were families. A small child cried out when one of the men pulled her out of her mother’s arms. The man tugged the woman away, and the child wailed in protest.
Fiona’s mind raced. Slave trading right before her eyes, and she would be tossed in with the rest. She realized no candle or soothing words from her Nana could take away the horrors of what she was experiencing.
“If it was only that simple,” she muttered.
Her captor jerked her to a stop. He stood with his arms crossed across his chest. She watched as their leader made his way to the platform, waving his hand to one of the men in charge. After a brief exchange, he motioned to her captor to bring her along.
She stumbled forward looking around for any sign of escape. There were people in front and the water at her back. Her mind kept screaming at her to do something.
But what? And where could she go?
Her captor shoved her onto the platform.
An outburst of shouting erupted from the crowd. The leader came forward, shoving her coat back off her shoulders to expose her breasts fully to the crowd. Some cheered, while others shouted out bargains. One man came forward and pulled on her hair.
Her medieval nightmare was torturing her, and she felt dizzy. I. Will. Not. Faint .
At once, the crowd started to part.
Fiona thought her first captor was a giant. She was wrong.
The man striding forward in the middle of the mob was taller than everyone else. His fur-lined cloak whipped around him as he stormed down the hill. His long dark hair hung in waves past his shoulders, and she noticed he had braids on each side of his face.
The closer he came, the more Fiona began to tremble. His face bore a deep crescent scar from his left eyebrow down below his cheek. This giant was a demon, and some actually crossed themselves as he passed them.
When he reached the platform, he narrowed his eyes and glared at the two men by her side. They instantly stepped away.
As with everyone else, he was no different. He looked her up and down, though when he gazed into her eyes for a moment, Fiona saw confusion.
The demon spoke. “How much do ye want, Robert?”
“Ye cannot have her.” He spit onto the ground in front of the man.
The monster’s voice remained deadly calm. “And why would that be?”
“Ye have nothing to offer.”
Fiona saw the shift of color in the demon’s green eyes. It was enough for the man called Robert to back away.
“I dinnae want any trouble.”
The giant leaned his head down. “Would ye take these?” He pulled out a small pouch and opened it. Pulling out several stones, he held them aloft. “Amber from the Northmen’s homeland.”
Robert’s eyes went wide, but then he crossed his arms. “I will take the lot and a barrel of your whisky.”
The man arched a brow. “How do ye ken I have whisky?”
“Do ye take me for a fool, MacKay?”
“Nae, Robert, but only foolish if ye do not take my offer of ten stones and one barrel.”
The moments stretched out between the two men, and Fiona’s heart pounded in her chest. She was being traded for amber stones and a damn barrel of whisky. And what had Robert called him?
“Done!” Robert spit into his hand and held it out.
Instead of shaking his hand, he dropped the ten stones onto his palm. He waved over his head and another man came forth. “Have Steiner bring me a barrel of my whisky.”
“The Kelly won’t be pleased.”
“Do not worry about him. I will send Steiner with another of my private stash.”
“Aye.”
Robert stepped aside. “I do not understand why ye would want this one.”
“I do not expect ye to,” replied her new captor.
Fiona’s eyes went wide when her demon took a hold of her rope and walked her away from the crowd.
As soon as they passed the hoard of people, he turned to face her. “What is your name, lass?”
Her tongue felt as if it were plastered to the roof of her mouth.
“Can ye not speak?” he asked.
“Fi…ona…Fiona O’Quinlan,” she
Fiona’s mind raced. Slave trading right before her eyes, and she would be tossed in with the rest. She realized no candle or soothing words from her Nana could take away the horrors of what she was experiencing.
“If it was only that simple,” she muttered.
Her captor jerked her to a stop. He stood with his arms crossed across his chest. She watched as their leader made his way to the platform, waving his hand to one of the men in charge. After a brief exchange, he motioned to her captor to bring her along.
She stumbled forward looking around for any sign of escape. There were people in front and the water at her back. Her mind kept screaming at her to do something.
But what? And where could she go?
Her captor shoved her onto the platform.
An outburst of shouting erupted from the crowd. The leader came forward, shoving her coat back off her shoulders to expose her breasts fully to the crowd. Some cheered, while others shouted out bargains. One man came forward and pulled on her hair.
Her medieval nightmare was torturing her, and she felt dizzy. I. Will. Not. Faint .
At once, the crowd started to part.
Fiona thought her first captor was a giant. She was wrong.
The man striding forward in the middle of the mob was taller than everyone else. His fur-lined cloak whipped around him as he stormed down the hill. His long dark hair hung in waves past his shoulders, and she noticed he had braids on each side of his face.
The closer he came, the more Fiona began to tremble. His face bore a deep crescent scar from his left eyebrow down below his cheek. This giant was a demon, and some actually crossed themselves as he passed them.
When he reached the platform, he narrowed his eyes and glared at the two men by her side. They instantly stepped away.
As with everyone else, he was no different. He looked her up and down, though when he gazed into her eyes for a moment, Fiona saw confusion.
The demon spoke. “How much do ye want, Robert?”
“Ye cannot have her.” He spit onto the ground in front of the man.
The monster’s voice remained deadly calm. “And why would that be?”
“Ye have nothing to offer.”
Fiona saw the shift of color in the demon’s green eyes. It was enough for the man called Robert to back away.
“I dinnae want any trouble.”
The giant leaned his head down. “Would ye take these?” He pulled out a small pouch and opened it. Pulling out several stones, he held them aloft. “Amber from the Northmen’s homeland.”
Robert’s eyes went wide, but then he crossed his arms. “I will take the lot and a barrel of your whisky.”
The man arched a brow. “How do ye ken I have whisky?”
“Do ye take me for a fool, MacKay?”
“Nae, Robert, but only foolish if ye do not take my offer of ten stones and one barrel.”
The moments stretched out between the two men, and Fiona’s heart pounded in her chest. She was being traded for amber stones and a damn barrel of whisky. And what had Robert called him?
“Done!” Robert spit into his hand and held it out.
Instead of shaking his hand, he dropped the ten stones onto his palm. He waved over his head and another man came forth. “Have Steiner bring me a barrel of my whisky.”
“The Kelly won’t be pleased.”
“Do not worry about him. I will send Steiner with another of my private stash.”
“Aye.”
Robert stepped aside. “I do not understand why ye would want this one.”
“I do not expect ye to,” replied her new captor.
Fiona’s eyes went wide when her demon took a hold of her rope and walked her away from the crowd.
As soon as they passed the hoard of people, he turned to face her. “What is your name, lass?”
Her tongue felt as if it were plastered to the roof of her mouth.
“Can ye not speak?” he asked.
“Fi…ona…Fiona O’Quinlan,” she
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