Trevor held up his hands in appeasement. “We only have a question to ask.”
The barkeep shook his head, almost throwing himself off balance. “No! No questions here.”
By now some of the patrons had begun to take notice of us, and they didn’t appear happy. Some of them scowled angrily while others murmured to each other in alarm, but I recognized their wide eyes and belligerent stances for what they were—fear. That was why the villagers had been laughing so loudly and drinking so deeply. They were trying to convince themselves that all was well, that they had nothing to be afraid of.
But it wasn’t working, and fear and drink were a dangerous combination. They made people do things they wouldn’t otherwise even consider.
I glanced at Anderley, who was watching the others with the same mixture of dread. Our best option was to retreat, but if we did so, we might never discover what happened to Gage. That was a choice I wasn’t willing to make. We had to get one of these people to talk to us, perhaps one of the women. But before I could approach one of them, our decision was made for us.
Two men at the edge of the crowd joined the barkeep in yelling at Trevor, gesturing wildly with their hands. Anderley advanced to help him, and while I was momentarily distracted, another man snuck up on me.
He was surprisingly stealthy for a drunkard. He grabbed hold of my arm and pulled me to him. His breath reeked of ale and onions as he leaned down into my face. “Well, whatdawehavehere? Alasscometehplay.” He slurred his syllables together so that his sentences sounded like one long word. With his thick brogue, they were nearly indecipherable.
“Release me at once,” I ordered, pulling against his grip.
His fingers only bit deeper into the fabric around my arm. “Nay. Ithink’llkeepye.”
I cringed away from his dirt-smeared, stubbled face as he moved closer, presumably to kiss me. I heard a crash from the area of the bar, but I had no time to spare as Onion Breath doubled his efforts.
Fortunately, I was not without defense. The cocking of my pistol’s hammer and the hard press of its barrel against the man’s gut were enough to make him still. A rather comically shocked look suffused his features.
I glared up at him, letting him know I meant business. “Now. You tell your friends to stop, or I’ll bury this bullet in your gut.”
“Stop!” He gulped. “Stop! She’sgottabloomin’gun.”
Several of the patrons halted their shouting and turned toward us, but the principal fighters near the bar were not listening. I didn’t dare take my eyes from Onion Breath, but I could hear the smacks and thumps of a fistfight.
I pressed the pistol deeper into his stomach. “You’d better try harder.”
“Stop!” he shrieked like a girl. “Stop, ye buggerbacks! She’sgonnamuckupmeinnards.”
The sounds of fists smacking against flesh ceased and the room fell relatively silent, but for the shuffling of feet and the sound of a man collapsing against a table.
“Trevor? Anderley?” I tried to see them out of the corner of my eye, but I couldn’t.
“Yes. We’re well,” my brother replied, breathing hard.
I refocused on Onion Breath, narrowing my eyes farther. “Now. Tell me about the men from Edinburgh who were in your village earlier tonight.”
He shook his head.
I jabbed the gun even harder into his flesh, losing patience. I knew it was only a matter of time before one of the men decided I wouldn’t really shoot. Men always seemed to underestimate women.
“Tell me!” I barked. “They attacked a man and dragged him off with them.”
But Onion Breath only shook his head harder. “I dinna ken. I swear.”
“Then who owns the sorrel mare your Edinburgh friends have been borrowing?”
If possible, his eyes widened even farther, but he didn’t speak.
I really didn’t want to kill this man—wasn’t even certain I could—but if I didn’t follow through with my threat, how were we going to get any information out of these people? Somehow I had to make them believe we were more dangerous to them than those Edinburgh thugs; otherwise they would remain closemouthed out of fear.
“How about the rest of you?” I snapped, growing frantic. “Does anyone want to talk? Because I will shoot your friend if I must. Those men from Edinburgh kidnapped my fiancé, and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to get him back.”
I could feel sweat drip from the base of my neck and run down my spine, but I continued to hold the pistol firmly to Onion Breath’s stomach. I offered up a prayer that someone, anyone, would speak up, but they all remained quiet.
“Kiera,” my brother murmured.
I shook my head once to shush him, never removing my gaze from Onion Breath’s. “I guess no one cares for you,” I told him, attempting one last bluff, already knowing I would never be able to pull the trigger, no matter how desperate I felt. “So be it—”