Faerie Fate (17 page)

“O’Brien?” Riordan
asked the most obvious question, though he thought it unlikely. Any O’Brien
raiding party would have to cross the majority of eastern Connaught to reach
Ailfenn. He didn’t dare voice his next thought. Riordan, along with every man
at the encampment, had seen Conchobhar’s lust for Becca. Surely, the king would
not be foolish enough to test the MacDermot’s mettle.

Niall shook his
head. “I dinnit think
’
twas planned. I think the cailín surprised some
cattle thieves. They took her not knowing who she is.” Both Ciaran and Riordan
protested but Niall held up a hand to silence them. “She dinnit carry a weapon,
else they would not have taken her. The brave beastie took a slash from a dirk
to his side.
’
Tis a wonder he made it home. At least one will be marked
by Bhruic’s teeth, and if they dinnit knock her out immediately, they’ll bear
hers as well.”

Ciaran nodded his
head, considering. Niall was right. He would dispatch riders to every corner to
search for a man mauled by a dog, along with one scratched by a woman. He
smiled grimly.

Ciaran and Niall
discussed the situation. They reasoned the cowards could not travel very fast
nor could they get far with an injured woman. Or one held against her will. The
clann would find the miscreants and Becca within the fortnight, and when they
did, Ciaran’s retribution would be fast and furious. As soon as Becca was
found, he would wed her, bed her, and that would be the end of it.

****

“How did this happen?”
the female accused.

The male was silent.
He had not anticipated the interference of these oafish fools.

“Ah.” She
interrupted his reverie, aptly reading his mind. “And you were the one who
called them fools. Now, who is the fool?” She sneered.

“’Tis not over yet,”
he grumbled.

“Why do you delay
the inevitable?” a second, deeply masculine voice interjected.

“You promised the
time until
Lughnasadh
,” the first male insisted.

“They must be bound
and the Covenant consummated by the end of that day,” the second intoned.

“Or what?”

Three breaths were
drawn in sharply.

“How is this?” the
second male barked.

“The veil is thin,
Mac Lir,” the woman complained.

“Who the bloody hell
are you, and why do you keep mucking about in my life?” Becca demanded.

“She should go
back,” the second man decreed.

“No!” three voices
cried in unison.

“’Til Lughnasadh,
then!” the second pronounced.

Silence.

“Please?” Becca
whispered.

“Hush, Child,” the
woman hissed. “Lest he hear you.”

Silence came,
followed by darkness.

She wanted to cry,
or scream, or hit someone but there was no one to hit and she knew those others
had gone so there would be no one to hear her cries. “Okay,” she defied the
dark. “You have really pissed me off now. I will not go back.” She stamped a
foot she couldn’t feel. “I will stay here. Ciaran and I will be together. You
can’t make me go back.”

“Empty threats,
Child of the Mortals,” the second male voice growled at her.

Becca shivered. Then
she got really angry at her own fear and at these unseen voices that kept
whispering nonsense to her. “Empty threats?” she snarled with more bravado than
she felt. “We’ll just see about that now, won’t we?”

The woman smiled.
The mortal had been right. The Child would always have the last word.

Chapter Thirteen

Every morning, men
rode out from Caisel Ailfenn to search. Each day, they hoped one of them would
find Becca or hear news of her whereabouts. Each night, they returned to the
great hall with heavy hearts. As time passed with no sign of her, Ciaran grew
more morose. Niall and Riordan often rode out together and shared their worry.
Given Ciaran’s temper, he would likely kill with his bare hands the man who’d
taken Becca, especially since his wound kept him from joining the search.

Siobhan insisted
that Ciaran take care of himself and she dutiful checked his healing wound and
changed the bandages. She clucked about like a mother hen, until he ate
something at each meal. His temper was a powder keg, and she was the only one
who dared confront him.

Ciaran stalked
through the keep, often standing on the walls. With a hand shading his eyes, he
watched the distant hills. His feelings about Becca’s disappearance waffled
from hour to hour. One moment he’d swear she’d been taken from him, the next
that she’d run away. He snarled at people, an angry wolf with his ruff up.
Siobhan, finally reaching even her limit, ordered Niall and Riordan to get him
roaring drunk. The castle would be able to relax for a few hours at least.

Taidhg, once her
faithful guard, felt responsible for Becca’s welfare. The night of her
disappearance, he went to Ciaran and sank to one knee in front of his chief.
Wincing at the pain radiating off Ciaran, Taidhg made his vow. “I will bring
her home to you,
Taoiseac
,” he pledged. “On my life, I will see her safe
again.”

At dawn the next
morning, he began his search at the stream where the trail had grown cold.
Working his way upstream, in case one of the O’Neill had sneaked down from the
north, he found no trace of the three horses and riders. At each croft and hut,
he stopped to ask about two men and a woman. No one had seen or heard a thing.

