Page 64 of Taming the Scot
Bronwen drew in a deep breath, and as she exhaled, she jerked her arm across and up, feeling the prongs of the fork sink into their mark as her arm jarred from the forceful attack. Hector screamed, but before he could slice at her neck, Euan was on him, wrestling the knife away. Bronwen scrambled across the cabin to see that her fork had landed smack in the middle of his eyeball.
“Ye bitch!” Hector shrieked, his hand reaching and then falling away from the fork over and over. Blood dripped down his cheek. “My eye! Ye bloody stabbed my eye!”
Bronwen nodded, trembling. She would have stabbed his eye all over again, a thousand times, if only it would have brought her parents back to life. They might have gotten into the wrong things, but they didn’t deserve to die for it.
“Ye’re lucky that’s all ye’re losing today,” Euan growled, hauling the man out of the coach and leaving her inside for a moment to stare down at her trembling hands.
The left one had flecks of blood on it from the impact. But the right was completely clean. She started to tremble all over, shaking uncontrollably. A low sobbing sound came from her throat, but no tears accompanied it.
A second later, Maggie’s head popped into the carriage, her blue eyes full of concern locking on Bronwen. “Thank God ye were no’ hurt,” she said, climbing in and shutting the door behind her, cutting off the sounds of Hector’s screams. “But are ye all right?”
Bronwen nodded, then shook her head, her words stuck somewhere inside her throat. All she could do was hold her hands out, unsure of what to do with them. Maggie glanced down at her hands, and then with the hem of her skirt, wiped them clean.
“Ye need no’ say anything yet, Bronwen. Let’s get ye inside, and I’ll get ye some whisky.” Maggie’s voice held calm authority.
Bronwen cleared her throat, her voice coming out hoarse. “Thank ye.”
Maggie opened the carriage door, revealing the rest of the Irvine sisters, who waited there. They formed a cocoon of gowns and ribbons around Bronwen as they led her inside. Over their heads, she could see Euan glancing her way, but they blocked her view of Hector and his goons, all of them screaming obscenities.
With the care all of sisters, and Euan, too, were taking with her—with the words he’d expressed when Hector still had her locked in his hold—she felt a fool for having let Hector trick her. Of course, Euan loved her, and nothing a madman said was going to change that. His sisters were protecting her right now, showing her without words that she was part of their family. Just as they had in every other instance.
Bronwen knew better. Actions spoke louder than words, and she needed to remember that.
They led her up to her bedchamber, settling her on the chair before the banked hearth. A small cup with a dram of whisky was thrust into her hands.
“Drink this. It will calm your nerves,” Maggie said with a nod.
Bronwen did as they bid, sipping the whisky that burned a soothing path down her throat, warming her belly.
She kicked off her slippers and sank her stockinged feet into the plush carpet.
“I know ye may no’ want to get into it yet, but when ye’re ready to tell us what happened, we will all be here to support ye.” Maggie and her sisters all took up seats around Bronwen, some on furniture, some on the floor.
Her chest swelled at the warmth of their concern. And she also knew that she didn’t want to keep any more secrets from them.
“Hector is Prince, the man who my parents were in debt to. He had them killed.” Bronwen couldn’t believe how easy it was to tell them. But then again, she could. They were nothing but open ears, waiting patiently for her to tell them the story and offering her comfort in return and no judgment.
And so she did. She told them every gritty, ugly detail.
“I’d have stabbed him, too.” Raine balled her fist and made a stabbing motion as if practicing.
“Aye, me too,” the rest chimed in.
As the sisters burst into a chorus of all the things they would do to the man who’d tried to harm her, Euan entered the bedroom, his face stricken and pale.
Maggie stood and shooed the rest of the lasses out of the room, leaving the two of them alone, even shutting the door behind them.
“My God, Bronwen.” Euan rushed forward, bending onto one knee at her feet. “I thought I was going to lose ye.”
“I’m so sorry.” Tears welled in her throat for every negative thought she’d had where he was concerned. For believing any of the things that Hector had told her.
“Ye have nothing to apologize for.” Euan grasped her hands in his and started to kiss them frantically.
“But I do. I should have had more faith in ye. But I… It was easy to believe, given my background, that ye were only—” She swallowed, cutting herself off. “I know ye’re a good man. A kind man. And I felt your love in my bones. I am so sorry that I was so weak as to let a few words from a stranger sway me.”
Euan’s gaze locked on hers, and there was such depth of emotion there, she thought she might burst. “Ye’ve lived a lifetime with people causing ye to lose faith, my love. A few weeks with my family is no’ going to change that instantly. But I promise ye, if ye give it time, one day ye’ll trust me.”
Bronwen slipped off her chair falling to her knees on the carpet and pressed her hands to either side of his face. “I do trust ye. Pray, forgive me for my momentary lapse.”
