Blind Allegiance (3 page)

“I despise you,” she hissed.

He chuckled.

She moved around the ring and shoved at the men with all her might.
Immoveable bastards . . .
“Get out of my way!” she demanded through clenched teeth, pounding a soldier’s back with her fists.

“Cease the dramatics or I’ll be forced to restrain you,” her brother threatened.

He would do it. But she didn’t feel like acting like a lady just now. For once, she actually wanted to be more like him and crack skulls. But if she dared strike one of these brutes in the head, the only thing that would break would be her own tiny bones.

“Let me through.”

Surprisingly, two guards stepped aside.

“Is this your idea of defending our home?” she asked, breathless.

“Look around you,” Brian said much too flippantly for comfort, spinning with his arms outstretched. “Are the walls standing? Are father’s men and servants alive? I made a conscious decision to protect our home and assets. Live with it.”

He clasped his hands behind his back.

Ah, the infamous stance he takes after he decides he’s made a brilliant point in an argument and considers the discussion closed.
She resented the fact that she was going to be forced to spend more than a minute in his presence.
Brian reminded her of a squawking gosling running unrestrained. Amused by this illustration, she laughed out loud. He frowned disapprovingly and raised his hand to silence her.

“You’d sacrifice thirty of our men to these heathens?” Noelle asked.

“Before you so rudely interrupted our negotiations, I decided to reject that particular demand.”

“Oh.” She nodded approval. It troubled her to see her people forced to sit in the same room with these savages,
witnessing these demoralizing proceedings. “Where is Ophelia?”

Brian coughed, then motioned her away.

“Did I ask something so personal you refuse to answer me in public?” She stared suspiciously.
And to think he’s actually admired in the northlands
by some men.

“This is a delicate matter.” He gripped her right arm and dragged her further away from earshot. The Norse seemed unconcerned, but still kept watch.

He stopped near an east-facing window. Distressed over what he might say, Noelle blocked him out of her mind for a moment and prepared for the worst. She stared into the darkness outside. Thinly threaded moonlight reflected off the water.

She faced him. “All I want to know is where Ophelia is. Whatever else you decide is your own business. Is she in her room or in the kitchen with the servants?”

Peace could never be achieved between them. No matter what he did or how he accomplished it, Brian
always
looked out for himself first. Some men were honored in their lifetimes for observing laws of chivalry. Others were revered for displaying talent as diplomats or distinguishing themselves on the battlefield. In any of these ways, a man gains the respect of his peerage. Not Brian. He displayed no such talent, but his cunning was of an evil sort. Like the serpent’s in Eden.

His gaze traveled up her body and rested on her face. “Ophelia . . .” His body language suggested the worst. He didn’t need to finish his calculated lies, she shrieked.

She slammed her hands against her sides as long-suppressed emotions came rushing back. He had played her false from the moment she had arrived. Avoiding truth to keep her pacified.

“An accident,” he finished, disregarding her outburst. “She suffered injuries in the fight this morning.”

Empty words—not an ounce of compassion laced his voice. Under any other circumstances, she would have flung herself on the floor and wept. Instead, she felt numb all over. Noelle chewed on her bottom lip and imagined what it would feel like to beat him to a bloody pulp.

“Who
murdered
her?”

He stared through her, oblivious to her presence.

Roiling emotions cramped inside her gut. “
Who
killed Ophelia?” Noelle threaded her fingers through Brian’s in an effort to regain his attention.

He turned, fingered a strand of her hair, and sniffed it. “So pretty . . .” he mumbled.

“What happened?”

“I’ll tell you. We were attacked in the middle of the night and I was caught with my breeches down like a mindless boy. Half the guards were drunk, and the others barely put up a fight. So I accepted the terms these bloody bastards offered—a way out. Instead of dying, we were spared.” His poor excuses did nothing to aid his cause.

Although he hadn’t exactly answered her question, he seemed to be getting closer to a legitimate response. Perhaps if she manipulated him just enough, tweaked his delicate ego in just the right way, she might get the answer she needed.

“If father fails to acknowledge your success, tell him he’s a fool for overlooking everything you’ve done to preserve us.”

