‘What do you mean?’ An invisible frost seemed to slide within her veins. There was no doubting the seriousness of his words. She had touched the scars, and she knew how much Alarr suffered when he overexerted himself.
But Rurik refused to answer. Instead, he seized her ropes and demanded, ‘Walk.’
Numbly, she obeyed. Though she ought to be somewhat grateful that he was taking her home, it was a day’s journey from here, perhaps longer. They had no horse, no shelter, and no food. It was clear that Rurik had acted on impulse, and she wondered if he even knew where he was going.
Strange that she should now be wondering how to return to the Lochlannach settlement, instead of being eager to go home. Alarr had made her feel safe, whereas she didn’t trust Rurik to protect her. He was only one man.
She thought about his claim, that Feann had caused Alarr’s wounds. How could that be true? Her foster father had never gone to Maerr, to her knowledge. He had only ever travelled to Britain two summers ago. Surely Rurik was mistaken.
Or had Feann lied?
She decided to try another tactic. ‘I need a moment to catch my breath.’
‘We have no time. Else they will find us.’ The determination on Rurik’s face revealed that he was not going to let her ruin his plans. She weighed her options, wondering who she trusted more. Rurik claimed that he was trying to avoid a war...but she was more concerned about Alarr. She believed in her heart that he was a man of honour, for he had never forced her or claimed her as his concubine. Even when he had kissed her, tempting her into surrender, he had not demanded her body. He had treated her as a woman of worth, and that meant something.
She preferred to travel with Alarr, and though he would be angry at his brother, she wanted no part in this escape. Seeing no other choice, Breanne let her body fall slack to the ground, making herself into dead weight.
‘I am not going,’ she said. ‘If you intend to take me, you’ll have to carry me.’
The black rage on Rurik’s face frightened her, but she forced herself to stare back. Once, Alarr had told her that his brother was known as Rurik the Dark at home. Though it had been a name describing his dark hair, she saw that it also implied a darkness to his mood.
‘Get up,’ he demanded. There was no mercy in his voice, only a quiet rage.
Breanne drew her knees up, shielding herself in case he decided to hit her. But she did not rise from the ground.
With a grunt of annoyance, Rurik lifted her up and slung her over his shoulder. ‘Stubborn woman.’
‘I could say the same of you. This isn’t safe, and you know it. Alarr will be furious with you.’
‘It was my only chance to stop him.’
He strode through the trees as if she weighed nothing, but after a time, he shifted her to the opposite shoulder. She didn’t know how to talk her way out of this, but the trees were thinner in this part of the forest. Ahead, she spied a clearing. At least she could gain a sense of where she was.
Rurik slowed his pace and set her down as soon as they reached the edge of the trees. He took her bound hands and pulled her forward. ‘I do not want my brother to die. And if Alarr brings you back, Feann will not hesitate to slit his throat.’
‘My foster father has never seen him before.’
Rurik shook his head. ‘Ask Feann yourself. He will tell you of the raid in Maerr and what happened on Alarr’s wedding day.’
She stared back at him. Alarr had never once spoken of a wife. If anything, she had believed he was a lonely man from the way he’d held her at night. ‘His wedding?’
‘Ask him what happened to Alarr’s bride.’ His voice was like stone, hard and unyielding.
‘Tell me,’ she whispered, though she suspected the truth already. From the harsh look on Rurik’s face, the woman must be dead. And if he was somehow right about Feann’s misdeeds, then Alarr had a very different reason for wanting to see her foster father.
She started to take a step forward, outside the trees. But a moment later, Rurik jerked her back. ‘Wait.’
She didn’t understand why he held her, until a few moments later when she heard the sound of a horse approaching. If it was Styr’s men searching, she wanted to be found. Before he could stop her, she screamed for help.
Rurik clamped his hand over her mouth and let out a foul curse. ‘Be silent.’
She could feel his anger from the way his thumbs dug into her jaw, but what choice did she have? The rider was her only hope.
When she caught sight of them, she saw four men, with only one on horseback. Rurik picked her up, running through the trees. Breanne nearly struck her head against a low branch, but within moments, the rider caught up to them. He reached for the rope binding her hands and pulled it hard. Breanne lost her balance and fell to the ground, and Rurik stumbled backwards since he had tied one end to his arm.
‘What do we have here?’ the man asked. Breanne kept her head down but recognised him as Oisin MacLogan. Her foster father had welcomed him once, and Oisin had wanted to court her as his bride. Something about the man had made her skin crawl. His words were kind, but she had sensed the insincerity beneath them. She had refused him as a husband, and after she’d turned him down, Oisin had been furious.
Breanne prayed he would not recognise
