Chapter Fifteen
Aedan cast another look toward his sister and Abigail and again, the two women were somber, both lost in their meals, not full of chatter like they usually were.
Something was wrong.
He took a sip of mead and leaned toward Abigail seated next to him; she smiled up at him, but the gesture didn’t fill her eyes. “What’s troubling ye, lass?”
She fidgeted with the sleeve of her gown. “Nothing. Why would anything be wrong?”
He raised his brows. “Tonight, something seems amiss.”
She laughed, the sound hollow and a spike of fear entered his gut. “Nothing. I assure you.”
“Abigail, I want the truth. Now.” She paled a little, meeting Gwen’s gaze before slumping back in her chair. “I think it is time that I return home. I found out today that it’s possible.”
The impact to his gut felt like a sword had sliced through his innards. “What?” He glared at Gwen, wanting to reach across and murder her.
“The residual magic has worn off,” Abigail whispered, the breath of her words tickling his ear and making him miss her already. “Gwen thinks it’ll be safe for me to return to my time.”
He didn’t want her going anywhere. “And if you end up in some other time, alone, vulnerable, what then? I’ll never know if ye made it home safely or not.” He paused, fisting his hands to stop their shaking. “Ye cannot go. I forbid it.”
Abigail gaped at him, and he looked away. Perhaps if he ignored her, this whole nightmare of her leaving would disappear, too.
“I beg your pardon. You don’t have the right to forbid me from this. It isn’t your choice, Aedan.”
“’Tis my choice, and I forbid my sister to allow ye to leave.” His voice sounded high, not the even-tempered tone he usually spoke with. He cleared his throat. “For the time being, at least.”
“No.”
“No?” He narrowed his eyes, not liking the determination in her tone. She was stubborn, probably more stubborn than he was. It wasn’t a good mix.
“No,” she repeated, lifting her chin. “I have to go sooner or later and tomorrow is no different than any other day.”
Her words cut him to the quick. He couldn’t let her go. Just the thought of her no longer within his castle walls, warming his bed, smiling at him whenever their paths crossed, left a hollow crevice in his soul.
“Aedan,” she said, placing her hand on his arm. “You knew I’d go eventually.”
He stared straight ahead, not focusing on anything at all. “I don’t want ye to leave.” And that was the truth. Hell, he never wanted her to leave. Over the last two weeks that she’d graced his halls he’d come to admire her inner strength, marvel at her courage, and love her heart, when she wasn’t annoying him, of course.
Tears welled in her eyes, and his panic increased. “Abigail, lass, is there something more yer not telling me? Surely, by now, ye know ye can trust me.”
She bit her bottom lip and sniffed. She looked out toward the trestle tables, her face paling. Aedan followed her line of vision and locked gazes with Rory Kirk, the bastard playing with a dirk in his hand, his face one of pure hate.
A chill swept across his spine, and he swore. “Abigail, look at me. Did something happen today that yer scared to tell me? Do not try and protect me by staying silent. Ye best explain now and not later when it’s too late for me to help ye.”
She shook her head and stood. “Truly Aedan I’m fine, just tired. I’m retiring for the night. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He watched her leave and then looked to make sure Rory Kirk stayed where he was seated. The bastard followed Abigail’s progress, but didn’t rise. He turned to his right and said to Ben, “I think Rory Kirk has threatened Abigail in some way. She’s afraid of him.”
His friend leaned forward on the table with a relaxed air that was anything but. Beneath his benign visage, Aedan knew the man was on full alert, as was he.
“And you think this is why she’s wanting to return home?”
“You know?”
Ben shrugged, meeting his gaze. “Gwen told me this afternoon that Abigail had asked to return home.”
“Well, that explains why they’re quiet tonight.” He paused. “Why did ye not tell me? I’ve been wondering what’s wrong.” Aedan finished his drink, slamming the goblet down on the wooden table.
“When I spoke to her today, she said not to. That she’d find the right time to tell ye.”
“It doesn’t make sense. And it seems too coincidental that the moment Clan Kirk arrives, Abigail wishes to leave. Especially with how Rory thinks she’s his lost betrothed.”
“Aye, ye have the right of it. I was watching the clan today. They’re trouble, Aedan. I wouldn’t turn my back on them while they’re here. Rory Kirk is as slippery as an eel.”