He shook his head. “I failed
plain and simple, Noelle. Sometimes a man’s honor is stripped away forever if he exercises poor judgment in such matters.”

“Ophelia is dead.” This reality had hardly started to sink in as she feigned a smile. “The rest of us are alive because of
you
.”

“Ophelia?” His voice grew markedly agitated, most likely brought on by the mention of their sister’s name. “You’re so obsessed with one set of circumstances you fail to see the depth of our troubles. The dead are already dead, I can’t change that. As tragic as it is, father is only concerned about one of us.”

Bleeding a rock was easier than getting answers out of him.

“His
only
heir is alive and well,” she said matter-of-factly, biting back tears that pained her eyes.

He rewarded her last observation by gawking at her as if she were the village idiot. “You really are the most stupid girl.” He clutched her hand, applied pressure between the base of her thumb and ring finger until it hurt.

“You have no idea why our father is really in Ireland do you? Sweet, naïve, Noelle, always walks around with her head in the clouds. When is the last time you actually admired yourself in the looking glass? I’d wager a bit of gold and say never. Ophelia and Margaret are lovely, but you are the rare gem. A diamond in the rough as father likes to say. You’re in desperate need of a firm hand and a punishing ride in the sack to break your spirit, but a splendid girl by any man’s standards.”

Noelle’s jaw dropped.

“I was counting on your bride price father was going to collect from your future husband in Ireland to finance a larger army next year. And now you’ve ruined my chances by flaunting yourself before the Norse chieftain like a whore.” He jerked her toward the wall and flattened her left cheek against the stone. “You disobeyed my orders. Instead of staying in the woods with, Margaret, you pursued your own interests. I believe you
wanted
to attract his attention, to find a way out of here.”

“Who? I have no idea what you’re talking about. And why on God’s green earth would father go to such extraordinary measures to find a husband for me when he has two elder daughters to forge alliances with
?
”

The freezing stone numbed her face. Instead of answering her question, Brian twisted her arm and bent her wrist back until she let out a yelp.

“Deceptive little bitch.”

He let go, and she faced him. The whites of his eyes were bloodshot.

He grabbed a handful of hair and snapped her so close she could smell ale on his breath. “No matter where you go, I’ll hunt you down.” He bashed the back of her head against the window frame. “I’ll hunt you down and kill you!”

Cringing from his brutal words, Noelle finally burst. Through the blur of tears, she saw a warrior of tremendous proportion storm across the hall. He seized Brian’s arm and pried his fingers loose from her hair. She heard a loud snap as he curled Brian’s arm behind his back. Her brother stumbled and hollered, then dropped to his knees.

“Say it,” the colossal warrior demanded, visibly applying more pressure to his hand.

Brain tried to wrestle him down, but the stranger was larger and stronger—controlled him with little effort.

Although she detested her brother, her first instinct was to protect her own flesh and blood. Yet, it seemed a fitting punishment. Let Brian suffer the same mortification she felt whenever he embarrassed her, which happened too often.

Brain quit struggling. “Mercy,” he begged.

The Viking released him, and Brian staggered to his feet as gracelessly as a drunk.

“Is this how you treat your own kinswoman?” her rescuer asked.

“She’s faithless—no blood of mine. We’ve made our bargain Norseman, take her.” He stood rooted in place like a stubborn mule and faced her. “You’re a whore.” His words ripped through her.

How quickly he turned on her like a rabid dog. And for no good reason. Now he spoke about a bargain she knew nothing about and called her horrible names . . .
Ophelia is dead and her murderer is walking freely amongst us, but my soulless brother speaks of anything else. Where is her body?
Noelle’s anguish increased.

“So long as I serve a purpose I am your blessed sister, but the moment an opportunity is lost, you cast me aside like trash. What have I ever done to deserve this treatment?”

Brian threw his head back and laughed, then stared her down. “You killed my mother.”

