Page 47 of When the Laird Claims
“Always be aware,” Victoria parroted for a second time, and as Arran started to straighten, she did it again.
She used her elbow in his belly as leverage as she slammed into him again, shunting him as hard as she could. Never mind that the whole side of her body felt like she had hurled herself into a brick wall instead. The impact almost made her lose her footing, bouncing off him, but the element of surprise was worth it. She did not relent as Arran stumbled backward.
With all of her determination, she launched herself at him again, digging her shoulder in this time.
He toppled and fell to the ground far more softly than she would have liked. Italmostfelt as if he were letting her have the win. She pulled the small knife that he had given her from her dress pocket and held it between them as she stood over him.
“Any tenderness?” she teased. “Any reason I should go easy on you?”
She knew that if they had been without an audience right now, and with the way he was presently looking at her, he would have pulled her down on top of him.
It was pure luck that Kristin could not see the raw hunger on Arran’s face as she erupted in uproarious laughter.
“That was a cheap shot, lass,” Arran grumbled, though he could not hide the curve of a smirk. “Takin’ advantage of a man while he’s distracted.”
Victoria could not help but smirk back at him. “But did you not say that an attacker would not care if I was ready or not?”
Arran’s smirk only widened with her words.
Victoria stepped back, tucking her little knife away again and not bothering to extend a hand toward him. Arran moved with preternatural fluidity as he rolled into a stand.
Kristin was laughing so hard that she was crying. “I hope that ye have grass stains on yer arse for months to come from that tumble, brother.”
She wiped at the happy tear rolling down her face.
“Oh, I wish I could see that again and again,” Kristin continued.
“Well, it willnae happen again,” Arran replied, the tips of his ears turning slightly pink at his sister’s teasing.
“Oh, it willnae matter, I will ensure that ye never live it down!”
Victoria almost snorted. She could not stop herself. She lifted the back of her hand to delicately cover the lower half of her face as Arran whipped around to see if she was laughing at him. Shetriedto muster an expression of innocence, but she could not quite manage it.
“Ah, so that is how it is to be, lass?” Arran’s smirk turned into a devious grin. “Ye think that because ye have me outnumbered that–”
Whatever it was that he was going to say next was cut off by the arrival of his man-at-arms, Neil, with a letter in his hands. The moment that Victoria saw the gaudy golden seal on the back, she knew exactly who it was from.
“A letter from England,” the man said pointedly. “Nay messenger that anyone saw. It was left tied to the gates. Daenae ken how long it has been there.”
Is Charles here already? Has he come so close?
Victoria could not breathe at all as Arran ripped open the letter, the seal cracked apart, the fragments falling to the ground.
He scoffed, clearly reading the letter quickly, and Victoria moved before he could crumple the thing into oblivion. “What does it say?”
She felt pale, like she could not breathe properly. All the joy had completely dissolved from Kristin’s face as well.
“It would seem that the Earl is issuin’ me a formal warning,” Arran almost laughed. At least he was amused by the wholeprospect. “He says that ye are his betrothed.” Arran pointed to the spot on the letter so that she could see that the word “my”was underlined twice. It looked as if Charles had nearly punctured the paper with his quill, judging from how the words were angrily scratched into it. “And if I daenae wish for ye to be harmed, then I ought to let ye go immediately. Seems a mite counterintuitive if ye ask me.”
Victoria’s eyes flicked upward to him, taking some small comfort in the fact that he did not seem worried in the slightest bit by the threat. She knew how much power Charles had back in England, and most men would have cowered at such a thing. But this was not England; she had to remember that.
“Seems like he’s of the opinion that if he cannae have ye, nay one can,” Kristin said, a bite in her voice.
A shudder ran down Victoria’s spine as the echo of Charles’ voice snarling those same words to her countless times repeated in her mind.
Arran thrust the letter at Neil, his brow arching with mischievous intent. “Let’s drive him mad, shall we?”
The pair of men turned to head back into the castle before Victoria could so much as question what he meant.
