Page 87 of Tempted
“What exactly do you mean, ‘safe from him’? You tell me he has never harmed you, and in fact his only crime is wanting to marry you. And he damned well ought to marry you after hand-fasting you! You’re blind, lass—can’t you see marriage to someone as strong as Douglas is the best thing that could happen to you?”
“You care nothing for me! You care only for your own damned neck.”
He looked at her with exasperated tenderness. “Don’t ever question my love, ‘tis unworthy of you, Tina.”
She flung herself in his arms and sobbed against his shoulder. “You don’t know him, Heath. Somehow he’ll find out where I am, and he’ll stalk me relentlessly until his property is restored. He thinks he owns me! You must be able to understand the anathama of that. To a Gypsy, freedom is life itself! I must be free to decide my own fate. He’ll come, he’ll come,” she insisted.
He stroked her hair to soothe her. “I’m not afraid of Black Ram Douglas.” Before dark descended he had the chance to prove his words.
Ramsay Douglas rode onto the flatland of the River Urr, where the Gypsies were camped. He did not come at a wild gallop, as his nickname Hotspur suggested; rather his speed was slow, sure, deliberate; his expression grim and implacable.
Tina was nowhere in sight, but he knew she was living with the Gypsies because Indigo was corralled with the other horses. Heath saw him come, watched him dismount and tether his horse. Heath’s long, firm strides carried him toward Douglas, away from his caravan, where Tina was safe.
The two swarthy men confronted each other like dogs with hackles raised. The savage expression on the face of Black Ram Douglas would have daunted a less courageous man. Heath spoke first. “Ye can depart in peace or depart in pieces—the choice is yours.”
The challenge was too insulting for one as blood-proud as Douglas With a snarl that bared his teeth, he palmed his knife and lunged toward his rival. Heath did not underestimate him—it wasn’t their first encounter. Heath had drawn his knife by the time Ram launched himself through the air. The initial impact sent the two men sprawling in the dirt, locked in mortal combat. One look into Ramsay’s eyes had told Heath this would be a fight to the finish.
Douglas courted death this night. They smashed and battered each other with their left fists and jabbed and tore with their knifehands. The two were well matched, both young and at their physical peak. Both could endure a great deal of punishment without impairing their ability to destroy an enemy. Douglas wore a leather jack, Heath a sleeveless leather vest. Both garments were slashed open across the heart; both men were bleeding from superficial wounds.
With powerful arms locked, they rolled about the ground, scattering sqawking chickens and barking dogs and frightened, excited children. They rolled into a cooking fire, setting their long hair ablaze, then rolled away from the embers back into the dust, which smothered the flames effectively.
The screams of the children brought Tina to the doorway of Heath’s caravan. The excited cries of, “A fight! A fight!” sent her heart into her throat. She picked up her skirts and ran as fast as she could past the caravans and cooking fires to where the dark silhouettes of the combatants rolled over and over in the shadows. Fear for Heath at the hands of Douglas filled her heart until she thought it might burst. She screamed at them to stop, but it was as if neither of them could even hear her. Because of her, one was going to kill the other. She should never have come, never made Heath vulnerable to the black hatred of Douglas!
She could see how well matched the two were as each inflicted damage yet avoided receiving a fatal knife thrust. She was crying now, begging them to stop, but they would not. The men’s concentration upon each other was so intense, nothing else in the world existed for either of them. The thing that tipped the scales was Ram’s black, unadulterated hatred and jealousy for his rival. With one large boot clamped down upon Heath’s thigh, his powerful hand clamped about Heath’s throat, Ram raised his knife arm high in preparation for the death plunge.
Valentina, uncaring for the danger, recklessly threw herself between Heath and the knife. “Heath is my brother!” she sobbed hysterically. Ram’s knife was deflected toward his own midsection. It jammed against his belt buckle, and the blade snapped in half Ram sat back on his haunches staring down in horror at the girl he had almost impaled.
Her eyes had gone from golden to smoky amber in her distress, and he shook his head to clear his vision of the red mist of hatred that clung like cobwebs. Ram filled his lungs with air, and her words penetrated his brain “Your brother?” he repeated blankly.
“Yes, yes, Heath is my brother, you uncivilized swine!”
Ram Douglas wiped the sweat from his eyes. “You’re Rob Kennedy’s bastard?” he asked the Gypsy.
Heath nodded. “Aye, Kennedy is my father. My mother died in childbirth. She was Old Meg’s daughter.”
As they all got to their feet, Tina was the only one who hadn’t gained a measure of control over her emotions. She slapped Douglas across the face. “You are a bigger bastard than Heath will ever be! You are a savage, brutal animal!”
Ram lifted her by the waist and set her aside. “Is there somewhere private we can talk?” he asked Heath.
The two dark men walked away from her toward the caravans. She stared after them, dashing the tears from her face, trying to swallow the sobs that choked her.
Inside the wagon the two tall figures took each other’s measure as they had done once before. Ram acknowledged the worth of the man who stood before him. He knew that if he himself had ever produced such a son, legitimate or no, he would have seen that he took his rightful place at his side. Heath’s Gypsy blood was responsible for his handsome looks and his courage. His self-reliance was a result of the hardships he’d suffered at an early age. Why had Rob Kennedy not provided him with a castle and settled some land upon him? Ram said simply, “If we both love Tina, we are on the same side.”
Heath said, “She’s always been such a little vixen. I’ve kept an eye on her without smothering the spark of passion that is her essence. I know she’s spoiled and vain and willful, but dammit, she’s magnificent. She’s funny and generous and as courageous as any man. She’s the best one of the litter,” he said with a grin. “We have a sister who is a sniveling little rabbit. Donal and Duncan are good men, but our brother Davie is a nasty little turd.”
“I’m aware,” acknowledged Ram. “I’ve had dealings with him.”
Heath searched Ram’s face. “She tells me this trouble between you cropped up because you want to marry her.”
“I do,” acknowledged Ram.
“The last Kennedy-Douglas union ended in tragedy. Old Meg claims she put the poison in your hands,” said Heath.
“She tells the truth, but I swear tae ye that that poison was meant for wolves for our tenant farmers. That year we lost hundreds of lambs. Even so, I still bear the guilt of carrying the poison tae Douglas.”
Heath nodded, satisfied. “Shed your guilt, man, it serves no useful purpose.” His white teeth flashed in a smile. “Tina is fit for a king, or a Douglas,” said Heath, giving his approval.
Their hands were covered with each other’s blood as they clasped wrists in a pledge.
