“Liar,” Sorcha spat.
Hagan glared at his brother. “This makes no sense, brother. Are you telling me that because of some rumor spoken by a spy, you planned to steal Tadd’s sister …?”
Darton’s lips curved into a hateful smile. “Not just his sister, Hagan. Surely you’ve heard the old ones whisper between themselves. Think they that the bearer of the kiss of the moon is the savior of all Prydd, and mayhaps all Wales.”
“ ’Tis foolishness; you said so yourself,” Hagan said, shaking his head at his brother’s trust in such blasphemy; not that he was particularly religious, but he was certainly not stupid enough to believe in the power of a discoloration of the skin. “You’ve put this castle in danger and started the feud again. By taking Eaton’s daughter, you have thrown down the gauntlet, and we are surely to face bloody battles, losing many men for naught.” He shoved the hair from his eyes and resisted the urge to pounce on his brother and beat him within an inch of his miserable life.
“Now we have something with which to bargain,” Darton said, and at that particular word, Hagan froze.
“Too many bargains have already been struck and broken. What have you done with Lady Leah?”
“She is safe.”
“But kept prisoner.”
Darton nodded. “I would not have her escape, even though she was not the woman I sought.”
Hagan’s head throbbed. “Did you lie with her?”
Darton’s eyes flickered with malice. “Does it matter?”
“It matters much. If you’ve forced her into your bed, then you shall marry her.” He ignored the cry from Sorcha’s lips. “ ’Tis the only way to appease Eaton.”
“Mayhap I would rather marry this one,” Darton said, motioning toward Sorcha, and Sorcha’s blood turned to ice.
“Nay!” she whispered violently.
Hagan glanced at the woman whom he’d nearly bedded and pretended complete disinterest, though the thought of Darton lying with Sorcha burned like a hot ember in his guts. “ ’Tis too late. You’ve made your choice.”
“Leah would never marry him!”
Hagan whirled on her. “What if she is with child?”
The joints of her knees seemed to buckle for an instant. The thought of Leah bearing Darton’s bastard was a horrid thought indeed, but marriage to this devil’s spawn? However, loath though she was to think such vile things, ’twas possible that Leah was already carrying the blackguard’s child.
Sorcha inched her chin upward, and her voice was barely a whisper. “My sister would rather die than marry anyone from the house of Erbyn.”
“Wench!” Darton whispered. “What she needs is—”
“Where is the sister?” Hagan’s voice was as hard as steel, his lips as thin as hunting blades.
Darton, as if sensing the unspoken challenge between Sorcha and Hagan, hesitated. “How did this one sneak past our guards?”
“That, we will discuss later. Now, brother,” he said, his lips barely moving, “tell me of Leah.”
Darton saw the fury in Hagan’s glare and knew that there was no further use in outwardly defying him. If only he’d known that Sorcha had come to Erbyn, if only he’d intercepted her, for she was the woman he wanted, the most powerful woman in all of Wales.
“The lady is in the east wing,” he admitted.
“I want to see her. Now.” Sorcha didn’t trust Darton, nor did she have any faith in his brute of a brother. She would only feel at ease when she saw Leah again. Then, perhaps, they could bargain, if only Hagan would believe her and not Darton’s desperate lies. Surely Hagan, who seemed to honor the truce, would free both women and have them escorted safely back to Prydd.
Tadd would be furious with both his sisters as well as with Hagan, but Sorcha was certain her brother would find a way to make this horrid ordeal profitable—without Leah being forced to marry Darton. Tadd would demand payment for the dishonor of Prydd, and Hagan, if he had any shred of decency in his dark soul, wouldn’t argue Tadd’s claim.
Only Sorcha would know the depths of her own dishonor, for she would live with the memory of nearly giving herself to Hagan. She clenched her teeth at that particular thought as she followed Hagan’s swift strides down the stairs through the great hall and to the far side of the castle where the air was dank and chill. This, she understood, was the older part of the keep, used only when there were more guests than could be housed in the western portion. There were cracks in the walls, and she remembered that she’d heard that once, years ago, Erbyn had been scarred by battle, some of the battlements and parts of the hall nearly destroyed. Most of the castle had to be rebuilt.
With its damp smell and dim torches, this part of Erbyn was as much a prison as any foul dungeon. But Leah was strong; she would survive, knowing that Sorcha would come to free her.
They climbed two flights of stairs that led to a narrow corridor lit only by rushlights. A thin guard with a pockmarked face was posted near a thick oak door. “Let us in,” Darton said softly, and the grim-faced soldier glanced at Hagan before quickly unlocking the door.