Page 70 of The Icy Highlander's Virgin
"Shut up!" The words exploded from Duncan's lips an instant before his hand whipped across her face.
The slap cracked like thunder in the morning air, the force of it snapping her head to the side and sending her staggering. Painbloomed across her cheek, sharp and immediate, and she tasted blood where her teeth had cut the inside of her mouth.
Behind her, Hayden whimpered in terror.
"What do ye think ye're doin' to me bride?"
The voice that cut through the garden was cold as winter death. Erica looked up through watering eyes to see Lachlan emerging from the shadows between the outbuildings, his face a mask of lethal calm.
Duncan went white as fresh snow.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Lachlan had been searching the grounds for his wife when he heard the commotion from the kitchen gardens. The sound of raised voices, a child's frightened cry, and then Erica's voice cutting through the morning air like a blade.
He moved swiftly toward the noise, rounding the corner just in time to see Duncan's hand crack across his wife's face with enough force to send her stumbling.
The world went red.
Every rational thought fled from his mind, replaced by a fury so pure and primal it consumed everything else. This was his wife. His woman. And that bastard had dared to lay hands on her.
Duncan was still sneering at Erica, still holding her arm in what looked like a painful grip, when Lachlan exploded into motion.
"What do ye think ye're doin' to me bride?"
His voice was deadly calm, but his body was already launching forward like a predator striking prey. Duncan had just enough time to turn, his face going white with terror, before Lachlan's fist connected with his jaw.
The blow lifted Duncan clean off his feet and sent him crashing into the garden wall. Stone chips scattered as his body landed with bone-crushing force.
"Lachlan, wait—" Duncan tried to speak through blood and broken teeth, but Lachlan was already on him again.
"Ye struck me wife," Lachlan snarled, hauling Duncan up by his shirt front only to slam his fist into the man's ribs. The crack of bone was audible. "Ye put yer hands on what's mine."
Duncan swung wildly, his fist glancing off Lachlan's shoulder, but the desperate blow only fueled the laird's rage. Another punch, this one to Duncan's stomach, doubled him over with a strangled gasp.
Another punch, this one to Duncan's stomach, doubled him over with a strangled gasp.
"Fight back, ye coward!"
Duncan wheezed, struggling to his feet and throwing a harder punch that caught Lachlan in the jaw.
Lachlan's head snapped back, but he only smiled grimly. "Ye bloody coward. Yer punches only land hard on lasses and bairns?"
Lachlan's knee came up to meet Duncan's face, snapping his head back in a spray of blood.
Duncan collapsed to his knees, but Lachlan wasn't finished. He grabbed his cousin by the hair and yanked his head back, his other fist drawn back for another devastating blow.
"Please," Duncan wheezed, blood streaming from his nose and mouth. "Forgive me, Forgive me?—"
"Forgive ye?" Lachlan's laugh was devoid of any warmth. "Ye've nae yet started beggin for forgiveness."
His fist was already moving when strong hands grabbed him from behind.
"Lachlan! That's enough!" Frederick's voice was sharp and urgent as he tried to pull the laird back. "Ye'll kill him!"
Lachlan spun around, his fist connecting with Frederick's jaw purely by instinct. His captain staggered backward, one hand going to his face with a rueful expression.
"Christ, man," Frederick said, working his jaw experimentally. "I forgot how hard yer punches land."
