Page 4 of Highland Secret
“About time ye fill our tankards lass, I can nearly see the bottom.”
She needed to concentrate on the task at hand.
“Well, that won’t do,” she responded quickly. Awareness of a dark and vital energy shimmered through her very blood.
“Speaking ofbottoms, isna’ that the finest English arse ye’ve seen, Angus?” Even through her skirts the sharp swat stung her backside.
She whirled on them. “How dare you!” Both men laughed uproariously at her outraged expression.
“Come now, lass, we’re just enjoyin’ yer charms a little.” His hand snaked out and tweaked her nipple.
“You keep your hands off me!” She brandished her tray like a shield. “This is a reputable establishment and I am a respectable maid.” Blushing as she noted the curious glances from patrons about the nearby tables, she prayed she wouldn’t be dismissed for creating a disturbance. She squared her shoulders. No matter, her dignity was her only possession and she refused to relinquish it to the likes of him.
Angus’ dirty brown eyes narrowed as a perverse smile touched his lips, “Ye can bejustas respectable perched upon here, my lady!” he crowed, while snaring her in a painful grip and yanking her down upon his lap. Evelyn gasped as hiserection ground into her backside. Gagging as his foul breath hit her face, she froze like a rabbit caught in a snare. “Show a downhearted warrior some warmth before he goes inta battle on the morn.”
“No.” The whispered plea sounded feeble to her own ears. The jeers of his clansmen dashed her hopes for assistance.
“You doona mean ‘no’. Give us a kiss.”
“Take your hands off metraitor.” She hissed, then reared back and slapped him, putting all of her anger and humiliation into the blow. Pain shot up her arm. Disgusted, she realized she’d hurt herself more than she’d hurt him. “We wouldn’t even be going into battle on the morrow if the MacKay had held their ground as they’d sworn to do!” She surged against his painful grip.
Pushed to the ground by vicious hands, her eyes flared as Angus loomed over her.
“Iknowof your treachery Angus Mackay.” Her tone lowered to just above a whisper, the voice of prophecy spilling from her lips before she could stop it. “The shadow of death resistseveryman at this table, even though they go to battle in the morning. Why do you bargain with the enemy?”
Angus’ eyes widened in stunned disbelief, as did those of his clan who were within earshot. “I’ll cut out your tongue, you English witch!” His fist rose above his head, closed and ready to strike.
Protect your face, cover your eyes.Evelyn braced herself for the blow. She knew what came next: blood, swelling, explosive pain.
The smell of leather, horses, and fields of heather wafted by on a sultry breeze followed by a sickening crunch and a bellow… yet she felt nothing.
The room fell utterly silent.
Chapter 4
Cracking an eyelid open, Evelyn drew in a shocked breath as she looked up, and up.
Roderick stood between her and the Mackay with Angus’ wrist caught in a crippling hold.
“Ye’ve broken me arm!” the man cried. Shock and pain etched in his dirty features as he squirmed in the unyielding grip.
Roderick’s lips pulled back into a silent snarl, murderous rage etched into his savage features as he held the other man effortlessly immobile. Angus’ arm bent at an unnatural angle.
A Mackay kinsman bravely stepped forward. “All right! All right, man, we’ll leave the wench alone! Doona be crippling another sword arm when they’re sorely needed.”
The berserker remained motionless.
The room seemed to hold its collective breath. Expectant fascination and unease permeated the moment. Would he berserk in the middle of Moorland’s common room?
Tentatively, Evelyn reached out and touched his leg. “Really, milord,” she murmured. “Tis finished now. No harm done.” A dark part of her wanted to see him break each Mackay finger that touched her. She squelched the vindictive feeling,somehow knowing if she voiced the hideous request, it would be immediately carried out.
Through the buttery leather trews, she felt a quiver of solid muscle beneath her fingertips. She could sense his reluctance to liberate his quarry, and the self-control it took to do her bidding.
With infinite slowness, he released the squirming Mackay.
The fluid grace of his movements was astonishing for someone his size. He turned and lifted her to her feet as though she weighed nothing.
After performing a cursory inspection which, despite its brevity, left her feeling naked and vulnerable, he met her gaze.
