allies. “Christ, the bastard’s fooled us! Sound the alarm and gather all the men at once. We must ride for Conall Castle immediately and hope they are no all dead already!”
*
Conall Castle
Once Arran was certain Eoin was retired for the evening and Ramsay and his men had set up camp, he quietly snuck away to the dungeon to continue his interrogation of the runaway.
Arran had stood quietly in the castle’s main entrance, listening to Ramsay’s story, and while it was worrisome, there was an untruth laced in Ramsay’s sad words and somber face that Arran could see—even if Eoin was too besotted with his wife to see anything else clearly.
His brother was a good man, better than himself, but at least Arran knew that sometimes a person’s eyes told more truth than their mouth. Eoin was too trusting of the man their father had called friend, but Arran could see the almost pleased expression in Ramsay’s eyes as he told Eoin his tale of woe.
And he was now more certain than ever that the lad he kept in the dungeon knew something about what was going on.
“It seems that yer master has already attacked one of our allies. Why did ye no tell us that he would attack other territories as well?” Arran twisted the leather and wood contraption he’d laced around the runaway’s arm, popping the lad’s shoulder out of socket.
The runaway screamed in agony before choking out a response. “He’s no my master.”
Arran smiled at the small progress. “Nay? Well, that’s a start at the truth. Let me leave ye with something to encourage ye to tell me the rest.” Arran wrapped the leather around the man’s other arm and quickly twisted the wooden handle until a snapping sound caused the man to nearly pass out from pain.
“I’ll visit ye in the morning, and if ye are nay ready to tell the truth, expect to lose some of yer less necessary bits, piece by piece.”
Even if he had to kill the bastard, the truth of what the lad knew would come out tomorrow.
Chapter 38
I did my best to feign sleep, and while I did drift occasionally, Eoin’s tense arms wrapped around me told me everything his reassuring words hadn’t. Something was definitely wrong, and I suspected he was just waiting until daylight to tell me.
Anxious to hear whatever it was he didn’t want to confide in me, I stirred in his arms at first light, trying to make it seem as if I was just waking up.
“Did ye sleep well, lass?” He didn’t release me from his hold, and I was forced to look up at him awkwardly with my head pressed against his chest to respond.
“Better than you, I think. Something’s wrong. Just tell me.”
He stood then, and I was able to see just how dark the circles under his eyes were. Not only had he not gotten any sleep, something was bothering him terribly.
“Aye, lass. I need to take ye somewhere. Put on yer clothes and join me. I’ll wait for ye out in the hall.”
Once he’d gone I leapt out of the bed, throwing clothes on as quickly as I could manage, desperate to put an end to my wondering. I knew men had arrived late into the night; I’d listened to the commotion from the windowsill and watched as they’d set up camp. With reinforcements here, I couldn’t imagine what had Eoin so upset.
He pulled me down the hall quickly as he yanked me into the stairwell leading to the spell room, an imaginary knife slipped into my side. No way was he about to do what I thought. No way was he about to send me home after everything. He was a damned fool if he thought I was going anywhere.
I jerked free from his grasp as he reached to light the candles around the dark room. “What the hell do you think you are doing, Eoin? There’s nothing for us to do down here. We should be upstairs, preparing for the battle.”
I watched as he pulled out Morna’s ring and sat it on top of the open spell book. “There’s no going to be a battle, lass. All that’s left is a slaughter, and I’ll no let ye stay here to die.”