Held still she could only watch fearfully as her husband, his uncle and the surviving men were tethered to the trees like animals and her two little girls were corralled into place.
The large man who held her firmly in place scowled in the direction of her husband, “So what say ye, Quainn, be ye man enough tay loose yerself frae yer bonds and free yer delectable wife?” As the unknown man spoke he idly traced lines on her body with the very tip of the knife he held.
Pulling her further into his grasp the man sliced easily through the soft, worn fabric of the gown she was traveling in.
Fergus growled in anger as Farrell fought his bonds. Fergus’ voice husky as he growled, “Fool.” He glared at the man, his glance traveling between the man and his still struggling nephew, “Ye have nay idea the demon ye have released. Leave us and run now whilst ye can. If yer here when he frees himself ye be a dead man.”
The dark man gripped her shoulders in a tight hold, “Be at peace, Quainn. In my care yer young filly here be safe frae harm, “Despite his words he trailed the knife further into the split bodice of Ebha’s gown, “I cannae guarantee what will befall her once we have made our destination.”
The branch that refused to let go of it’s grip of her husband groaned as he strained forwards, the rope at his wrists cutting deep, “Ye will regret yer actions this day.”
Unconsciously straining towards her husband in return she glanced back at her captor, meeting his eyes, “I am nay a woman tay be trifled with ye foolish man. I will fight ye each step.” To punctuate her words she continued to try to dislodge herself from his grasp.
He only held onto her tighter, “Woman desist in yer foolish fighting. Ye cannae break my hold.” He forced her face round till she no longer faced her husband but instead looked upon her two crying little girls, “if ye continue I will be forced tay spill innocent blood. But it will be yer soul it stains.”
Stilling her struggles she sighed in defeat. She would not risk any harm befalling the two terrified little girls. And they knew it. Her captor pulled her back again, his grip painful as he guided her to her feet.
Tears filled her eyes as Farrell continued his efforts to free himself, “If ye harm a single hair upon the head of my lady then hell will seem like a treat tay ye.”