Chapter 35
Lachlan stared deeply into Maeve's eyes as if willing her to hear his thoughts. He could hardly believe how calm and unafraid she was. The fate glaring harshly at her was every woman's greatest nightmare, and yet, here stood Maeve, poised, self-confident, proud. He should have been prepared for her next words, but he wasn't, and when she spoke them to him in her soft, yet cutting voice, he nearly recoiled.
"Do as they wish," she said in their native tongue. "It is merely a body, Lachlan."
Lachlan stepped back, away from the slash of the harsh words, only to feel the tip of a sword in his back urging him forward. "No, Maeve," he said in ancient Gaelic. "I would rather die than harm you."
"Oh look," the commander said, bemused. "They're barking those ugly sounds they call language. Well then, Druid priestess, when he thrusts his magic wand into you, I want to hear your pleasure as well as your pain in the only civilized tongue. Do you understand?"