Page 11 of Claimed
Spine stiffening, Drew met his gaze. “Do we know each other?”
“No,” he drawled. “Ye don’t know me … but I know ye well enough. I used to watch ye riding out on hunts with yer brother, with yer nose stuck in the air like ye were too good for the rest of us.”
Cold washed over Drew. The hostility in the man’s voice was impossible to miss. The urge to flick a pleading glance in Broderick’s direction rose within her, but she forced it down. She wasn’t the sort of woman to let a man intimidate her. She’d stood up to Duncan enough times over the years—even knowing he’d strike her for voicing her opinion. She wouldn’t let this man cow her.
However, she didn’t answer him. She merely held his gaze, waiting for him to back away from the booth.
He didn’t.
“The lady is occupied.” Broderick spoke up then, his voice cool and dispassionate. “I suggest now that ye have made yer greetings ye leave her to finish her supper in peace.”
The stranger ignored the guard, his gaze never straying from Drew.
“Duncan MacKinnon wronged me and my kin,” he growled. “He hanged my brother for poaching his deer, and he emptied our stores of grain so that we all nearly starved two winters ago.”
Drew swallowed. She was sorry to hear that, yet voicing such sympathies wasn’t appropriate here. This man hadn’t come for an apology.
“My Da got so thin after the lean winter that he sickened and died,” the stranger continued. “With his dying breath, he begged me to make MacKinnon pay for what he did to us.”
Drew’s breathing slowed, foreboding feathering down her spine. Indeed, this man had good reason to bear a grudge.
The man leaned toward her, his odor almost overpowering. “I always swore I’d have my reckoning upon him,” he growled, “but the weasel went and got himself killed, before I had the chance.”
Drew still didn’t say a word. There was nothing she could say that wouldn’t make her look insincere. She could feel this man’s hostility emanating off him in waves now. Behind him, she saw his friends at the table rise to their feet and move toward him. All eyes in the common room now seemed fixed upon Lady Drew and her guard.
Likewise though, Broderick’s six warriors abandoned the remains of their suppers and tankards of ale and stood up.
Even the harpist had stopped playing.
Drew’s heart began to thud against her ribs.Lord, no … they’re going to start a brawl.
“No fighting in here,” the inn-keeper called out from across the room. There was a shrill edge to his voice. “Take it outside.”
“Nothing to say, eh, Lady Drew?” The stranger’s mouth twisted. He ignored the inn-keeper, ignored everyone except Drew. The intensity of his stare made a lump form in the pit of her belly. “I thought ye would be feistier … but ye will react soon enough.”
With that, a meaty hand shot out, grabbed her by the upper arm, and hauled her out of the booth. “Duncan MacKinnon is out of my reach now, but ye aren’t. Tonight ye shall be my whore … upstairs with ye!”
6
An Enigma
CHAOS ERUPTED WITHINThe King’s Arms.
Carr Broderick launched himself from his seat, and his men pounced too. Fists flew and rough shouts boomed up into the rafters. The harpist let out a shriek and cowered against the wall.
“No fighting in here! No fighting!” The inn-keeper yelled, his voice barely audible above the din.
A wave of dizziness crashed over Drew, her breathing coming in panicked gulps. Her attacker’s grip on her arm was bruising as he towed her across the floor. However, a moment later he released her, for Broderick barreled into him, knocking him back across the nearby table. Knucklebones and tankards of ale scattered, yet Broderick was oblivious.
He went straight for Drew’s assailant’s throat.
Drew staggered, fear turning her limbs to porridge. She lurched toward the booth, crawling back into it in an effort to get out of the fracas. Her fingers curled around the knife she’d been using to cut up her supper. If that man came at her again, she’d use it on him.
But it appeared that Broderick had the situation under control.
She’d never seen her guard in a real fight before. She had watched him spar with the other warriors in the bailey a few times over the years, and knew he was quick on his feet, but his savagery now shocked her.
Despite that the man who’d attacked her was well over six-foot, dwarfing most men in the room, Broderick had him pinned to the table and was slamming his fist repeatedly into his face. Around him, the rest of her escort were grappling with the man’s friends.
