Now she saw beyond her god, as if he had let her eyes loose to learn her new world. Padric, this one was called: tall, thinly muscular, dressed in battered leather coat and a pair of green twill pants over worn black boots. His eyes looked sad under long blonde hair, guarded, as if he was used to doing things he'd rather not talk about.
He carried circlets of iron joined by thin chains. They burned with a peculiar cold heat when he locked them around her throat, around her wrists in front of her, around her ankles.
Maureen jerked at the touch, eyes wide and appealing to Sean. Why did he allow this?
"Sorry, love, we have a deal. I give Dougal what he wants; he gives me what I want. You may be very beautiful, but I'm not prepared to take the risk of keeping you. Dougal likes living dangerously. I have other needs."
He turned away from her. "Dougal, old boy, I promised that no one would take her without her consent. I trust you won't make a liar of me."
"Och, no," the little man drawled. "She will ask me to bed her before we are done. She will beg me. And nothing we do will mark this beautiful maiden--no scars, no blood, no fire. Just simple discipline and training."
Sean gave Maureen a long look that drew flame to her cheeks. "Maiden? I think not. A virgin wouldn't have reacted the way she has to the glamour, wouldn't have such vivid thoughts of the smell and feel of a lover. Such complicated thoughts. She's known men before and doesn't like the species. She's more dangerous than your hawks and beasts. Don't blame me when you find her pulling your keep down around your ears."
The heat faded from Maureen's belly, leaving sour ice behind. The word "glamour" echoed in her ears. That was the emotional touch Brian had used, to calm her after Liam's death and the strip-club fire.
She was trapped.
Kidnapped.
Brian had tried to warn her. "Don't trust Fiona," he'd said. "Don't trust Sean. The Old Ones don't have what you'd call a conscience." What they could do, they did, no matter what pain it caused to others.
She snarled and threw herself at Sean, hands out and fingernails turned to claws. Her feet jerked out from under her, and she smashed full-length into the forest dirt. She rolled, spitting rotten leaves, scrambling to kick and scratch and bite the slimy bastard who did this to her, to claw his eyes out and loop her wrist-chains around his throat and strangle him.
Her feet jerked away again and dragged her backwards, twigs and leaves gouging into her bare skin where her blouse rode up along her back. The pull turned upward and she swung by her ankles, head just clear of the ground, thrashing around and screaming at three sets of feet.
She finally calmed enough to see the thin chain hooked to the shackles around her ankles, then looped up over a low branch and held by Padric. A leash. They had her on a fucking leash, like some kind of dog.
Maureen spat, again and again, until she cleared her mouth of all the forest trash. "I'll kill you! I'll kill every single fucking one of you!"
Sean smiled that mocking smile again. "Too bad she isn't wearing skirts, Dougal. Pants just aren't as interesting in this position."
Maureen's blouse hung loose around her neck, and that fucking bra-snap had popped open again so her breasts bounced free as she swung. She snarled and curled up, to reach the chain hooked to her ankles, but Padric yanked it higher and she fell back. Now even her hands didn't reach the ground.
She twisted, helpless, jerking like a hooked fish. She didn't even try to cover herself, to hide her flushed breasts from their greedy eyes.
"Okay, you bastards. Go ahead and rape me! Three strong men against one woman, you should be able to do it!"
She glared at each of them, through her tears. If they'd just come close enough . . . . Sean looked amused, Padric frightened, while Dougal licked his lips as if he was considering her challenge. She hoped he'd try. She'd strangle him with his own goddamned chains.
Sean's quiet chuckle broke the silence. "I warned you, Dougal," he said. "Now you begin to understand what you've bought. I hope you still plan to pay."
The gnome spat. "Oh, I'll help you capture your Pendragon. He'll come after her, right into our trap. And this little wildcat won't be that hard to tame. I've handled worse--bigger, stronger, and with real claws."
Pendragon.
Brian.
Trap.
She'd let her guard slip because her paranoia was more afraid of Brian than of real dangers. She'd turned off her fucking brain when she walked into the Quick Shop, and ended up in chains. Ended up as bait.
Dougal stepped forward, expertly snagged her wrists, and snapped a second chain to those shackles. Then he tweaked her right nipple with his free hand, spun her around to smack her butt like a horse turned out to pasture, and motioned Padric to let her down.
She thumped limp on the ground. Brian! she screamed, but only in her mind. The thoughts kept circling through her terror. He'd warned her. Now he was in danger because of her stupidity. And he was still hurt.
She rolled to her knees, shaking herself. Padric loosened the chain from the limb overhead, giving her an instant's slack. She flung herself at him. Her arms snapped around against her motion, nearly ripping her shoulder joints apart, and she thumped back to the ground. A scream tore loose from her throat.
Chains bit into her wrists. Chains chewed on her ankles. They pulled her taut between them, stretched helpless face-up on the forest floor. Fury gave her the strength to pull against them, and she gained an inch, six inches, a foot, before
