Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Between avoiding Ivan's lecherous "protection" and trying to make out the land across the sea, it wasn't until Brighit was deposited on the curragh that she realized her uncle was not joining her.

"Why are you not coming?" Her words were quick. Irritated.

Uncle Ronan stared at her before he answered. "Do you hear anything besides your own prattling in that head of yours? These men know the area much better than I. They will get you safely to the Priory."

He puffed out a sigh then took both of her hands. Was he finally aware of her dilemma? His lecherous friend stood close enough behind her that she could feel his breath on her neck. No, her uncle didn't seem to notice and was not aware of her distress.

"My dear niece," he said and kissed her primly on both cheeks. "You will arrive safely and your new life will be all that you could have imagined."

He had no idea what she was imagining. She leaned away from him. Ivan's hands grasped her bottom. She squeaked, twisted away, and shot a glare at the little man. He smiled innocently.

Her uncle frowned with a why-are-you-interrupting-me look. He cleared his throat. "Don't worry, my dear, Ivan will stay by your side." He misunderstood the exchange. "No harm will come to you under my watch."

She yanked her hands away. "But it's not your watch. You're handing me off. Does my brother know of this?"

His eyes narrowed, tightening at the corners. "Do you question me, girl? I was afraid that tongue of yours might be the very reason you are still not wed. They do not allow for such disrespect where you're going."

He turned away and mounted his horse without a backward glance. The curragh left the shore, jerking Brighit forward. The choppy water immediately made her nauseous and she leaned to the side rope, emptying the contents of her stomach until there was nothing but dry retching.

Exhausted, she dropped to the bottom of the small craft, one hand still on the side rail, and prayed for death to come quickly.

By the time they made land, her head was swimming and nothing seemed as it should. She was pushed and pulled up the grassy hill by strangers to a carriage even smaller than her family's. Rough hands grabbed at her to lift her none too gently and placed her beside a small cart. Bile flooded her mouth.

"There you go, lady." Ivan stood beside the bald-headed brute who dared to handle her as if she were a sack of potatoes. More than a head taller, he made Ivan appear even smaller. "You've arrived unscathed."

She pressed back against the wooden side of the conveyance and away from the three men now surrounding her. Her skin crawled under their close scrutiny. But she looked right back. None offered the protection of which she was so desperately in need. She pushed her shoulders back and addressed the bearded man to her left. He had in no way participated in her mishandling.

"My thanks." She brushed down her skirts and tried not to appear as molested as she felt. "I'm truly sorry I was so ill."

"That is the way of it for some." He shrugged, then crossed the short distance to a disorganized pile of items, presumably their belongings. The bald-headed man followed close behind.

"I've seen you safely across." Ivan pronounced and crossed his arms. An arrogant smile puckered his lips. When he spoke, the scent of herring and turnips drifted toward her. She swallowed hard against the nausea that threatened to overtake her again.

"That should lessen after you get a good night's sleep." The heavily bearded man stopped behind her, bowing stiffly, a sack in each arm. "My name is Cole."

"Thank you, Cole, for your assistance." She moved away from Ivan. "Are you our guide?"

"Aye, I'll be taking you to Father Tinsley—"

"Father Tinsley?" Brighit had never heard of a Father Tinsley just Sister Elizabeth. "What about Sister Elizabeth?"

"The Prioress? She died, must be five years ago now. Father Tinsley. He keeps the place."

What of the agreement with the Prioress? Did this Father Tinsley know anything about her or her family? A rock settled in Brighit's stomach. She assessed the strange faces of the men before her. None could be trusted. Ivan had made that quite plain. She needed to convince them to do the right thing.

"Then the Priory may not be the best place for me to go." Her voice was quiet. She avoided direct eye contact.

This could indeed be the perfect opportunity for her to return home. She had no need to go to a Priory that was not expecting her. She steadied her breathing and prayed for that response from one of them.

Ivan snorted and continued as if she'd spoken not one single word. "Cole knows the land here very well. He will get us safely to our destination. Fear not."

"And then what?" Brighit snapped. "They're probably not even expecting me."

Ivan's eyes narrowed in warning. "Rest assured. Father Tinsley is expecting you."

Cole refused to even acknowledge her, glancing over her shoulder. Brighit turned to look, too. She saw nothing untoward.