Heart splayed-open, she felt dead inside—like she had slammed into a brick wall at a full run. Noelle covered her ears in an attempt to block out his vicious words. Blaming her because their mother died after giving birth to her was simply the cruelest thing he’d ever done. How can anyone hold her responsible for something she had no control over?
Cuts and bruises always heal, but a wicked tongue destroys
.

“Never again,” she vowed.

“Never what?” Brian repeated mockingly.

“What happened to Ophelia?”

The giant wedged himself between them as if he were preventing a fistfight. She didn’t like the stranger standing so close and backed away. His gray eyes washed over her like a torrent of hot water.

“He’s unworthy of your devotion, failed to tell you the truth—why
he
killed your sister.”

She nearly howled as her eyes flitted between them. Who should she believe?
Why would this man lie? But how could Brian be guilty of killing Ophelia?

“Tell me,” she pleaded. “Convince me this is all just a misunderstanding.”

Brian ignored her, made no attempt at denial. He stared at the Norsemen with a lurid expression that made her insides churn. She wanted to run far away. Instead, she only wandered a few feet. She stopped in front of the windows again and watched the sunrise.

Noelle wanted answers. She whipped around and stalked across the hall with one man on her mind. She stopped in front of John. “Tell me, does the Norseman speak truthfully?”

The old soldier nodded, sadly. All the guards agreed. Regardless, she went down the line one by one just to confirm it. And after she finished with them, she looked upon the women. She shook her head.

“You shall not commit murder.
”
She recited the sixth commandment over and over again to keep herself from committing violence against her brother. Just barely, she managed to restrain herself.

The world altered as sunlight seeped into the hall through the windows. Evidence of fire and bloodshed was much clearer in the light. The thick beams near the stairs were charred black and damaged more severely than anywhere else in the room. Floorboards and flagstones were stained in pools of dry blood. Stones in the main hearth—the loveliest feature in the room—were chipped and broken. Chairs and tables upturned in corners and tapestries her mother painstakingly collected from all over the world were shredded or singed.
The house of Sinclair is finally reduced to ash and rubble to reflect the emotional ruins we’ve lived in for years.

She closed her eyes, willing the image of a perfect life into her head. Her mother alive—four children lovingly gathered at her feet. And her doting father eating nearby at the high table with a twinkle in his eyes. It was a heart wrenching fantasy.

Noelle returned to Brian’s side. He wore his customary arrogance like a war medal. Time stopped and everything moved in slow motion. Her eyes were painfully dry from lack of sleep, itched like they were filled with gravelly dirt. Her hair and clothing reeked of smoke and sweat, and her lungs ached. There was nothing worth saving in this cursed house—honor be damned. Not sire or friend could comfort her right now.

“Why?” she finally asked.

“Ophelia risked our lives by retaliating. Even after the truce was made, she stabbed one of their captains. I put her out of her misery once and for all.”

She swallowed yet another scream and flew at him, prepared to use the only weapons she possessed. Like a feral cat, she dug and scratched his face, intending to scar him for life. Brian recoiled and blotted his cheek—shocked at the wet stain on his hand. She raced behind him
and jammed her fists into his spine—punching him over and over again.

He whirled. His heavy boot connected with her belly and sent her flying backward. She crashed to the floor and stared up at the ceiling in a daze. It had been a moment of foolish rage to think she could retaliate so boldly without him winning the fight. He abused women—sisters and lovers alike. A burst of pain broke her thought and she rolled onto her side, crunching her knees into her chest for relief.

She raised her head in time to see the Viking circling Brian like a predator stalking its prey before the kill. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword. Maybe he wanted to cut Brian’s head off.
Do it.
He was the most polarizing force in her life.
Rid us of this disease. Everything he touches withers and dies.

He chanted something in that malignant tongue she’d heard him speak before and backhanded Brian so hard he stumbled several feet. Brian didn’t move again. But they stared hard at each other, rage arched between them. Then the Viking half-walked and half-shoved him across the room. Women along the east wall parted and scampered for safety. He didn’t stop until the back of Brian’s head hit the wall. Not giving her brother an opportunity to recover, the Viking punched him in the face and Brian’s legs buckled. He landed another blow, kicking him to the floor with a fluent sweep of his right leg.