Page 22 of The Laird's Vengeful Desire
“Rhona.” His voice grew gentle but implacable. “Either ye let me in tae check that ye’re truly all right, or I send fer the healer tae dae it. Yer choice.”
She glared at him for a moment, then reluctantly stepped back to allow him entry. “Fine. But only ye. The guards stay outside.”
Ian nodded to his men, who retreated to a respectful distance, then he slipped inside the chamber. Rhona immediately moved to put the bed between them, her arms wrapped around herself defensively.
The room showed no signs of disturbance – no overturned furniture, no indication of a struggle. Just a woman who looked like she’d been pulled from sleep by something terrible.
“What happened?” Ian asked gently, studying her face in the firelight.
“I dinnae ken what ye mean.” Rhona’s voice was carefully controlled, but Ian could see the lie in her eyes. “I was asleep until ye came poundin’ on me door like some kind of barbarian.”
Ian stared at her for a moment, baffled by her response. Then, as understanding dawned, amusement began to replace his worry. She was deliberately trying to brazen it out, to pretend nothing had happened.
“Lass,” he said, his lips twitching with suppressed laughter, “three guards heard ye scream. Loud enough that they came runnin’ tae find me. Ye cannae seriously expect me tae believe ye were sleepin’ peacefully through all that.”
“Maybe they were dreamin’,” Rhona said stubbornly.
“All three of them? The same dream?”
“Stranger things have happened.”
Ian couldn’t help it – he started to chuckle. Here was this fierce, proud woman, standing in her nightshift with her falling hair around her shoulders like a fiery waterfall, trying to convince him that half his guard had suffered a mass hallucination, rather than admit what had upset her.
“All right,” he said, playing along. “If ye were nae screamin’, then what woke ye up?”
Rhona’s eyes darted around the room as if searching for inspiration. “There was… a cockroach.”
“A cockroach.” Ian’s kept his voice carefully neutral.
“Aye. A bloody big one. Black as sin and twice as ugly.” She was clearly warming to her story now, gesturing expansively. “It came crawlin’ out from under the dressing table, headin’ straight toward me. Naturally, I was… startled.”
“Naturally,” Ian bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. “And what happened tae this fearsome beast?”
“I chased it away, of course.” Rhona bent down and retrieved one of her shoes from beside the bed. “With this.”
Before Ian could react, she launched into an elaborate pantomime of chasing an imaginary cockroach around the room, wielding her shoe like a weapon. She darted behind the chair, pounced toward the fireplace, and spun in circles as if tracking her elusive prey.
Ian watched in fascination as she threw herself into the act with nothing short of theatrical flair. Her hair streamed behind her as she moved, her nightshift swirling around her legs, and despite the absurdity of the situation, he found himself utterly captivated by her grace and energy.
Finally, Ian couldn’t contain his laughter any more. It bubbled up from his chest in deep, rich waves that filled the chamber. “That was quite a performance, lassie. Ye should consider a career in the theater.”
“I dinnae ken what ye mean.” Rhona said primly, though Ian could see she was fighting her own smile. “I was simply protectin’ meself from a dangerous pest.”
“Of course ye were,” Ian wiped tears from his eyes, still chuckling. “And a fine job ye did of it too.”
Rhona grinned at his amusement, then playfully swung her shoe in his direction. “Are ye mockin’ me methods, Laird Wallace?”
“I wouldnae dare,” Ian laughed, dodging her half-hearted swipe.
“Good, because I’ll have ye ken I’m an expert at dealin’ with all manner of unwanted creatures.” She swung again, this time with more force, and Ian ducked just in time.
“Includin’ overgrown Scottish lairds who dinnae ken when they’re nae wanted?” Ian grinned, catching her wrist as she drew back for another playful strike.
“Especially those,” Rhona retorted, pulling free and aiming another blow at his shoulder.
This time, however, her aim went wide. The shoe connected solidly with the left side of Ian’s face, catching him just above the eye with enough force to make him stagger.
For a heartbeat, Ian felt pain lancing through his skull. He heard Rhona’s sharp intake of breath and he felt the shift in the air as shock replaced her playfulness.