Finally giving up,
he turned his search to the south until he eventually found a shepherd boy who
remembered seeing a campfire. The boy claimed he crept up on the camp to see
who it was. He remembered two scrawny bays and a magnificent black tied to a
picket line. Two men, broad and thick with reddish hair and beards, sat at the
fire talking. The boy had been unable to hear what they’d said. He saw no
woman, but he did remember seeing a bundle trussed up with rope not far from
the fire.

Taidhg grimaced at
the description, praying his mistress was still alive. The description fit any
number of rogues running about the countryside, but Taidhg had a sudden hunch.
Two thick-bodied men with red hair sounded all too familiar. Because they were
headed in the right direction, he guessed they might be the O’Flinn brothers.

When the boy showed
Taidhg where the men had camped, he pulled off the silver clasp holding his
cloak and gave it to the boy in thanks. Thrilled with his prize, the youngster
skipped off back to his herd.

The soldier scouted
the campsite. Three horses had indeed been staked there. Taidhg also found sign
of three different pairs of boots. That was the first hopeful sign he’d had. He
would spend the night here and proceed to Ballinfaire the next day. At the
O’Flinns’ keep, he’d learn whatever he could about Becca’s whereabouts, and
then he would ride hard for Ailfenn to fetch Ciaran.

****

The first two days
of her captivity were absolute torture for Becca. She came to once, only to
find herself hanging upside down and bouncing along Arien’s side. Blessedly,
the darkness reclaimed her almost immediately. That night, she awoke, bound
hand and foot with a nasty rag stuffed in her mouth as a gag. She fought down
the vicious nausea and concentrated on stopping the ringing in her head. Becca
spied on them by opening her eyes to bare slits so Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum
would think she was still unconscious.

The oldest one was called
Darroch, and the younger was Luthais. Luthais was slightly smaller than his
brother, but since both probably weighed over 250 pounds, that didn’t say much.
They were dirty, stank, and thought nothing of standing to relieve themselves
into the fire. If these two were indeed the
now
Becca’s brothers, this
Becca pitied her other self. She’d learned enough from their conversation to
know they’d had something to do with the beating her body received just before
Ciaran found her. She was, however, confused by the distance involved. The
brothers spoke of leaving Becca’s body near Balleymough, but Ciaran had found
her not far from Ailfenn, nearly three days’ ride away.

Exhausted and
hungry, Becca finally let the darkness claim her again. She would find some way
to escape and make her way back to Ciaran, or she’d think of a way to get a
message to him so he’d come rescue her.

The next morning and
every morning thereafter when she awoke, her first thought was of Ciaran.
I’m
alive,
she’d whisper to the heavens.
I’m alive and I love you, Ciaran.

She spent two more
days hanging upside down over her saddle before the Tweedle brothers let her
sit astride Arien. She figured they were close enough to their destination they
no longer feared discovery by someone loyal to Ciaran. Late on the third day,
Becca caught sight of what had been her alter ego’s home. The place was dismal.
Squalid huts huddled together beneath the grimy stone walls of the keep. Dirty
faces stared at her as the three rode by. No guard in crisp uniform greeted
their arrival. Skinny pigs and skinnier dogs milled about the courtyard.

Luthais pulled her
off Arien and unceremoniously slung her over his shoulder as he slouched into
the hall. The rancid air reeked with the smell of rotten food and human waste.
The big lug carried her upstairs and dumped her into a dingy little room,
pulling the heavy door shut behind him. A stout crossbar dropped into place
with a grating thud. She wasn’t going anywhere for a while.

Only the moonlight
shining in through a high window lit the room. She noticed the bed was little
more than a cot covered with a thin blanket and a small bench stood beside the
empty hearth. In another corner of the room, there was a bucket. Becca guessed
what it was for and at that moment, she didn’t care if it was only one step
above a bedpan, she needed to use it. She hoped someone would be around in the
morning to empty it.

After taking care of
business, she tried the door just to be sure. It didn’t budge. Becca really
needed more light to see what she was doing. That promising to be scarce until
morning, she gave up and curled up on the cot with the meager blanket wrapped
around her. The stones radiated a damp chill, and Becca was glad she still had
her trews on beneath her skirt. The only familiarity they’d shown her were the
clouts they periodically rained down on her head and shoulders to keep her in
line. As she drifted off to sleep, she sought to touch Ciaran with her mind. “I
love you,” she told the darkness. “And I keep your heart within mine, now and
forever.” She could only hope she had reached him somehow.

****

Down in the great
hall, the brothers asked about their father. The steward told them he was in
the village, and they knew what that meant. He’d taken a woman to tup and would
be back eventually. They called for mugs of ale and sat down in the great hall
to await his arrival.

Just before
midnight, the front doors banged open and Garbhan O’Flinn stomped into the
great hall. He was an older, meaner version of the brothers. The two younger
O’Flinns had gotten drunk waiting for their father. They’d nodded off, heads
pillowed on the grimy table while their snores echoed off the rafters.

The steward crept
forward, and in a dry, croaking whisper, told the O’Flinn about the bundle his
sons had dragged home. He watched his master’s face turn a mottled shade of
burgundy, and scurried off before feeling O’Flinn’s fist.

