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Authors: Mary Morgan
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stammered.
Chapter Ten
“There are times in life when the Fates have woven your life threads into knots. You may stay fixed on that path, or weave another.”
“ O’Quinlan? ” MacKay growled.
Fiona refused to show fear to her new captor. Until this horrid nightmare ceased and she woke, she would pretend it wasn’t real.
“Isn’t that what I said?”
Green eyes glared back at her. “So your brother sold ye. Why?”
She frowned in confusion. “I don’t have a brother.”
“Are ye not kin to the O’Quinlan of Navan?”
She swallowed. Memories of working on the dig in Navan came rushing back. Rory told her to take a walk, which led her wandering into an ancient grove of oaks. What did he tell her? Was it to rest ? Her head throbbed trying to recall his words.
Instinctively, she reached up to rub her temples as best she could. “I have no one,” she muttered.
“Humph! Follow me.”
“Do I have a choice?”
The man kept on walking. “Aye. I can sell ye back.”
Would he do that? In truth, she would rather stay with this man than the other one. She felt safe, if you could call it that. And he wasn’t tugging her along like some sheep.
Gathering up the end of the rope, Fiona followed the man down the path, which curved along the water. Many smaller boats were docked at the edge, some with men, and others empty.
Where in God’s earth was she?
Tripping over a fallen log, Fiona fell flat on her face. “Ouch!”
At once, strong arms pulled her up. His face so close, she could see the dimple in his chin beneath the shadow of his beard. Yet, it was those lips that caught her attention—full and sensual. Lips that could devour a woman. A slight tremor ran down her spine.
Releasing her, he backed away.
“Thanks,” she mumbled. What is wrong with you, Fiona? Did you hit your head?
He drew forth his dirk. “Hold your arms out.”
Confused, Fiona complied. In one swift slice, he cut through her bonds. Rubbing at her wrists, she smiled up at him. “Thank you…again.”
He didn’t respond but turned and walked away.
She quickly followed, keeping her focus more on her footing and not on the man in front of her. They passed several more boats, and then the path narrowed. She halted when the man waved to his crew on a ship alone by the dock.
A Viking ship with a dragon at its bow.
“I’m so not in my Ireland.” She watched as he seemed to be giving orders. Then he turned to face her along with all the other men.
Her feet moved hesitantly forward. Where else could she go?
“Great Odin. What is it?” asked one of the men.
Fiona’s mouth gaped open.
MacKay snorted. “She claims her name is Fiona O’Quinlan.”
Now the man’s mouth fell open and quickly snapped shut. “What have they done to her?”
Her captor or savior shrugged. “Cannae say.”
“Look at her hair and clothes,” interjected another man. “Has she been cast out?”
Then a third man jumped down from the boat and circled around her. “’Tis clothing I have never seen. Perchance, she is one of them.”
Fiona backed away from the men. Good God, they were looking at her like some sort of specimen. She backed right into the arms of a fourth man.
“Whoa, little elf, can I be of service?”
She stumbled away from him, but received a huge smile.
“Do not try and use your charms on her. It is Alastair’s slave,” grumbled the first man.
Alastair pointed at Fiona. “She is not my slave, Gunnar.”
Gunnar crossed his arms over his chest. “Tell me, why did you buy her then?”
Placing his hands on his hips, he glared at all of them. “I will take her back to the O’Quinlan.”
Fiona flinched. What was he saying? Who was this other O’Quinlan?
Something snapped inside of her. “Like hell you will.”
All eyes turned toward her.
She was tired of being passed back and forth, and she was going to take control of this god-awful nightmare. “I’m not going anywhere until you explain where I am,” and
Chapter Ten
“There are times in life when the Fates have woven your life threads into knots. You may stay fixed on that path, or weave another.”
“ O’Quinlan? ” MacKay growled.
Fiona refused to show fear to her new captor. Until this horrid nightmare ceased and she woke, she would pretend it wasn’t real.
“Isn’t that what I said?”
Green eyes glared back at her. “So your brother sold ye. Why?”
She frowned in confusion. “I don’t have a brother.”
“Are ye not kin to the O’Quinlan of Navan?”
She swallowed. Memories of working on the dig in Navan came rushing back. Rory told her to take a walk, which led her wandering into an ancient grove of oaks. What did he tell her? Was it to rest ? Her head throbbed trying to recall his words.
Instinctively, she reached up to rub her temples as best she could. “I have no one,” she muttered.
“Humph! Follow me.”
“Do I have a choice?”
The man kept on walking. “Aye. I can sell ye back.”
Would he do that? In truth, she would rather stay with this man than the other one. She felt safe, if you could call it that. And he wasn’t tugging her along like some sheep.
Gathering up the end of the rope, Fiona followed the man down the path, which curved along the water. Many smaller boats were docked at the edge, some with men, and others empty.
Where in God’s earth was she?
Tripping over a fallen log, Fiona fell flat on her face. “Ouch!”
At once, strong arms pulled her up. His face so close, she could see the dimple in his chin beneath the shadow of his beard. Yet, it was those lips that caught her attention—full and sensual. Lips that could devour a woman. A slight tremor ran down her spine.
Releasing her, he backed away.
“Thanks,” she mumbled. What is wrong with you, Fiona? Did you hit your head?
He drew forth his dirk. “Hold your arms out.”
Confused, Fiona complied. In one swift slice, he cut through her bonds. Rubbing at her wrists, she smiled up at him. “Thank you…again.”
He didn’t respond but turned and walked away.
She quickly followed, keeping her focus more on her footing and not on the man in front of her. They passed several more boats, and then the path narrowed. She halted when the man waved to his crew on a ship alone by the dock.
A Viking ship with a dragon at its bow.
“I’m so not in my Ireland.” She watched as he seemed to be giving orders. Then he turned to face her along with all the other men.
Her feet moved hesitantly forward. Where else could she go?
“Great Odin. What is it?” asked one of the men.
Fiona’s mouth gaped open.
MacKay snorted. “She claims her name is Fiona O’Quinlan.”
Now the man’s mouth fell open and quickly snapped shut. “What have they done to her?”
Her captor or savior shrugged. “Cannae say.”
“Look at her hair and clothes,” interjected another man. “Has she been cast out?”
Then a third man jumped down from the boat and circled around her. “’Tis clothing I have never seen. Perchance, she is one of them.”
Fiona backed away from the men. Good God, they were looking at her like some sort of specimen. She backed right into the arms of a fourth man.
“Whoa, little elf, can I be of service?”
She stumbled away from him, but received a huge smile.
“Do not try and use your charms on her. It is Alastair’s slave,” grumbled the first man.
Alastair pointed at Fiona. “She is not my slave, Gunnar.”
Gunnar crossed his arms over his chest. “Tell me, why did you buy her then?”
Placing his hands on his hips, he glared at all of them. “I will take her back to the O’Quinlan.”
Fiona flinched. What was he saying? Who was this other O’Quinlan?
Something snapped inside of her. “Like hell you will.”
All eyes turned toward her.
She was tired of being passed back and forth, and she was going to take control of this god-awful nightmare. “I’m not going anywhere until you explain where I am,” and
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