Aedan swore. “I’m certain he’s threatened Abigail, scared her enough that’s she’s running.”
“Perhaps the Laird of MacLeod is also worn out and needs an early night.”
“Mayhap you’re correct.” He stood. “Watch him and don’t let him out of yer sight. Also, tell Braxton to sleep outside Gwen’s door tonight. I want her safety ensured as well.”
“Consider it done,” Ben replied, leaning back in his chair, as if nothing was amiss.
Aedan walked from the room and headed upstairs to where he could keep Abigail in his sight, where she was safe.
...
He entered her room via the tapestry, heading for the door to ensure she’d locked it.
“What are you doing here?” She sat up in bed, her hands clutching the sheet to her chest.
He came to stand at the end of the bed, leaning against one wooden post. She looked so vulnerable and scared. He wanted to pull her into his arms, hold her, revel in her for as long as he could. Her hair was unbound and tumbled about her shoulders, pulling his gaze to her slender, beautiful neck. “What did Rory Kirk say to ye, lass? I know he’s threatened ye in some way, and I need to know how.”
“I can’t. He said if I said anything, he’d hurt Gwen. I can’t put her safety at risk.”
“Gwen is being watched by the man who loves her. She’ll be safe, I promise ye. Now tell me, please.”
Tears slid down her cheek, and his resolve not to touch her until she’d explained what was going on crumbled. He walked around the bed and sat beside her, pulling her into his embrace. Her hands came about his back and held him. Nothing in his life felt as right as this, Abigail beside him, trusting him.
“Are you sure Gwen’s safety can be ensured? I couldn’t live with myself if anything happened to her.”
“I promise. She’s well cared for.” He remained silent, knowing she’d tell him when she was ready.
“Rory Kirk did threaten me. He found me alone today and continued to hound me, insisted I am his missing fiancée. He’s steadfast that I’m his betrothed. It’s ludicrous. He wouldn’t listen when I explained, again, I’m not who he thinks I am.”
“What was his threat?” Rage boiled up in his blood, and Aedan kept his focus on the mantle across the room, the flames licking the wood as hot and wild as his temper. He’d spoken to the troublesome laird after breaking his fast. Warned him to cease his insistence that Abigail was his missing Coira lass. That the man had stood before him, lying to him that he’d already let the similarities between the two women go, made his temper soar.
“There were two,” she muffled against his chest. “The first one was to rape me. The second was against Gwen. He said she’d have an ‘accident’ while out riding. He mentioned her falling and breaking her neck.”
Aedan swallowed, unsure if speech was possible. His grip tightened around Abigail. Clan Kirk would pay for such threats, as the O’Cains would. He thought back to today’s games, having thought all his guests were enjoying his home and hospitality.
How wrong had he been? All the while, the vile Rory Kirk had been threatening his woman. Had abused her peace of mind.
I’ll kill him.
“Did he hurt ye? And dinna lie. I want to know everything.”
Abigail looked up at Aedan. “It doesn’t matter now. I’m more concerned about what you’re thinking.”
He leaned down and kissed her, the touch soft and far too quick. This would be their last night together. The last thing he wanted to do was spend it worrying about a man not worthy of the name.
“Tell me, lass.”
...
Abby ground her teeth, hating the fact he could read her so well. But what good would it do to tell him what Rory had done? Nothing. Aedan certainly couldn’t change the events of the day, no matter how much she may wish it.
“I know what you’ll do if I tell you, and so I won’t. I’ll be gone soon enough. No need to cause you or your people any more trouble.”
He raked a hand through his hair. “Damn it, Abigail. Tell me. That bastard cannot treat anyone under my protection in such a way. I’ll not have it.”
She sighed, her stomach knotting. “Aedan, please.”
“Tell me. Now.” His voice brooked no argument.
“He hit me, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear? Does it make this situation any better? No. It doesn’t.” When Aedan didn’t say anything, she glanced up at him and stilled at the murderous rage she could read in his eyes. “What are you thinking?”
“He’ll not harm you or anyone else from this night on. I promise ye that.” He stood and walked to the door, pushing a large chest in front of it. “Leave it locked and with the chest there. I’ll be back before dawn.”
Abby jumped from the bed, following him toward the tapestry. “Where are you going?”
“I’m going to gut the bastard, make him bleed, and possibly kill him before his men.”
