Page 6 of Kilted Hate

Och, well. That was a waste o’ me time.

After watching her struggle for several more minutes, Domhnall was growing impatient, and noting where the ground looked more solid, he placed a foot there and leaned forward. Slipping his arms under her knees and behind her back, he lifted her with no effort at all.

His action obviously surprised her, for she gasped, automatically wrapping her hands around his neck. He watched her cheeks bloom red with anger, and yet, she did not complain, nor did she fight him off.

Once back on firm ground, Lady de Beaumont brushed herself down, but in doing so, only spread the mud that was alreadyon her hands all over her clothes. Without looking at him, she hissed, “Thank you.”

“Aye, well. Someone had tae dae it or ye’d still be there by night fall. Now, as I was?—”

“Just because you laid your hands on me, without my permission, I might add, does not give you the right to speak to me,” she spat. “We will be on our way to the castle now. I’m sure you…” she struggled to find a word as her eyes roved his person in disgust, “…men, have other things to do…”

Behind Domhnall, Kai was tittering, clearly finding this entire situation hilarious. Domhnall supposed he couldn’t blame him. It was funny in its ridiculousness. If the woman would just let him speak.

“I’ve finished me ditch-digging today,” he countered sarcastically, “but I’d be happy tae throw ye back intae that puddle if ye carry on being so rude.”

“You are impertinent, aren’t you? I wonder what your laird would think if he knew you were speaking to me in such a manner.”

Domhnall was getting a little frustrated by her arrogance, and spinning to look at her, he said, “If ye dinnae watch yer tongue, I’ll lock ye in the laird’s dungeons.”

“I hardly think so,” she laughed mirthlessly. “My betrothed,” she spat the word with obvious venom, “would never let a barbarian like you put a hand on me.”

“Is that right?” Domhnall said, taking a long step towards her. With no hesitation, he picked her up and threw her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“Argh,” she shrieked. “Put me down. Put me down this minute.”

The soldiers went to move, but Kai and Magnus jerked their swords towards them threateningly.

Domhnall then turned to speak to the Englishmen.

“Yer charge needs tae think before she opens that pretty little mouth o’ hers. Ye see, this rude barbarian, is nay other than her future husband.”

The soldier’s faces dropped, and behind him, he could hear Lady de Beaumont gasp again.

“And believe me when I say, I have nay problem at all locking her in me dungeons. Perhaps while she’s in there, she can learn some manners. The cold, dark cells might even teach her, her place.”

CHAPTER THREE

“Put me down,” Katherine screamed, pummeling her fists into the laird’s back. “Put me down this minute.”

Of course, Laird Domhnall MacLeod did no such thing, and instead, actually laughed as he continued to carry her.

“This is unacceptable. How dare you humiliate me like this in front of everyone,” she bellowed.

She squirmed to free herself, while at the same time, continuing with her aggressive attack on his back, but the man did not flinch. Even in her fury, she was not really surprised. He was a great big oaf, and clearly, as strong as an ox. But nor could she believe he would treat her in such a way.

Knowing she was a lady, and not one of the wenches he was likely used to, he had still lifted her over his shoulder with no regards for her dignity. She could feel her cheeks burning, bothwith anger and humiliation, for the men who were with her had no choice but to look on helplessly. How was she supposed to look them in the eye after this?

“Put me…”

But as she felt his hands on her waist, she didn’t get to finish her demand, for a second later, she was on her feet, standing between the laird and a fine-looking horse. Behind him, the guards who had accompanied her on the long journey across the island were already clambering back onto their own horses, and the two men who had arrived with the laird now walked towards them.

“Turn around,” the laird said.

Katherine frowned and looked confused.

“Ye’re riding with me,” he replied.

Katherine shook her head and was about to protest, when once again, he took her by the waist and ignoring her gasps, lifted her onto the saddle. A second later, he hooked his foot into the stirrup, and throwing his leg over the broad back of the horse, landed directly behind her.

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