Page 30 of The Lady's Guide to a Highlander’s Heart
Biting back the tears, Flora tried not to listen. Whatever Ragnall’s faults, he’d never intentionally caused her pain; at least, not in the way Calder planned to, but she could hardly argue at how easily Ragnall had given her up.
She heard Calder spit and a blunt finger jabbed between Flora’s cheeks.
Gasping, she flinched away, but his weight prevented her from escaping and she felt the stirrings of his erection press to her bare skin.
* * *
Only the crashof the door hitting the wall saved her.
“’Tis our clansmen from Balmore at the gate, with the laird demanding to see ye, Calder, and the Lady Flora.” The guard seemed little more sober than this master, swaying as he delivered the news.
Cursing, Calder stood, and Flora twisted about. The guard, at least, had the decency to look askance as she shook down her skirts.
“Tell him tae join the feast and I’ll be with him shortly.” Calder glowered. “And get his men tae place their weapons in the keep. ’Tis nae a night for us tae have arms tae hand; nae when the ale is flowing.”
Nodding his assent, the guard exited as swiftly as he’d come.
Calder grimaced, talking more to himself than Flora. “What’s the blaggard want, the noo? No matter, it’ll be me giving him what’s coming.”
With a grunt of irritation, Calder drew out his dirk and cut through the ropes at Flora’s wrists, narrowly avoiding nicking her skin. The relief at being free of the bindings brought a prickle to her eyes as no taunts had been able and she rubbed at her wrists to restore feeling.
Holding the blade before him, Calder threw her a shawl and jerked his head. “Put this aboot ye tae cover the rent in yer bodice. I doubt the laird has come tae do anything other than gloat, but we’ll make ye presentable, shall we, until we see what he’s aboot.” He gave her a hateful grin. “And mind ye nay complain, or I’ll take the cloth from yer back altogether when we return, and ye’ll nae see it again. ’Twill make ye appreciate ma warmth if ye’re obliged tae shiver naked.”
Abhorrence surged through Flora’s veins. The man was distant kin by blood but there was nothing that made him worthy of the Dalreagh name. Her father had been right to sever the betrothal.
Calder was armed and she had nothing but her wits, yet instinct told Flora that she might not have another chance. The chamber pot beneath the bed was still full from yesterday, when Calder had demanded she relieve herself while he watched. Holding it between her legs, he’d laughed as she blushed, and she’d wished then that her hands were free, wanting to hit him over the head with the heavy bowl.
There was nothing to stop her from doing so now. It would only be fitting, since the man was nothing but a turd himself.
With pounding heart, Flora dived to the floor, reaching for the pot, and Calder obligingly took a step closer, bending down to grab her. Flora felt a brief moment of glee as the slops hit him in the face, but she wasted no time in swinging the pot in a calculated arc.
His blasphemous oaths were cut off as the pot connected with his temple.
Though dazed, he still had hold of the dirk and careened towards her, slashing at the air. “Just wait ’til I have hold o’ ye, bitch.” Calder wiped his sleeve across his face. “I’ll cut ye a new gash in yer belly and fuck ye there while ye scream for mercy!”
Picking up her skirts, Flora made a dash for the door, running down the passageway, then taking the stairs two at a time. Her best hope now was to reach the feasting and throw herself on Ragnall’s mercy. Better to be imprisoned at Balmore than here.
Calder would nae be able to hide his bitter mood. Ragnall would see the man was unhinged. He might even believe her suspicion that Calder had been the villainous murderer.
However, as she reached the minstrels’ gallery, she heard a great commotion from below. Ragnall’s men might have laid down their swords but there was a deal of fighting going on. Furniture overturned as men wrestled with one another, but it was clear those loyal to Calder were coming off worst. Amidst the throng, she caught sight of Ragnall and her heart leapt.
Mounting a table, he shouted loud and clear. “Hear me, for I’ve nae wish tae see the blood of kinsmen spilled.”
Though his curls were wilder than ever and his eyes sunken dark, he’d never looked more handsome.
“I hereby take possession o' this castle, and shall treat every man fairly. Calder is nae what ye think him. There shall be a trial, but I believe he murdered Malcolm of Dunrannoch. Lady Flora is innocent of any crime, and is held here against her will. Surrender ma wife and pledge yer fealty, and all shall be well.”
At that moment, he looked up, and the face he turned to Flora softened. Whatever anger was there, it fled before the love that shone from his eyes, directed at the woman who was lawfully his.
“Ragnall!” she called to him, feeling as if she were saying his name for the first time. With beating heart, she began to push through the musicians, to reach the staircase on the other side, but had taken barely a step before an arm came about her throat, lifting her from her feet.
The screech died in her throat as she realized the point of a dirk was pressed hard beneath her lower ribs.
“Shut yer harlot face!” hissed Calder. The scent of urine wafted from him. “Ye’re comin’ wi’ me, and ye’ll do it fast, or I’ll cut ye, like I promised. There be plenty o’ rooms wi’ locks upon them, an’ I can cut ye several holes afore any man of Ragnall’s will break down the door.”
Without waiting for reply, he hauled her back the way they’d come, pulling her the length of the passageway and upwards, climbing the tower stairs, barring each door as they progressed higher.
At the top, Calder kicked open the final barrier and an icy blast swept in, bringing with it a whirl of snow. The cold hit Flora like a punch, rendering her breathless as he dragged her outside.