“You cannot do that! Aedan, surely there’s another way.” He stared at her, seemingly not hearing anything she was saying.
“Not in this time there is not.”
His words plummeted her heart into her stomach. The thought that Aedan could be injured, or worse, killed by the unhinged Rory Kirk was too much to comprehend. “Please, you can’t. I didn’t tell you so you would go off and seek revenge.”
“But I will and there’s nothing ye can do or say that’ll stop me.” He paused at the tapestry, turning slightly to meet her gaze. “Should anything happen, hide in the secret passage until help arrives. No one will find ye there. If ye manage it without assistance, the passage leads out under the southern wall where ye can escape or seek help.”
Abby swallowed her gnawing panic. “Aedan, please. Don’t go.”
He didn’t say anything, merely turned and left, the tapestry falling back into place as if he never was. Abby slumped onto the stool beside the fire, her stomach churning with what tonight would bring.
Again her mind replayed the events of the day. Of Rory Kirk’s threats, his laughing, sadistic gaze. What’s more, a niggling thought plagued her that the bastard laird had threatened her in the hopes that she would tell Aedan. Had she unwittingly led Aedan into a trap?
Noises sounded outside, and she crossed the room and looked out the window. From here she could make out the land that the games were used for. Torches burned bright in the night sky, the sounds of clansmen enjoying drink and good company whispered on the wind.
The moon caught her eye and she cringed seeing it was full. A bad omen? Or the sign of new beginnings? That she wouldn’t know for some hours. The longest she’d ever lived in her life.
...
She jumped at the loud bang against her door. She sat up in the window seat, touching her cold cheek that had been leaning against the stone wall. The banging sounded again and she stayed where she was, frozen and unable to decide if she should speak or run for her life.
“Who is it?” Her voice sounded timid, pathetic. She cleared her throat. “Who is it?” she said, loud enough for whoever was on the other side to hear.
“It’s me, mistress. Your chamber servant. Laird MacLeod sent me up to check on ye, and ensure you were settled for the night.”
Relief poured through her as she crossed the room, sliding the trunk to the side. “Yes, I’m fine, Betsy.” She opened the door and gasped, trying to shut it as Rory Kirk stood on the other side, knife to her servant’s throat. He was too strong and pushed his way into the room, throwing the woman to the floor with enough force that she didn’t get back up again.
“Foolish woman, Abigail, if that’s what yer calling yourself these days.” He laughed, shutting the door and bolting the lock across. “I thought it’d be much harder gaining entrance into ye room. Seems ye still as daft as ye ever was.”
“What do you want?” She backed toward the fire, the closest place in the room that had some sort of weapon, the fire poker. If only she could reach her bed and grab the small knife she’d stashed under her pillow. The fire poker could only do so much, and against this brute she doubted it’d give him a bruise.
“Don’t fight me on this, lass. You’re comin’ with me.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you.” Her hand clasped the cold metal and she held it behind her back, hiding it in the skirts of her gown. He advanced on her, a menacing beast she knew she’d never win against. “Where’s Aedan?”
“Taken care of.” He smiled, showing off his rotten front teeth. “He’ll not be looking for ye tonight.”
Despair washed over her, nearly crippling her limbs. “Is he dead?” Her breathing came in quick succession and she clasped her throat, finding it hard to catch her breath.
“Not yet. But one day, and hopefully, one day soon. Now come.” He stepped toward her, but stopped when she backed away.
She sidled around him, trying to get closer to the door. Knowing it was now or never to make her move, she threw the poker at his face and bolted toward escape. He swiped at the projectile like it was an annoying moth and flung it to the floor. Unharmed, he caught her at the door, pushed her up against the wood and undulated against her bottom, the strength of him hurting her, her hipbones grinding against the wood sent pain ricocheting up her abdomen. She cried out as the air in her lungs was squeezed out.
His hand slid about her throat, and she stilled. “Do not run again, lass. I don’t take nicely to be treated with so little respect.”
“Screw you.”
He laughed, squeezing her neck until blackness flickered before her eyes. “Later yes, but right now, I need ye to shut up so I apologize for what I’m about to do. It pains me more than it’ll pain you, I assure ye.”
“Bullshit.” Abby tried to push him off before something hard slammed into her skull. That it did hurt was the last thought she had before blackness consumed her.
...
