Page 5 of When the Laird Claims
Melody paled. “But… what about the danger?”
“Wait in this room—hide, if you have to—until the noise and chaos die down, and then youwilldo as I say,” Victoria replied. “If you need help, find the young footman: blue eyes, red hair, freckled face. He will help you find a carriage. I am certain of it.”
At least she prayed that her trust in the one person who had shown her any honest and meaningful kindness here would prove true.
“And what will you do?” Melody asked. “Why will you not come with me? Why must I hide here alone?”
“It must be this way,” Victoria replied.
Someone needed to be a distraction, and it could not be Melody. No, Victoria needed to be the one to put as much distance between herself and her sister, so that they would both have the best possible chance in the future. Of freedom.
“Swear it!” she commanded.
Melody swallowed loudly. “I… I swear it, I do.”
Victoria surged forward, wrapping her arms around her sister as tightly as possible. “Do not delay, do not look for the Earl, no matter how nice he was to you; you must find Emma. There is no one else you can trust now.”
“I swear! But can you not–”
“I love you.” Victoria mustered a smile and kissed her sister’s forehead sweetly before pushing away from her.
She had no choice but to go now before her tears made her vision all too blurry. She had to hope that her sister would do as she was told; she had always done so before. Now should not be any different. Victoria took off in the opposite direction from the loud Scottish voices. She ran for all that she was worth, despite the way that her lungs were burning more with every step.
She ran… right into a wall.
A wall thatbreathed.
Fear seized her so tightly that she froze, her unbalanced legs locking. She could feel herself starting to topple backward, only to be caught in the firm grip of somebody strong. That vise-like grip righted her, with hands that felt as if they were oblivious to the concept of gentleness.
Remembering other such ungentle hands, she turned and yanked herself from the iron grip as best as she could, tumbling back into yet another firm, immovable body.
“Where are ye going, lass?” The thick brogue did nothing to lessen her trembling.
She could hardly breathe as she looked up into the most striking pair of green eyes that she had ever seen, like Hyde Park in the summer. At least a head taller than herself, and impossibly broad, her neck began to ache as she kept staring up at the man who had caught her.
Long dark hair fell around his shoulders, his jaw faintly stubbled to frame full lips, his skin carrying the tan hue and light freckling of someone who rarely spent a moment indoors. His light shirt bore speckles of red, his tartan scorched in places as if someone had tried to fend him off with alitcandlestick, and he smelled of smoke and the metallic tang of iron.
The very sight of him made her feel dizzy. She had, of course, heard about the might and merciless nature of Scottish warriors, but she had not thought that such renowned brutes could be so handsome.
“Are ye all right?”
The fact that the invading warrior was asking her anything at all was laughable.
She might have even laughed humorlessly out loud as tried to pull away from him; she wasn’t certain.
“Th-thank you,” she muttered, not even sure why it was that she was speaking, really.
She did not know why she thought that he would allow her to leave. Out of the pan and into the fire, it would seem. The man’s hand slipped down her arm until it reached her wrist as she was pulling away. His hand closed around her wrist, and she winced. She had not meant to, but the man’s expression changed instantly.
“Please let me go,” she begged.
Something about those handsome eyes darkened as he lifted her wrist to see better, despite the way that she was attempting to carefully pry her hand from his grip. She winced again as the irritated skin pulled, and he noticed the ring of red through the satin of her glove… and then his expression turned into what she could only describe as murderous.
When he spoke again, his voice was dark. “Who hurt ye?”
3
Now ye’ve done it.
