Page 34 of Desire's Ransom
Chapter 10
Dawn painted the topmost stones of the tower house, the spot where the older O’Keeffe daughter had apparently fallen to her death.
Ryland drew his brows together. He wondered if the rumors were true, that his bride-to-be had murdered her sister.
As he and his men shouldered their packs and set out on foot toward the trees, he took a bracing breath. If ever there was an inauspicious beginning to a marriage, this was it.
He couldn’t blame the lass for running off. As a ruler, Cormac was abusive. As a father, he was likely even more vicious and demanding. The idea of submitting to a foreign bridegroom who might well be a harsher master than her father was probably horrifying. It was reason enough for Temair to flee and take her chances in the wilds.
The fact that Cormac practically admitted he beat his own daughter set Ryland’s teeth on edge. Nothing was more abhorrent to him and contrary to his knightly vows than a man who preyed on those less powerful than himself.
When they found the lass, Ryland would have to convince her that he was nothing like her father, that he meant her no harm. To his relief, it sounded like Temair was nothing like her father either. She shared neither his pasty flesh nor orange hair. Hopefully, she didn’t share his volatile temper.
“Where do we start?” Godwin asked.
“She can’t have gone far,” Ryland said. At least, he hoped not. The Irish forest was like a maze. It would be easy to get lost. He’d already decided it would be best if they didn’t split up to search for her.
“’Tis a shame O’Keeffe keeps no hounds,” Osgood said.
Ryland agreed. A keen-nosed hound would have been useful.
Warin nodded toward the trees. “A traveler would normally stay close to the main road.”
“Not if the traveler didn’t want to be found,” Laurence said.
Ryland furrowed his brows. Who knew this forest? Who knew the places a fugitive might hide? Who might have stumbled across a lass lost in the woods in the last three days?
The woodkerns.
They probably noticed every time a new sparrow flitted through the boughs. They would know if a stranger had entered the wood. He’d find the outlaws and offer them a reward for information about a chieftain’s daughter wandering among the fern.
Though he was loath to admit it, the possibility of encountering one particular outlaw—the beautiful, gray-eyed lass—stirred Ryland’s blood in disturbing ways. As wrong as it was, his pulse quickened at the thought of matching wits with her again.
They searched for hours along the main road. They looked for footprints, scraps of cloth, ashes of a fire. There was no evidence whatsoever of a runaway bride.
At mid-day, they stopped for cheese, oatcakes, smoked trout, and ale, adding a few wild strawberries that grew along a roadside spring.
By late afternoon, they drew near to the narrows before the clearing where they’d been waylaid by the woodkerns. There was no assurance the outlaws would be there today, but it was likely they preferred to work in familiar surroundings.
“We’ll question the woodkerns,” he announced.
There was an outcry over that.
“Are you mad, m’lord?” Warin blinked in disbelief.
Ryland shook his head. “We’ve been searching all day, and we’re no closer to finding her.”
“The longer she’s lost, the more likely…” Osgood didn’t want to finish the sentence, but they all knew a woman alone in the woods was at terrible risk. Every hour counted.
Warin grimaced. “There has to be another way.”
“This is really our best chance,” Ryland said.
“Our best chance to be beggared,” Warin muttered.
“Sir Ryland has a point,” Godwin volunteered. “No one knows the forest better.”
“That may be.” Warin arched an indignant brow. “But why would a pack of common thieves help us?”