The cold wind pierced her face, her head feeling like it would split in two from the pounding headache. Slumped over a horse, her hands fastened behind her back and her ankles tied, left her feeling unbalanced and vulnerable. Her skin burned where they were latched together, and with every clop of the horses’ hooves, the bones on her ankles rubbed.
Dawn was breaking in the morning sky as they galloped to a destination she’d never seen before. Mountains rose on either side of them, and it looked like a dry riverbed, if the amount of stones the horse tripped over was any indication. On either side of the bank, heather rose up across the lower hills, its purple flowers the only ornament on an otherwise barren landscape.
The man holding her on the horse shouted out orders in quick succession, his voice loud enough to send pain spiking through her skull. She cringed.
“Awake are ye?” He patted her bottom, his hand squeezing painfully against her flesh. “’Tis about time. There is nothing more boring than having a woman when she isn’t conscious.”
“You’re a vile pig.” Abby tried to wiggle off the horse, death by a brain injury would be better than having to stay one more moment with this vile being.
His hand held her fast, and he made an awful noise of displeasure. “Try that again and I’ll slit ye throat and bleed ye over me horse’s neck.”
Abby remained silent as something told her he’d do exactly that, should she push him too far. Aedan would come for her, of that she was sure. She needed to keep this man’s hands and sword off her until he did.
Easier said than done.
“Where are we going?”
He laughed, the sound tinged with mockery. “That’s the brilliance of my plan. I’ve sent half my men with a woman from Clan MacLeod headed toward the eastern borders. Last reports have your stupid laird following them instead of us. We’re headed for O’Cain land, where me and my men will all have a turn of ye, before I kill ye stone dead.”
“I’m not the woman you seek. I have never met you before our introductions at Castle Druiminn. I don’t know why you won’t believe me.” Her voice rose in panic. The thought of being passed around, a play toy to these men made her stomach lurch. She’d never survive it. And what did it matter if she did, they were going to kill her, anyway. “If you have any moral fiber in your body you’ll let me go.”
“You are who I seek, no matter what you say. You’ve proven yourself a lying wench, and I’ll have my revenge.”
They stopped, and he clasped the back of her gown, wrenching her backward and throwing her off the horse. She landed with a thump, sprawled on her ass.. The muscles in her back screamed in pain as she tensed to stop her head from hitting the ground.
“Maybe I’ll have ye now.” He jumped from the horse and came around to stand over her, nudging one of her legs with his boot.
“Look at me,” she screamed. “I mean, really look at me. I’m not this Coira you seek. Surely in the months she lived with you, you noticed some sort of mark, a scar even, that will prove my innocence.”
He seemed to think on this a moment, before disdain covered his features. “Ye are who I say ye are.”
“How fortunate.” Abby looked around the location, searching for anyone to come and get her out of the dire situation. She noted a rough stone cottage farther down the hill, a thatch roof and no door, just a space to enter the building. The windows had no glass panels. It didn’t look like anyone had lived in the dwelling for years.
He slashed the rope at her ankles, the knife slicing into her skin. Abby gasped, but didn’t have time to see how much damage he’d done, as he hauled her up and pushed her toward the cottage.
“Inside.”
She did as she was told, entering the building and noting it was empty save for an unlit fire and an old cot to one side of the room. The floor was dirt, the air smelling of damp and mold. “Why have we stopped here?”
He looked out the door, ignoring her question.
“Why have we stopped?” Abby raised her voice the second time she asked, the fear over the unknown making her bolder.
He called out to one of his men to come to the cottage. He still didn’t answer her, but instead spoke to his clansman. “Watch the lass and don’t let her leave. If she tries, kill her, I don’t care how.”
Abby gasped in shock as he left her with a man that looked at her as if she were a tasty morsel of food, not a prisoner of his laird. She tore her gaze away as his attention lowered to her bosom, not wanting to see the salacious smirk that covered his god-awful visage.
She was a sitting duck, a target for anyone who wanted to hurt her, and tied up as she was, there was nothing she could do about it.
After a few hours of being held, Abby started to doze. It was dangerous to sleep, she knew that, and yet the pounding headache and lack of sleep the night before were catching up with her. The guard hadn’t moved, and even if he seemed to be thinking of taking her for his own pleasure, he hadn’t ventured from his post.
