Chapter 18
Honoria tested the bonds tied about her wrists and grimaced. Pins and needles feathered across her palm. At least they had bound her in a chair beside the hearth, the warmth of a crackling fire offering a measure of comfort. However, it also made her feel like a sheep going off to slaughter.
Danior, a loathsome man if she’d ever come across one, loomed over her with glittering eyes. That ought to have intimidated her. It did not.
Fury reigned at that moment.
Anger at her foolishness. Anger at Lash. Anger at her brothers. But mostly, anger at these six good-for-nothing men, who embodied the reason her brothers were so protective, and would be the singular reason they locked her away.
But beneath all her anger and worry, fear festered—fear for what was coming.
And what was coming was Lash.
And with him, his death.
How could I have been so foolish?
Danior’s cold eyes bore into her, cruelty swirling in their depth. A shudder of apprehension stole over her. Honoria held her ground. She refused to show fear. Instead she clung to her anger.
“I never thought I’d see the day agadjisaved a Rom,” he said. “Put quite a wrinkle in my plan.”
“I do not take your meaning, sir.”
“You saved my brother.”
She lifted a haughty chin. “I have never met your brother.”
“Little liar.” Dark eyes searched her face. “The real question, I suppose, is where you found him.”
Honoria narrowed her eyes and returned his courtesy by allowing her gaze to travel down the length of him and back up, taking stock of his lean build, dirty clothing and the frosty pull of his lips.
She wrinkled her nose. “When did you last bathe?”
His lips thinned. “You are brazen, little girl, I’ll give you that. Be glad I have use for you.”
Honoria arched a brow and thought quickly. There seemed little point in continuing her charade of ignorance. He did not believe her, convinced that she’d saved Lash. And since Hugh and Lash would search for her, and prove him right, she could spend her time more productively, like taunting him or better yet, misdirecting him.
“Danior Ruthven,” she announced, catching the surprise that registered in his eyes. “You have paved quite a trail through our countryside, and for nothing, I hear. You brother is long gone.”
He took an aggressive step forward. “You are lying.”
Honoria shrugged. She hadn’t cowered before him yet. She wouldn’t now. “We Highlanders are wary of strangers. Our aid ended the moment we learned your brother, like you, was a gypsy. After which, your brother vanished. But you, you have gathered quite the reputation for being unwelcome in the North.”
“Do not forget you are at my mercy,” he growled.
“Och, I am indeed aware of that, Mr. Ruthven. But you have made a grave mistake this day.” She managed a tight smile. “It is not your brother that will come for me, but mine.”
“You think some loftygadjoscare me?”
She shrugged. “They will once you realize by abducting me, you have cost you and your men their lives.”
The men erupted into laughter at her wild threat.
“Laugh all you wish,” Honoria said, somewhat annoyed. “But mark my words, if I perish, you will all perish right alongside me.”
Danior lowered his face until it was mere inches away from hers. His putrid breath curled up in her nose. “While I don’t doubt that, little girl, I do doubt your claim that my brother is long gone. I have it on good authority that he is exactly where you say he is not.”
“You are misinformed.”
