Page 25 of The Beast's Bride
“I follow yer father,” Taran replied. His tone was flat, completely devoid of emotion. “I’ll not betray him. He bid me to bring ye home, and I will.”
“Get away from me,Beast,” Rhona snarled. Fear pulsed through her now, not of Taran but of having her freedom torn from her when she’d only just tasted it.
She watched him halt, his body stiffening at the insult. Rhona stilled too. She’d heard others name him such at Dunvegan, but she had never called him ‘Beast’ before. In other circumstances she’d have felt sorry for it. Yet not now, not when he stood between her and a new life.
She took another, quick, step back from him then, desperate to widen the distance between them. A heartbeat later her foot caught on a root, and she stumbled. With a cry, Rhona fell backwards.
He was on her in an instant.
She never knew such a big man could move so fast.
Rhona tried to fight him off, pushing back against the heavy body that slammed into her, but he was too strong, too fast. Desperate, she drove her knee up, aiming for his cods. During their training Taran had told her numerous times to strike a man there if attacked. But she couldn’t lift her knee as he now leaned his weight over her body, crushing her into the dirt. His hands fastened like iron shackles around her wrists, pinning them to the ground.
“Bastard!” She spat the insult at him. “Let me go!”
“Do ye promise to behave yerself if I do?” His voice was low, and—did she imagine it—tinged with wry amusement.
Fury surged within Rhona, but she swallowed it. “I promise … just get off me. Ye are crushing my ribs.”
He moved then, rolling off Rhona and rising to his feet with a speed that unnerved her. She’d forgotten that Taran MacKinnon could move with frightening swiftness. She should have remembered that, for she’d sparred with him often enough over the years.
A heartbeat later Taran reached down, took Rhona by the arm, and pulled her to her feet. She was not a frail or tiny woman, and yet he lifted her as if she weighed nothing.
The moment Rhona was on her feet she reacted. As he’d taught her, just days earlier, she twisted, shoved herself against him, and threw her head back. She wanted to head-butt him, break his nose. But, once again, Taran thwarted her.
He grabbed hold of her wrists and yanked them behind her, pressing them into the small of her back.
“That was a half-arsed attempt, Lady Rhona. I hope if someone really intends to do ye harm, ye would do better than that.” He then started fastening a cord around her wrists. “Ye have to be ready to hurt yer attacker,” he chided. “That move wouldn’t have fought off even old Niall, the rat-catcher.”
Rhona let forth a string of gutter curses—words she'd personally never uttered to anyone before. None were insults befitting a high-born young lady. “Ye have no right to tie me up like a hog,” she gasped at the end of the rant.
“Ye made me a promise,” Taran replied, completely unruffled by her venom, “and ye broke it. I’ll not trust yer word again.”
Rhona fell silent, shocked that a warrior who had indulged her, even gone against her father's wishes in order to train her, was so unyielding now. She realized then that he wouldn’t be moved. No amount of yelling, cursing, and threats would change his mind.
I'm going home.
Tears welled in Rhona’s eyes. She couldn't bear it. He was taking her back to Dunvegan.
“Ye don't understand, Taran.” She choked out the words, letting her despair show. “I want to choose my own husband. Who knows what man will win the games? I could end up wedded to a brute.”
“I’m sorry for ye, Lady Rhona.” Taran took her by the arm and guided her back to the tree where she'd been sheltering before his arrival. There he gently pushed her down into a sitting position. “But ye cannot run away like this. It won’t change anything. Ye will only make MacLeod angry.”
Rhona's mouth twisted. “And what would ye have me do instead?”
Taran didn’t answer that. Instead, he moved over to a nearby tree and settled down. Although she couldn’t see his face, Rhona could just make out the gleam of his eyes as he watched her.
Silence stretched between them for a while, broken only by the hoot of a distant owl, before Taran spoke again. “It’s not an easy fate,” he began quietly, “to be a clan-chief’s daughter. Did ye ever consider taking the veil? You could go to Kilbride?”
Rhona huffed. “How long do ye think I’d last before the abbess cast me out? A day?”
Taran answered with a soft snort. “A week … at least.”
Chapter Twelve
Nothing Good
AS SOON AS the first rays of sun spilled over the edge of the mountains to the east, Taran packed up camp, and they made for home.