"Will someone else be joining us?" Her tone was laced with irritation.

Cole jerked back and searched her face. "No." He cleared his throat. "We need to get a few miles between us and the sea before we stop for the night."

He took the high seat of the carriage. Ivan was there beside her, gripping her arm and forcing her inside the conveyance before she could protest. His hand grasped her backside once again before giving her a shove. She turned on him, the cart dipping with the movement.

"If you touch me like that one more time, I will carve out your heart."

His nostrils flared and his smile grew. "I like a good fight."

"Augh!"

The fact that she had no weapon to defend herself with was something she decided to take care of at the first opportunity. Unfortunately, they didn't stop at an inn that night where she might have been able to obtain a dagger, but rather in the woods with the sounds of unfamiliar animals howling in the distance.

She lay flat on her back, fully clothed, in the bottom of the cramped carriage. Heavy curtains covered the windows. Earlier, the men said they would be sleeping on the ground outside and assured her she would be well protected.

However, sleep was not on their minds. They were deep in their cups, talking loudly. The strains of Andrew's poorly played whistle permeated her little space. A lone howl pierced the night and the abrupt silence told her they listened as well. That was the last thought she had before falling into a deep sleep.

The tempting smell of the fire and the promise of food awoke her with a start. She found the curtains were pulled back all around her. A strange feeling that someone had been watching her slithered up her spine. Glancing down at herself, she was relieved to find nothing out of place except for the tight cap that had slipped off her head. The wimple lay in a crumpled ball at her side. Her long, thick hair fell in disarray around her. She sat up and shoved her hair back into the little hat. The carriage rocked beneath her with each movement.

"'Bout time you woke up, lady." It was the bald man—Andrew.

She swallowed a sarcastic retort and said, "I'm sorry if I overslept. You could have awakened me."

The looks they all exchanged with little knowing smiles startled her. The vaguest memory of a dream flooded her thoughts where she had been stroked and touched by the same unimaginable creatures she'd heard in the night. No. She'd slept like the dead except for those dreams. It was the seasickness, draining her to the point that almost anything could have happened and she wouldn't have known.

She finished tucking her hair up before facing them again. Ivan caught her eye and winked. The other men laughed, sheepishly glancing her way.

It was not safe for her to be the only woman with these men, none of which were a relative of hers. Her brother would never have allowed it. Her father would never have allowed it. Her uncle could apparently care less. He'd even taken offense at her questioning if she was being protected. These three did not appear to value her as one that should be well-cared for.

Ivan had insisted she was not "the treasured, virginal sacrifice." Flashes of a memory, of rough hands on her. Of low moans of pleasure. No, that couldn't be what happened. She would have awakened had anyone touched her person. Surely. Tadhg had assured her it would take less than a fortnight to get to the Priory and learn her fate. That seemed a very long time.

The days dragged by with Brighit confined inside the carriage. They traveled by way of the Great North Road along the River Wharfe. She was kept inside the carriage with the windows covered. She didn't mind the added warmth, or not seeing where they traveled, or protection from prying eyes but she didn't dare ask any question. Instead she listened.

The men talked to each other in low tones. They took turns driving the carriage and, on occasion, one of the men would ride with her. Never as a companionable guest but more like a stiff-mouthed guard. By the fourth day, Brighit discerned that the timing of these visits coincided with her guides being joined by other travelers. It was almost as if the men were ensuring she did not call attention to herself. Then their voices would be loud, friendly.

This realization stoked her rebellious spirit. Were the other travelers a threat to her? Or was it more likely that part of her "protection" was making sure no one saw her? She doubted other travelers cared about her one way or another. Irritation rose, making her itch to show some type of defiance to this predicament.

Andrew sat across from her, using his dagger to clean his teeth after their midday repast. She glanced out the window. Three unknown men now rode abreast of Ivan. As different as three men could be, one had a long, dark hair and a big smile. Another was fair-haired and shorter than his companions. The last man had the red hair of the northerners—a Scot. They were having a lively conversation with Ivan and Cole, who was driving the carriage. She cleared her throat.

"Ivan." She stuck her head out the small opening before Andrew could react. "I need to see to nature's call."

Andrew leaned forward, his hands flexing at his side, but stopped short of pulling her out of the opening. She leaned back against the wooden seat and smiled sweetly. He growled and tapped the side of the carriage to signal Cole to stop.

