Page 87 of Irish Betrayal

Not willing to spend more than a few minutes scrubbing, she quickly turned up the heat until a nice steam started and lathered a washcloth with the homemade soap she and her mother had made during the holidays.

In less than a minute, Blair washed and rinsed. She shut off the water and was drying off when she finally focused on what was in front of her.

“Peter! Get. Out. What the hell are you doing?” She quickly wrapped the thick, white cotton towel around the front of her body, brushing several damp curls from her cheeks.

He stood there devoid of any emotion, which was more frightening than if he’d yelled. “I disabled the lock two days ago.”

Before he snatched her from the airport. It frightened Blair that he had prepared as well as he had.

“I don’t give you permission to look at me when I’m not dressed,” she said, trying to sound stern but afraid the quaver in her voice destroyed her authority.

Blair had known Peter for nine years. She had seen him excited, happy, proud, angry, really everything but never emotionless. He was looking at her like he was looking through her.

Cold. Frigid.

“Why are you fat? Why is your stomach rounded? You’ve only ever been slim.” Without warning, he closed the distance between them and grabbed her wrists, slamming them above her head into the tiled wall.

He yanked the towel from her body. “Why have your breasts changed?”

Blair whimpered in fear as he brushed the fingers of one hand down her chest and over the swell of her belly.

“Tell me, my girl,” he demanded.

“Tell me,” he said again, placing his hand around her throat.

forty-one

COLL BARR

“I’m sorry. I lost my head,” Daniel apologized.

“Not necessary,” was all Coll could manage.

Coll didn’t want an apology. He didn’t want anything in that moment except to have his arms wrapped around his daughter.

He’d failed Blair. Christ, but he’d failed her. Coll could endure just about anything except for that.

He’d spoken to Peter Samson. Thanked him for his interest in Blair.

Coll stood leaning against one of the back walls of the plane; Daniel was the only one brave enough, or dumb enough, to be near him.

Catriona read the entries and hadn’t said a word since. Laith was sitting guard by her. Both Lochlann and Laith looked confused and worried. Laith knew that they’d found out something about his sister. Coll didn’t want him to know. Hell, he hadn’t wanted his wife to know, but she wouldn’t take no for an answer.

Bran, Ulf, Raven, and Rowan were stoically staying quiet, though they were probably all smart enough to know the gist of what they’d found in Blair’s diaries.

The last entry haunted Coll. It would haunt him forever.

“She blames herself,” Coll murmured to Daniel, low enough that no one could hear.

Daniel’s eyes were red, his shock of white hair standing on end. “All these years,” Daniel stopped, swallowing deeply.

“How does she not hate me?” Coll asked the question rhetorically, but Daniel answered.

“Blair is smarter than that. We will find her, and that man will pay for what he’s done. Samson must have done something four months ago that finally allowed Blair to see him for what he was. I wish she wouldn’t have run, but I understand why she did now.”

Coll’s phone rang. “It’s Thomas,” he announced loud enough for the other passengers to hear.

“What do you have?” Coll asked, putting the phone on speaker.