Page 12 of Scot of Desire
Och, nae that is impossible… In the name of the wee man, how long has me heart been Ilyssa’s? How am I only understanding this now?
“I said, nay.” Bran was firm this time, his voice so harsh that the girl actually stepped back.
I have tae see her. I have tae see Ilyssa.
With renewed determination, Bran made his way through the crowd. He was trying his best to get to the door when someone suddenly bumped his arm. He looked around, only to find it was the tail-end of some drunkard’s fight. He stepped out of the way, ending up in an alcove, quite separate to the rest of the tavern.
Here, he caught sight of Tad heading up a flight of stairs with the red-haired barmaid. Bran looked away, eager to leave, when something else caught his eye.
Standing by the fire were two women. One had dark hair, one blonde. For a wild second, he thought it was Ilyssa and Catreena, then reasoned that they were both back at the inn, tucked up in bed.
“Come on,” a man leered in front of the dark-haired woman. He was so drunk that he must have not noticed how close he came to bumping noses with her. She leapt back out of his way, clutching onto the mantelpiece of the fire beside her with one hand. “One night, lass? That’s all I ask.”
Whatever the woman’s reply had been, it was lost in the loud clamoring of the tavern and never reached Bran’s ears, though he could intimate well enough her meaning. She had shaken her head most firmly, making sure that what few dark locks had fallen out of her plait danced around her ears.
The man didn’t take no for an answer. He stepped toward her and tried to slide his arm around her waist. The blonde woman pulled on the man’s other arm, trying to push him back.
“Nay!” the word broke through this time from the dark-haired lass, loud and strained as she thrust forcefully in the man’s chest.
He staggered back, startled, yet came at the two ladies again.
Bran walked forward. With determination, he pushed through the people that separated them and reached the two women fast. This close, he could at last hear everything being said.
“I ken some women like tae refuse at first, but trust me, lass.” The man leered down at her. “Lie on yer back with me fer a while, and I’ll show ye what ye would be missin’.”
“Did ye nae hear her?” Bran barked. He stepped forward around the two women.
“Bran?” the squeaking voice drew his attention. Bran jerked his head around to see that the blonde woman was indeed Catreena.Standing by the mantelpiece, her face rather red from the heat of the fire, was Ilyssa.
This man is trying tae push himself on her!
“Back off,” the man grunted in Bran’s direction. “This is between me and the lass.” He stepped toward her again, this time making a grab for Ilyssa’s skirt.
Bran saw red. He wasn’t sure what had come over him.
He could handle himself well enough in a fight. Growing up with three brothers, there was no way he could not learn something of fighting, but he usually opted for diplomacy instead.
Nae today. Only fists will make sense today.
He jumped forward, breathing heavily, and lashed out. He tore the man’s hand off Ilyssa’s skirt, sending her staggering and falling into Catreena’s arms. Then Bran jumped in front of the pair of them, shielding them. As the man rounded on Bran, his nostrils flaring in anger, Bran pulled back with his balled fist and lashed out, landing it straight on the stranger’s nose.
Bone cracked loudly.
“Ah! Me nose. Ye broke me nose!” the cry erupted loudly.
Faces turned in their direction. Some broke off from their drunken laughter to stare.
“Brawl!” another man shouted.
Before Bran could make sense of what was happening, fists were flying at him from all directions. He barely managed to duck in time to dodge the first blow. The second glanced off the side of his head, barely brushing him at all. The third cracked against the mantelpiece, far too slow to keep up with Bran’s movements.
“Get him. Get him!” the man who had approached Ilyssa was demanding loudly.
As all three men came at Bran again, he acted fast. He snatched the poker up from the fireplace and wielded it before him like a sword. He struck the first man in the gut, winding him, so that he fell down like a sack of potatoes. The second man he struck across the shoulder, knocking him into a group of squealing ladies behind him and their drinks. As Bran turned to look at the third man, a short and squat stranger, he clearly thought of his chances and turned away and ran through the crowd like a lamb searching for its mother.
“Out. Now,” Bran barked at Ilyssa and Catreena.
Neither of them argued. They hastened out of the tavern with him behind them, still carrying the poker in case anyone came at them again. The cries of the man with the broken nose still followed them, but no one tried their luck after what had just passed.