Ivan and the other men did the same a short distance away. She jumped from the carriage and the jaws of the three visitors dropped at the sight. Apparently other travelers may indeed have some interest in her.

"Gentlemen," Brighit said, tipping her chin in acknowledgement before heading toward the side of the road. She paused. They were in an open field without so much as a bush to hide behind. Brighit squared her shoulders and headed to the right of the road.

"Hold!" One of the three men dropped from his horse and ran to her. "Might I assist you? There is a small area to this side of the road just a ways."

It was the man with black hair and a beguiling smile. He had bright, green eyes. He took her elbow, directing her the opposite way from which she had been heading.

Brighit exhaled her relief. "My thanks, uh—."

"Lachlann," he offered and bowed most gallantly. "My pleasure to assist such a bonny lass."

Ivan stomped toward them. "Unhand her." He took her arm out of his hold, jerking her against him. He pierced her with his gaze. "What game are you playing at?"

Lachlann stepped away, a bewildered look on his face. Brighit's insides recoiled.

"I nee—need to relieve myself." Her voice quivered, unsure whether Ivan would take her up on his threat now that she'd apparently overstepped her bounds.

"What is amiss?" Lachlann's eyes rounded in concern.

Ivan smiled at the man. "My apologies."

"Ivan!" Cole's voice bellowed. "We stop here for the night."

Ivan turned back toward her, his lips curled into a tight snicker. "You will obey me." The words were whispered, so Brighit doubted even Lachlann, who stood beside her, could hear him. "Do you comprehend me well enough now?"

Fear flashed through her. His grip tightened on her arm. "I do not know what I have done to anger you so."

"Ivan!"

Ivan turned to Lachlann, dismissing him with a smile on his ugly face. "I will see she is taken care of."

The other man's frown deepened, confusion marring his handsome features. "As you wish."

Lachlann went back to his friends, his shoulders rounded in disappointment. Ivan pulled her none too gently, trying not to be too obvious, of that Brighit was certain. The anger coursing through him was overwhelming. She'd played with fire and gotten burned. What was she thinking? Perhaps they'd just leave her on the side of the road now. Then what would become of her?

Her "protectors" all treated her with little regard, as if she were a loose woman. They spoke of inappropriate sexual conquests and large-breasted females. Over the past few days, Ivan had often dropped his voice mid-story, speaking low to the other men. They each turned toward her, their eyes roving hungrily over her body. She was in desperate straits and had no one to help her. She didn't even know where she was.

She trudged back, following behind Ivan.

Cole's disarming smile brought the attention of the three travelers back to him. "You know the area then?"

"Well enough." The red-haired man stepped toward Cole, extending his arm. "My name is Niall. Perhaps we can be of some assistance to you."

Cole grasped his wrist. "I am called Cole. Thank you for the kind offer. I'm sure you can, Niall. And your friends?"

"This is Lachlann," Niall answered, then indicated the blond. "And this is Aldred."

"I'm thinking the lady still needs to piss," Lachlann blurted out.

Brighit blanched. All heads turned toward her. She wanted to crawl into a hole.

"You're an arse, Lachlann." Aldred screwed his face up in disgust. "You don't talk about pissing and shitting with the ladies present."

"You just did," Lachlann defended himself, his feet wide apart, ready for a fight.

"I beg your forgiveness," Niall said as he searched her face. His expression changed to one of appreciation before he continued. "My friends are simple men without courtly graces."

Brighit noticed their bare legs which were clearly visible beneath their long shirts, the dark smudges on the blond's face, and food stuck to the side of his mouth. "You are forgiven."

Ivan's firm touch on her back, in warning, wasn't missed by Brighit, before he stepped toward the men, offering them his arm. "She doesn't need any airs. She's a plain woman herself."

"If someone could direct me?" she asked.

The three young men began to speak at once, fawning over her to see who would indeed be her guide to a private area. Brighit's cheeks heated until she noticed Ivan behind them, a scowl on his face and his fisted hands on his hips. She swallowed hard before answering.

"Please, if you could point me in the direction I can go?"

"There is a small loch just over that rise, a short distance."

Brighit nodded before heading where Lachlann had directed her. Even if for only a few minutes, a break from these men would be greatly appreciated.