Page 25 of The Outlaw's Bride
The shock on his face was almost comical.
Adaira flung herself away from him and shoved her weight against the boat, angling it into the surf.
She’d gone two paces when strong arms fastened about her waist and hauled her backward.
“Sorry about this,” Lachlann grunted in her ear, “but I meant it. Ye are staying here for the moment. It would be easier to let ye go yer own way, but ye wouldn’t be safe on yer own. I owe ye that much.”
Adaira spat out a curse, one she’d heard her father make once when his horse stood on his foot, and drove her elbow into Lachlann’s chest.
However, he didn’t let go of her. He yanked her against him, trapping her under one arm, while with the other he grabbed hold of the boat.
Then he turned and dragged them both to shore.
Adaira was hysterical by the time they reached it. Fury pulsed through her, and she forgot fear, forgot anything except the fact that she’d given this man his freedom, and he’d tricked her, used her.
She clawed at him, kicked and wriggled in his grip like an eel. If he was going to take her prisoner, she’d not make it easy for him.
“Adaira … stop it!” Lachlann’s voice held no amusement now. “Ye will only do yerself harm.”
His words didn’t calm her; they only enraged her further. She shouted curses at him, wielding them like sharp boning knives.
They stumbled onto the shingle beach, their boots sinking into the fine grey pebbles. The hull of the rowboat crunched onto the shore as Lachlann let go of it. He needed two-hands to manage Adaira now as she became frenzied.
Fear snaked through her then, penetrating the rage.
What was he planning to do with her? Would he send her back to Dunvegan—back to Aonghus Budge?
How Adaira wished she’d asked Taran to show her how to defend herself against attackers, as he had with Rhona. How she wished she was a man. And as they tumbled to the ground, and Lachlann held her still, pinning her limbs against the pebbles, she cursed her weak woman’s body. Lachlann was much taller and stronger than her.
“Stop it!” Lachlann stared down at her, his green eyes dark with mounting anger. “I mean ye no harm, Adaira. This is only a detour. If ye wish to continue to Argyle, one of my father’s men will take ye.”
She glared up at him, her teeth bared. She didn’t believe him, not after this lie. She never would again.
“I had to return home,” he continued. His handsome face was taut and his gaze narrowed. “My father may be dying—or possibly dead already. I can’t risk one of my brothers taking my place as chieftain.”
Ice washed over Adaira.Ambition. He’d broken his promise to her for purely selfish reasons.
Adaira fought the hands that gripped her wrists. However, she couldn’t budge them an inch. He was sitting on her thighs. She was trapped.
“Serpent,” she hissed. “I trusted ye.”
He gave an exasperated snort. “Well, then ye have just learned a harsh life lesson.” He stared down at her. “Ye won’t trust so easily in future.”
The arrogance of his words momentarily rendered Adaira speechless. Her throat constricted, and her chest felt as if it had a boulder sitting upon it. In the past she might have wept, but she was still too angry. She wished she had her dirk to hand; she’d have stabbed him in the heart with it. Instead, it was in her satchel.
“Come.” He let go of her wrists and heaved himself to his feet. He then retrieved her cloak and satchel from the boat. “We’re wasting time here.”
“No.” Adaira rose to her feet and backed away from him. “I’m not going anywhere with ye.”
Lachlann’s gaze grew hard. “Are ye going to continue to fight me, Adaira?”
“Aye, till my last breath, ye dog!”
He huffed a breath before slinging the satchel across his front and tucking the cloak through it.
“This is yer last chance. Ye either walk up to the fortress with me, or I carry ye up, slung over my shoulder like a sack of oats. Which will it be?”
Adaira spat at him, whirled, and took off down the beach. Seabirds wheeled overhead, their cries sounding like mocking laughter. The soft shingle hampered her gait, slowing her, but she paid it no mind. She had to get away from him. She was in danger here, more so than if she’d stayed at Dunvegan.
