Page 46 of Desire's Ransom
“One he can bend to his will,” Temair agreed.
Sorcha added, “Meanwhile, he’s distractin’ the English knights, sendin’ them on a merry chase after a ghost.”
After a long, pensive silence, Aife meekly suggested, “What if ye tell them the truth, Gray? What if ye tell them who ye are?”
“Nay!” Temair blurted out vehemently. “So long as my brutish father is breathin’, I won’t go back to thetuath. I won’t live under his thumb again. Ever. I just won’t.”
Sorcha gently took her arm. “Nor will we ever make ye. Orlaith made ye a promise that first day, and we mean to keep it. Ye’ll always have a safe home with us here.”
Temair nodded and gave her a grateful half-smile. But she still wasn’t happy. “I won’t let my father hand o’er what rightfully belongs to theclann.” She began pacing again, rubbing the back of her neck. “I need to stop this sham of a marriage and come up with a way to take thetuathaway from him, once and for all.”
“Take it away?” Aife’s brows shot up. “How?”
Sorcha sighed. “Ye’d need an army.”
Temair let out a sigh. Sorcha was right. It was a foolish idea.
“What if we…kept the bridegroom?” Lady Mor asked.
“Kept him?” Aife said. “Why?”
Lady Mor arched a brow. “He can’t very well be married if he can’t be found.”
“Wait.” Temair had another idea, one that made a shiver of excitement travel up her spine. “What if we held him for ransom?”
“Ransom?” Aife exclaimed.
“Aye,” Temair gushed. “The last thing Cormac wants is for the king to find out things have become…messy, right?”
“Right,” said Sorcha.
Temair continued. “So he’ll pay to see the king’s man returned safely.”
“And quietly,” Aife added.
“Right,” said Temair.
Sorcha knitted her brows. “If he pays the ransom, then what?”
Temair smiled in triumph. “We’ll use the money to hire an army o’ mercenaries to take back thetuath.”
“Arealarmy?” Lady Mor said in surprise.
“Aye.”
Temair felt suddenly giddy. They could do this. Orlaith had told her that one day Temair would reclaim her legacy. That time was now. Between Cambeal’s warfare expertise and Domnall and Maelan’s experience as soldiers, they could assemble and lead an army to storm the tower and reclaim what was hers.
Lady Mor and Aife squealed in contagious joy.
But when Temair looked at Sorcha, the woman had gone quiet.
“What is it?” Temair asked.
Sorcha tapped her lip. “Do ye think ’tis necessary to take it by force?”
“Force is the only language my father understands.” Bitterness colored her words.
Sorcha studied her a long while then and finally nodded her head. “’Tis up to ye, Gray. Ye brought de Ware here. Ye should decide his fate. O’Keeffe isyourbirthright, after all.”