Famous last thoughts. No sooner had she thought it, than the sound of boots stomping across the floor woke her. She gasped as the guard grabbed her legs and pulled her down into a laying position. Abby screamed, kicking out as he tried to grab her legs and spread them apart.
Images of the horror that was about to come filled her mind. With her hands tied, she fisted them together and struck his jaw, snapping his head back. He laughed at her attack attempt, seemingly unfazed, before he slapped her hard. Abby blinked, wondering where she was for a moment, before absolute terror crashed her into reality.
He slid between her legs, the slimy tip of his jutting penis touching her thigh. Abby wrenched herself to the side, making him lose his balance. She used the moment to get up and run for the door. He caught her, pushing her forward, making her face plant into the ground. Dirt and moss entered her mouth as adrenalin flew through her veins.
Cool air touched her legs as he threw her gown up over her back. His hand pushed hard on her nape, pinning her against a rock. “Try that again, and I’ll slit yer throat. Now hold still, or it’ll be more than my cock you’ll feel back here.”
...
Aedan pushed hard through the night, his tracking hounds not taking long to find a scent of Clan Kirk and the bastard who dared to take Abigail. When he’d left her, he’d rounded up his clansmen, some less than helpful after a night of revelling, and gone looking for the soon-to-be-dead laird.
And found him missing.
That their camp was deserted wasn’t a surprise, but it made him wonder what the man was up to. He’d sent men off to try and see which direction they’d traveled, as he headed back toward the castle, wanting to ensure Abigail and Gwen were safe.
He’d found Braxton leaning up against his sister’s door, the man confirming all was well in that part of the castle. He’d then headed to Abigail’s room and found her servant with a broken neck on the floor, and no sign of his lass.
A chilling rage enveloped him and he’d bolted for the stables, calling to his men to take arms against Clan Kirk. They’d caught up with some of the other laird’s men within the hour who notified him the Kirks were headed toward O’Cain lands. No doubt hoping they’d find sanctuary within their treacherous walls. Rory Kirk would never reach O’Cain land, and he’d find no safety by the end of this night. Aedan would make sure of that.
Hours later, the light of day pierced the sky and he could see the fleeing clan in the gully beyond. He stopped his men, looking to see if he could recognize Abigail among the many men. Not seeing her, a paralysing fear that he was too late gripped him.
He looked farther up the ridge and spotted an old crofter’s cottage, movement near the door said there was a man there, but he couldn’t make out much more than that. Aedan urged his mount on, knowing that if they didn’t act soon, Abigail’s life would be in danger should they cross into O’Cain ground.
If Rory had hurt Abigail, he’d ensure his death was long and painful. Nothing would stop him from having his revenge on a man who was a blight on Scottish soil.
He yelled to his men as they barrelled into the enemy’s camp. “No prisoners. Kill them all.” His men shouted their agreement as they surrounded Clan Kirk. Aedan pulled his sword and sliced into a man as he rode past with no thought or care that the man’s last hours on earth would be long or painful. All that mattered was Abigail. Her safety.
The battle was bloody, swords clashed, and horses screamed. Aedan fell from his mount and fought with his clansmen to avenge their honor and home. The fight seemed to last forever, each stroke jarring his already injured arm, blood oozed from his wounds.
He looked up to the cottage and realized that from here, whoever was up there with Abigail, should she even be there, wouldn’t know the clan had been attacked. He headed in that direction. Sweat poured down his face, and he rubbed his eyes to clear his vision. He stopped, halting his men as Rory stood, surrounded by a few remaining clansmen, the snarl on his face making the blood in his veins turn cold. The bastard would pay for this, no matter what came out of his mouth in the next few minutes.
“You’ll lose this battle, Aedan. The woman isn’t yours, and she’ll do to you what she’s done to me, no matter what promises she makes. I’m only taking back what is mine and making her repent.”
Anger thrummed through Aedan, and he clenched his jaw. The urge to gut the man, spill his body parts, and let the dogs eat him alive, was tempting. “She’s not who you seek. Wherever your betrothed went was not to my keep. Your actions this past day have brought nothing but dishonor to your family and yourself. It ends here. Now.”
“You’re too late, in any case. I’ve already taken your sweet woman’s body.” He laughed. “She liked it, too. Begged for more, scraped her nails down me back.” Rory’s men joined in with his mirth and Aedan’s temper snapped.
