He moved around the chamber, collecting any stray weapons, she realized, when he stowed them about his person. Would he overlook any? Unlikely, since this was his space and he knew it well.
He shot her one last warning look before he went out, taking the weapons with him. A measure of relief flooded through Saerla, along with a terrible weight of dread.
“Curse ye, Rory MacLeod,” she whispered. “Curse ye to your bones.”
Chapter Ten
“Iwant tosee my sister! At once!”
Rory looked up from his place on the settle when the door of his study crashed open. He’d been forced to take refuge here, since his own bedchamber had turned into a prison, and tried to find some comfort, knowing he must spend the night. There was no way to make his back stop paining him on the hard settle. He wanted his bed and had told himself for the past hour that mattered little. For he wanted to defeat MacBeith far more.
And now he found himself beset by yet another of MacBeith’s daughters. By God, they were no end of trouble and caused more grief than they were worth.
Leith’s woman, Rhian, stood framed in the doorway facing him. Stiff in every limb, white of face and fiery of eye, she appeared enraged enough to strike him down. No one on earth displayed anger like a redhead. At the moment her very hair seemed to bristle around her.
Rory got to his feet. He would not like to admit it, but the woman possessed a power of her own. Like a mother standing in defense of her offspring. For just an instant, he feared for his life.
“Saerla. My sister, Saerla. You ha’ her here somewhere.”
“I do.” Undeniable. The word would be all over MacLeod by now. He felt surprised it had taken Rhian this long to descend upon him.
“I will see her. At once!”
Rory wondered how Iain MacBeith had gone about raising these daughters of his. With insufficient discipline, quite evidently. They thought they could do what they chose, state what they desired, and in general behave like men.
They did not look like men, though. He remembered the small female perched on his bed, grubby and clad in leather armor, who for all that possessed a delicate beauty and a quite obvious strength.
And this woman—no one could deny she was a lush beauty. No wonder Leith had succumbed.
As if thinking his cousin’s name had summoned him, Leith materialized behind Rhian and seized her by the shoulders.
“Now, Rhian, let us discuss this calmly.”
“Calm? If he harms a hair on her head, I swear I will kill him.”
In that moment, Rory believed her.
So must Leith, for he wrapped his good arm around Rhian from behind and said, “Yelling at him will do no good.”
Leith had the right of that. Rory detested being bawled at, especially by a woman.
“Come in and shut the door,” he told Rhian, “unless ye wish to raise the whole keep.”
Drawing away from Leith, she stalked in like a wildcat on the prowl. Rory speculated as to whether she had a weapon about her person. How swiftly she might leap for his throat.
“Your sister has been taken captive, aye,” he told her sternly. “Seized on the field during battle. She is here in the keep, perfectly safe.”
“Where?” Rhian had eyes the color of sapphires. At the moment, they looked equally as hard. “Where in this keep?”
Rory hesitated. Did he really want her making a scene pounding on the door of his chamber? Perhaps murdering the guard he had stationed there?
Leith crossed his arms over his chest. Even that limited movement revealed that his right arm, the one that had taken the injury, still did not serve him altogether well.
Rory felt a flash of disquiet. Saerla MacBeith was right. Things had not been going easily for him during this campaign.
He made a sweeping gesture toward the settle. “Please, Mistress Rhian, sit down.”
“Not until ye answer my question. Where are ye holding my sister? If ye ha’ her in some squalid pen—” Disturbingly, tears suddenly flooded Mistress Rhian’s blue eyes.
