Page 15
“Let me assure you, it burns … but I owe you a debt, and I’m here to repay it.”
Darach grimaced. “It’s Ailsa you should be helping, not me.”
“Aye,” Fern agreed with a snort, making it clear she’d marked his reluctance. “But she and her mentor are heavily guarded night and day inside the broch. If we’re going to get them out, you and I are going to have to work together.”
Darach stared at her. He was still reeling from her appearance, and now she was talking about rescuing Ailsa and Kayla. “How exactly?” he asked finally.
Fern’s lips pursed. “You’ve complicated things,” she replied tartly. “I was biding my time, waiting for the right moment to move … and then you did something stupid. You’ll need a few days to recover from that beating … time we can’t afford to waste.”
Darach stiffened. “I wouldn’t have attempted to escape if I’d known you were here.”
Fern made a hissing noise through her teeth. “Lower your voice.”
He bit down on his tongue and then regretted it. He’d bitten it during the beating, and now blood flooded his mouth again.
Leaning forward, he brought his knees up and wrapped his arms around them as he squinted at Fern’s rough yet shadowed features. The light was poor, yet it was remarkable how good the glamor was. “Where’s the real Idra?”
“Dead. Wrapped up in furs in her alcove. I was waiting for her this afternoon. The cold should stop her corpse from reeking for a few days … but we need to move soon, all the same.”
Darach gritted his teeth, cursing his bruised and battered body.
Fern was right. He’d messed up. In his current state, he’d be more of a hindrance than a help.
“Just give me a day or two to rally a little,” he ground out, hating how weak he sounded. “And I’m yours.”
He caught her brisk nod, the flex of her bullish jaw.
He leaned in further, trying to ignore the pain that lanced down one side of his body. “So, you have a plan, I take it?”
Her lips tugged up into a rueful smile. Of course, his question reminded them both of the challenge she’d thrown at him those moons ago, accusing him of riding after Kayla and her captors without proper preparation.
She’d been wrong.
He’d known what he was doing. Nonetheless, he hadn’t known what he’d find on the night they’d rescued Kayla. He’d been ignorant about the patrol of his brother’s warriors nearby—and of Craeg Aonaranach’s existence.
They’d been outnumbered and outmaneuvered, and it still galled him.
“I do,” she whispered. “A good one.”
“Oh, aye?” The huntress didn’t lack confidence. He’d give her that. “Out with it then.”
She shifted forward slightly, balancing on the balls of her feet as she rocked forward so that their faces drew close. “We both need to get inside the broch … to get close to Ailsa and her mentor,” she replied. “And to do that, you must bend the knee to your brother.”
The iron door reverberated shut behind Ailsa. Turning, she glared at it.
A prisoner once more.
The smells from Niall’s hall still clung to her clothes—peat smoke, venison and wine.
She wanted them off her.
She wanted to forget the hunger for his blood that almost made her agree to his offer. Her belly still churned uneasily in the aftermath.
Heeling off her boots, she padded barefoot over to her sleeping nook. There were two of them in here, just a couple of feet apart, and a low table with stools. A curtained privy sat in one corner, and that was it.
“Ailsa?” Kayla pushed herself upright in her furs. “Did he touch you?”
“No.”
