Her Heart's Desire (20 page)

Ealasaid’s bravery tumbled into the soles of her feet. Blood dripped down her throat, tinging her saliva a metallic flavor.
Gods, don’t let them find us. Don’t let them kill Da or the boys.

She shivered when a woman screamed. Aileen clamped her hands over her ears and muttered a frantic prayer. Keavy wrapped her arms around Neilina and Aileen. The three of them rocked back and forth. The motion stirred up dust and made Ealasaid cough.

“Quiet,” Donald hissed from below.

The door flew open and light filled the hall. Kirsteen screamed, but the sound cut short.

Ealasaid bit her lip hard. Keavy pressed her hand over Neilina’s mouth, smothering the babyish whimpers threatening to reveal them. Below, men struggled and knocked over the heavy furniture. The light brightened again, and the sickening scent of burning hair reached the loft. The furs…or perhaps even a person on fire.

Ealasaid shook. The knife clattered on the loft floor. Aileen pinched her leg.
They can’t hear it over the fighting.
A yell rang out in the hall, followed by a sucking sound. She leaned forward and peered over the edge of the loft.

Donald staggered into view, his hands clutching his innards. He hit his knees then fell on his face. Near him, Kirsteen lay motionless, along with some of the Kentigern’s thralls and a few churls. All dead. There wasn’t any sign of Eoghann.

There wasn’t anyone left to protect the Kentigern’s daughters.

She snatched up her knife and huddled on the edge of the loft. Keavy grabbed for her, but missed. Below, a black-haired
vikingr
surveyed the damage he’d caused. Blood splattered his jerkin and boots, and coated the blade in his hand.

A rush of fury bolted through Ealasaid’s veins.
No one
hurt the Kentigern’s kin or ruined his home. She jumped from the loft and hit the young Norseman's back.

He staggered under her weight but didn’t fall. Ealasaid gripped her weapon and plunged it into the hard muscle of his upper arm then ripped it free. She lifted it to stab him again, but he snagged her dress and flipped her over his head. The air whooshed from her chest when she landed on her back, leaving her muscles useless. The knife clattered away.

A wicked smile split the invader's grime-covered face. He grabbed her dress front and lifted her off the floor. “A little warrior all set to defend her settlement. This one is braver than most of the men we killed tonight.”

She bit him below the thumb as hard as she could. Blood and grit filled her mouth. He dropped her, and she sprawled out once more. Before she could move, someone forced her father through the door.

The Kentigern, bloodied and bruised, fell to his knees. A man wearing Ingvar’s crest twisted the Kentigern’s arm behind his back.

“Ealasaid,” her father said. “Run, girl.”

The utter devastation on his face made her skin prickle.

Tall warriors blocked the entrance.

“Da,” she whispered. She reached for him, but the Norseman she’d bitten yanked her hair.

The man holding her father swept his blade across the Kentigern’s throat. A flood of crimson washed down Cairbre the Kentigern’s tunic.

Ealasaid cried out and fought against the grip holding her back.

“Take the thralls to the ships.” The man who’d killed her father released the corpse. “Hella, dispose of the runt and help the others.”

She glared up at the invader whose fingers tangled in her hair. “I’m not afraid to die.”

“No, it appears not. I wonder why?” Blue eyes the color of sky after a storm pierced her.

“I am Cairbre the Kentigern’s daughter, Ealasaid. I have no reason to fear gutless
vikingr
dogs.” She lashed out at him.

He laughed again. “Well said.”

His fist hit her jaw and black spots blinded her.