Page 60 of Intrigued By A Highlander

“She’ll have a blade in her gut if she doesn’t walk away,” warned the man she had demeaned and whose face raged red.

Dru ignored them, her glare locked on the man. “Let. Her. Go.”

The mercenary held her gaze for a long moment—then shoved the woman aside. She stumbled, barely catching herself before fleeing into the crowd that had gathered.

Dru wasn’t foolish enough to believe their encounter was over. It had only begun.

“Maybe I grabbed the wrong woman,” the mercenary mused, anger fading from his eyes replaced by amusement. “I think I prefer a fiery one and you can see for yourself how wrong your claim was.”

Dru grimaced and shook her head. “I don’t know about that.” She pointed between his legs. “Your shaft can barely hold a salute.”

The man’s crew and the crowd burst out laughing.

Fury turned the man’s face so red that he looked about to explode, and he lunged at Dru.

Dru moved fast, twisting low then rising fast and striking him in the nose with her elbow, blood pouring from it. He grunted, staggered, but recovered quickly. His hand shot out, fingers clamping around Dru’s wrist like an iron shackle.

“Feisty,” he growled, and dragged his sleeve across his bloody nose. “I like that.”

Dru bared her teeth. “You’ll like this too.”

She drove her knee up, aiming for the most vulnerable spot. He twisted at the last second, her strike glancing off his thigh instead.

The mistake cost her.

Pain exploded across her face as he backhanded her. She hit the ground hard, her vision swimming.

Before she could move, he loomed over her, reaching for his blade.

A vicious roar cut through the air—then the heavy thud of a fist meeting flesh.

The mercenary flew backward as if yanked by an invisible force. Knox stood there, his chest heaving, his fingers flexing at his side, and his face carved from ice.

Dru shook off her daze just as another mercenary rushed Knox.

Knox sidestepped the attack and drove his elbow into the man’s gut, following it with a brutal strike to the jaw. The mercenary crumpled.

The remaining two hesitated, eyes darting between Knox and their groaning companions.

Knox took a slow step forward.

“I’d think very carefully about what you do next,” he warned, his voice low, dangerous.

The leader—the one still on the ground clutching his jaw—spat blood. “You’ve made an enemy this day, stranger.”

Knox crouched beside him, gripping the front of his tunic. He yanked the man close, his voice strong for all to hear.

“Knox. The name is Knox.”

Recognition turned the man’s eyes so wide that they looked ready to pop from his head and the other men stumbled back away from him.

“I can tell you’ve heard of me, so you know my reputation. You know I’m a man of my word. You cross me or my wife’s path again, and you’re dead.”

The man swallowed hard.

Knox stood, yanking the man to his feet with him and released him with a shove. “Leave and go far from this place and never—not ever—return here.”

Anxious to leave, the men stumbled over each other, tripping as they rushed out of the village.

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