“An’ what do you
mean dragging that bit o’ fluff back here?” O’Flinn roared.

Startled, both men
fell off their respective benches onto the floor. “Yee don’ understand, Da,”
Darroch pleaded. “
’
Tis where we found her and how
.
”

His father struck
him across the mouth before he could finish. “She’s nothin’ but bad luck, that
one. I want her outta my keep.”

Darroch crabbed away
far enough so his father’s long arm couldn’t reach him again. “But, Da, she was
ridin’ one of the MacDermot’s finest horses. On MacDermot land. She even told
us the MacDermot would give us a reward if we returned her.”

That stopped Garbhan
dead in his tracks. “The MacDermot?” he roared. “I offered her to him ten years
ago, and he turned her down without so much as a by your leave. Him turnin’ her
down caused all the rest to look down their noses at us. Now, he thinks to have
her without any arrangement?” The man stormed around the hall kicking dogs and
sleeping men out of his way.

The brothers cringed, waiting for his fit of temper
to simmer down.

“How dare she not
die?” he raged. “How dare she crawl to the MacDermot and bring shame upon this
house?” The madder he got, the more outrageous his accusations against Becca.
Before the old man was done, he’d conjured up an elaborate plot whereby the
MacDermot had secretly seduced her and lured her away, all to bring shame upon
the O’Flinn sept.

Grabhan stormed up
the stairs and tossed aside the crossbar on the door to Becca’s prison. He
threw open the door, rushing inside. Becca rolled off the bed and cowered
beneath it, hoping the dark would hide her from the raving lunatic standing
just inside the doorway.

“Where are you, you
bitseach?
”
the man roared, vainly trying to see in the dark.

Becca held her
breath. It didn’t matter what language the man spoke, Becca knew what the word
meant. She choked back a cry as a leather strap sang through the air and
battered the cot above her.

****

Ciaran sat bolt
upright in bed. Wherever she was, Becca feared for her life. He was as certain
of that fact as he was of his name. A cold, dark anger squeezed an iron fist
around his heart. If anything happened to her, he would spend the rest of his
days hunting down the man who had hurt her.

****

“Da? Da!” Luthais
cried. “Yee’ll kill her, and then where will we be? Da, I’m tellin’ yee. The
MacDermot will pay to get her back. Cattle. Horses. Gold, even.”

The old man stopped
swinging his arm and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Aye, Luthais. Methinks you
might have the right of it. Ridin’ a good horse, was she? And dressed fine?” he
mused.

The younger man led
him out of the room. He hadn’t stopped his father out of any pity for his
sister. Pure and simple greed made him intervene. Something in Becca’s tone of
voice when they’d taken her convinced him a great reward could be had for
returning her to the MacDermot.

The door closed, and
she heard the crossbar being shoved back into place. Becca reached up and
pulled the blanket off the bed, wrapped it around her, and rocked back and
forth fighting tears. She had never been so scared in her life. Not lying in
the cold and dark on the side of that Colorado mountain, not standing
back-to-back with Taidhg and fighting two O’Briens at once—not even when she
first saw Ciaran lying on that pallet looking like death itself. These men held
her fate in their hands, and there wasn’t a blasted thing she could do about
it. If they killed her, no one would ever know. What would become of Ciaran
then?

****

Taidhg rode into
Ballinfaire just after sundown, but he saw nothing fair about this forsaken
place. A poor excuse for a public house squatted on the outskirts of the
village. Taidhg hadn’t bathed or shaved since beginning his quest for Becca, so
he fit right in with the rest of the denizens.

It took a couple of
days to get the information he sought. Two men-at-arms, beard-deep in their
ale, spoke of the cailín locked away in the keep. Taidhg bought them a round
and expressed his interest. One man looked around to see who might be
listening, then leaned forward. In a conspiratorial whisper, he told Taidhg all
about the poor cailín.

“
’
Twas just
before
Albun Eiler
,” the man said. “The O’Flinn was in a right ferocious
rage. Seems the last in a long line had turned down his daughter’s hand. He
beat the cailín senseless, then bade his misbegotten sons to take her out and
leave her. Told ’em to finish the job he’d started.” He swallowed most of his
cup in one swig, wiped a grimy hand across his mouth, and continued. “When the
brothers came back, they bragged
’
twasn’t an inch of her body
’
twasn’t
bloody and bruised. They’d stripped her to make sure.” He took another sip,
swilling the ale around in his mouth before swallowing. “Then about a sennight
ago, the brothers come riding hard leading a fine black horse with the cailín
on it. Luthais spirits her into the castle and locks her in a room on the
second floor.”

The man finished his
brew and looked at Taidhg expectantly. Taidhg obliged him by ordering another
round for both men. After the scrawny serving maid deposited the drinks and
scurried off, the man continued. “There was a fair uproar when the O’Flinn
returned that night. Swore she was bad luck, and the sons shoulda’ made sure she
stayed dead.”