Page 64

“Fire,” she yelled over and over again as she fled from the inn. The moment she stepped outside, sounds from above telling her that her yells had been heard, a hand grasped her arm. Another went over her mouth. And for the second time in as many days, she was dragged away by a man.

Though she attempted to wrench free, his grip was simply too strong. The stench of him nearly made her gag as Maisie was taken away from the fire.

The horses.

Tears sprang to her eyes at the thought of them being harmed. With luck they would be spared. She never ceased in her attempt to get away; it was only the sound of a horse’s neigh behind her that made Maisie realize these men intended to kidnap her.

If she got on that horse, she was dead.

Redoubling her efforts, cursing that she wore only a chemise with her trusted dagger back in her bedchamber, she attempted to bite the hand that clamped her mouth shut, and could not.

“Help me get her up,” the man who held her said to a second man emerging from the shadows. She recognized him immediately as one of MacBrannigan’s men.

Kieran’s caution had been justified.

If they took her, Maisie was dead. Yet there seemed to be no escape.

“Drop her or die.”

It could not be.

Her attacker spun, dragging her with him. Where had Kieran come from?

“Dammit,” he muttered, striding toward them with a look in his eyes she’d seen just once before. Before her attacker could say a word, Kieran ripped her from his arms and, with one thrust of his sword, the man that had held her so tightly lay on the ground. She looked away before seeing more, but there was no doubt he was either dead or would be soon.

The second man had unsheathed his sword but was no match for an angry Kieran. Unlike with MacBrannigan, the swordfight was swift and easily ended in the man’s disarming. Then, like his clansmen, he too lay dead on the ground beneath Kieran’s feet.

He’d not hesitated, and that had been the men’s downfall. That and the anger that seethed through Kieran even now as he looked at her. She ran to him, and Kieran held her with just one arm, his sword arm still at the ready. She did not know if he worried these men might rise from the dead, or that there might be others, but Maisie did not care. Which was when the acrid smell of smoke reminded her that Maisie wasn’t the only one in danger. She tried to break away.

“The stables. Horses.”

Kieran held her tight. “Niall has them.”

Maisie pulled back just enough to see him. “Where? How?”

“I saw flames from the distance. Never rode so fast in all my life. I saw them take you around the back just as Niall tore through the front door, noticing the same. If not for my arrival, he’d be here with you now.”

“Oh, Kieran.” She wanted to kiss him, but he was looking at the men on the ground, clearly wary.

“There could be others,” he said. “Come with me.”

Holding her hand, Kieran took her around to the front of the inn, where everyone seemed to be doing something. Buckets of water were being carried back and forth from the kitchens. Horses were being led away from the stables.

“There is no saving it,” she said, watching as buckets of water were tossed onto the growing flames.

“Nay,” Kieran said, “there is not.”

He never let go of her hand as he made his way all around the inn, searching. He then found Niall, his face black with soot, close to the burning stables, which were now completely engulfed in flame.

“How many?” he asked.

Maisie held her breath waiting for the answer.

“None,” Niall replied. “They are all out safely. She”—he nodded to Maisie—“caught it quickly.”

“What happened?” Kieran asked her.

“I do not know why, as I was preparing for bed, I went to the window and opened the shutters.”