Page 47 of Desire's Ransom
Temair thought of it asallof their birthright. As far as she was concerned, the woodkerns were herclann. Though she’d never openly stated it, she’d always known in her heart that when she regained her title, she’d bring her band of outlaws with her to live inTuath O’Keeffe.
“So what will we tell the English knights?” Aife asked.
“A lie,” Temair said. “We need them to deliver the ransom message.”
“And what will ye do with Sir Ryland?” Lady Mor asked.
Temair shrugged. That was the least of her worries. For the moment, all she had to decide was how much he was worth.
Ryland wasn’t born yesterday. By their exaggerated air of nonchalance, he could tell the women were up to something the instant they emerged from the strange vine-covered cave.
What it was, he couldn’t tell. But something was afoot.
At the moment, he couldn’t do much about it. The knights were at the mercy of the woodkerns. They’d never be able to find their way out of this knot of a forest alone. But it was a calculated risk he’d taken to get the outlaws’ assistance.
Indeed, while the women had been chatting about…whatever it was they were chatting about…the woodkerns had discussed a number of possible ideas about where his missing bride could be. They clearly knew the lay of the land. And to his relief, not once did they try to suggest she might have been stolen by faerie folk.
Gray gave him an elusive smile. “Aife has indeed brought news about your bride.”
“News? What news?” Ryland eagerly demanded.
“Do ye mind?” she asked, sidling past him and breaking his concentration, indicating her hounds. “They haven’t been watered yet.”
He released the dogs, and they trotted off to her. She ushered them away, chaining them to a tree.
“Good news, I hope?” he called out. He hoped to locate the missing lady and return to the keep before it got dark.
“Aye,” she said. “It seems your bride didn’t leave the keep after all.”
“What?”
His knights grumbled in discontent, and he held his hand up for quiet.
The older woman, Sorcha, shook her head. “Curious how often a man searches far afield for what’s right under his nose.”
There was an odd glimmer in her eyes, as if she were speaking about something else. But he was too aggravated over the time he’d already wasted to try to decipher her meaning.
“So all this has been for nothing?” Warin complained, giving Ryland a smug look.
Ryland didn’t completely agree. He’d gotten to see the lovely lady outlaw with the shimmering gray eyes again.
But aye, it was for nothing. His destiny and his bride—the woman with whom he was about to spend all the rest of his life—was waiting for him miles away at the castle.
“Thank you for the news.” He dug in his satchel. The woodkerns may not have led him to his betrothed. But they had assisted him and saved him countless more hours of searching.
“That won’t be necessary,” Gray said. “I’ll have two of the men lead you back.” She gave a nod of confirmation to the woodkerns. “Nock? Mark?”
If he’d been listening closer, he might have taken notice of the strange names. He might have realized they weren’t names, but commands. But he was too busy being a gentleman.
“I’m a man of honor,” he insisted. “I told you I’d pay you for your help. You’ve given it to me.” He gave her a lopsided grin and a wink as he held out a small velvet bag of silver. “You can buy your hounds a proper meal.”
But Gray didn’t smile at the jest. In fact, she looked tense. And guilty as hell. A sudden foreboding settled over him like a shadow.
Then she changed everything with a single command. “Draw.”
Before any of his knights could unsheathe, the outlaws turned on them with loaded and drawn bows.