He charged the man, his sword raised to chop off his head, anything, as long as the man died. Abigail would never have gone willingly to this traitor’s bed, and it left him enraged that she’d been raped.
Shock registered on Rory’s face, but it wasn’t from Aedan’s strike. The spike of a silver arrow protruded through the man’s chest, and he looked down on it for a moment in awe, before his eyes glazed over in death and he fell forward. MacLeod clansmen took care of the last remaining Kirk men as Aedan looked around for who it was that had shot the arrow.
“Are ye alright?”
His attention flicked up the ridge to a copse of trees, and he met his sister’s gaze. He swore. “What are ye doing here, Gwen? How did ye get out of yer room with Braxton at ye door?”
“You forget my room also has a hidden passageway. Braxton didn’t let me out; in fact, he’s no doubt snoring against my door right at this very moment, none the wiser.”
“We’ll be having words about this when we return home, I can assure ye.” He stood. “Now, what are ye doing here? Explain yourself.”
His sister smiled and gestured to the trees a little way away. “I was behind the tapestry in Abigail’s room when he took off with her. I followed him and knew you’d catch up, eventually. But when I saw you were going to fight him after he goaded you, I had to shoot. Your sword skills have never been the very best when you’re angry. And he angered ye on purpose.”
Shocked mute for a moment, he stared at Gwen, not believing what she was saying. “You push me this day, sister, but I’m glad of it. It seems your aim is true.”
Gwen smiled. “Are ye proud of me then?”
He nodded, starting for the cottage. “More than ye know. But ye still shouldn’t have put yourself in so much danger. These men are not the sort I want my sister around.”
“I know,” Gwen said, frowning slightly.
“Give me yer arrows. I may need them.”
She shrugged off her gear and handed them to him. Accompanied with two of his men, he ran for the cottage, the sound of a scream and swearing echoing over the ridge.
If they’d touched one hair on her body… Aedan crawled up the last of the rise and looked over a small ridge of stone and saw Abigail run from the cottage, a haggard, nasty-looking man close on her heels, before he pushed her over, sending her spiralling forward.
“Stay here. I’m going to move around and see if I can get closer without being seen.”
His men and Gwen agreed and he left, never taking his eyes off the woman he loved.
...
Abigail gasped, her eyes wide with fear as he released the arrow, watching with satisfaction as it thumped into the bastard’s back and popped out where his heart would sit. The man cried out, before falling over.
His lass rolled away from the dead man, scurrying farther still as blood pumped onto the soil and toward her foot.
“It’s alright, lass. I’ve got ye. You’re safe now.”
And thank God he did…
Aedan scooped Abigail into his arms and cradled her against him. Her body shook. He pushed a lock of hair away from her face, hoping she’d say something. Look at him, anything, but only blankness stared back at him from her normally beautiful, vibrant eyes.
She was as pale as a new moon, and as cold as the loch in winter. He felt her skull and noted the large bump protruding from the back. No doubt how Rory Kirk had removed her from his keep with little fuss. He swore, glad the bastard who’d done this was dead.
She sniffed, seemingly trying to pull herself back together. Relief poured through him that she’d not been silenced mute by her suffering.
“How did you find me? Rory said you’d headed in the opposite direction to where he was taking me.”
“We let him think we were headed away from his direction, but we weren’t. Or, at least, I wasn’t. My men informed me he’d headed for our enemy’s land. ’Tis closer than his own.” He cut the ties free from her wrists and cringed at the bloody rub marks. Picking her up, he walked over to his horse. “I need to get you and Gwen out of here. Do ye think ye can ride?”
“I think so.”
“I’m so relieved Aedan got to ye in time.” Gwen gave her a quick hug before Aedan ushered her toward a horse.
He helped her mount and pointed toward the gully to the south of them. “Ye need to ride hard in that direction, Gwen will show ye the way. You’ll come to where the river splits in two. Turn right and cross there. It isn’t deep. Ride for a few miles and then stop when you come to a clearing in the woods. We’ll catch up to ye before nightfall, I promise.”
“I’m scared, Aedan. What if something happens to you?”
He wiped a tear away from her cheek, smiling a little. “I promise ye I’ll be there. We have to end this skirmish, bury our dead.”
“Okay, I’ll see you tonight, then.”
“Aye. Nightfall,” he said, slapping her horse’s rump while watching her ride off with his sister.