“Ye’re lucky I daenae leave ye for the wild dogs,” he said.
Eva’s eyes narrowed, filled with defiance, though her wrists ached from the rough rope.
“Ye’ll nae win,” she muttered through clenched teeth, “nae now, nae ever.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Connor sat at the long oak table in the council chamber, his shoulders squared though his mind churned. Michael stood near the wall, uneasy but proud, his hands clasped before him as the councilors stared. Connor cleared his throat and spoke firmly.
“I believe the lad before us is me brother, Michael Davies, lost to us twelve years past and thought dead.”
A low murmur rippled through the chamber.
Fergus leaned forward, his brows drawn tight. “Ye’re sayin’ the bairn is standin’ here in the flesh?” another councilor muttered.
Voices overlapped as disbelief, shock, and suspicion filled the air, some calling it madness and others whispering of miracles.
Connor raised his hand, but the noise swelled before it slowly ebbed. He looked at Michael, who shifted his weight, eyesdarting as the men argued his existence like a problem to be solved.
“He has the mark. Show them, Michael,” Connor said.
Michael stood up and showed the birthmark on his neck. The council gasped.
“He's been in McKay lands all this time. Taken by Jack Welsh and raised as his own. It is possible that it was Jack who killed our maither and faither and then proceeded to take Michael.”
“Jack Welsh? But why?” Fergus asked.
The group groaned and argued in confusion to this news.
Connor listened, his patience thinning with every heartbeat. He opened his mouth to speak again when the doors burst open with a sharp crack.
Boots pounded across the stone floor, and all heads turned.
Amelie stumbled into the chamber, her hair loose and her face pale with terror. A trickle of blood ran down her cheek from her head.
“Me Laird!” she cried, clutching her chest as she fought for breath.
Connor was on his feet in an instant, dread flooding him before she even spoke the words.
“Eva, Eva’s been taken,” Amelie gasped, “A man with guards took her from the village.”
The room erupted anew, but Connor heard nothing beyond the roar in his ears.
“Did this man say his name?” Connor said as he grabbed his sword belt from the table and buckled it on.
“Aye, he said his name is Jack Welsh,” Amelie said.
Michael stepped forward sharply. “That’s nae possible,” he said, his voice strained. “Me faither wouldnae do such a thing, nae ever.”
Connor was already moving and giving orders as he strode toward the door.
“David!” he bellowed, not breaking his stride. “Get the men armed and saddled, now!”
Michael hurried after him, his long legs barely keeping pace. “I’m comin’ with ye,” Michael insisted. “I’ll see it with me own eyes for I daenae think it's him.”
Connor spun on him briefly, fire blazing in his gaze. “Then pray ye’re right, brother,” he snapped, “for if he’s touched her, I’ll show him nay mercy.”
Michael swallowed hard but nodded, his resolve firm despite the fear flickering in his eyes. Together they burst into the corridor, boots echoing like thunder as they made their way down to the courtyard.
