Page 3 of When a Highlander Weds a Hellion
Someone grasped her ankles, stopping her movement, and then she found herself being flipped onto her back. She started to sit up to fight with her fists, but the smallest Blackswell lunged at her hands and held her down. With her feet and her arms now immobile, her helpless state set ice in her veins.
Mungo loomed over her, his face red, his dark eyes narrowed. He had blond hair that hung on either side of his face and a long, hawklike nose. “I’m going to show ye real slow and painfully what happens to lasses who refuse to obey.”
Revulsion swept through her as his hands came to his braies. He intended to use her. How dishonorable, disgusting, and typical of a Blackswell. “I hope I dunnae fall asleep,” she said, forcing a laugh through her rapidly growing terror.
In a flash, the giant smacked her across the face so hard that tears blurred her vision and her head jerked to the left. Fury choked her, and she curled her hands into helpless fists, her thoughts racing to find a way to stop this man and coming up empty.
“I like a lass with a sense of humor,” a deep voice said.
Katreine frowned, swearing it was not one of her original three captors. She turned her head in time to see Mungo swing his fist at someone, and she blinked. There was indeed another man there now. He was tall and appeared to be carved of stone, deadly looking. She didn’t know whether to be relieved or worried. Suddenly, her feet and hands were released, as all the Blackswell men moved at once toward the stranger. He let out a shrill whistle and another man came racing from the woods, his sword out.
The muscled warrior swung his sword in a high arc and brought it swiftly down to fell one of the Blackswell men. The other man, the warrior’s companion, charged the Blackswell who had restrained her, while the warrior himself faced Mungo. Katreine scrambled on her knees to the first Blackswell who had been felled, snatched the dagger sheathed at his hip, and stood.
She didn’t know these two new men. They could be worse than the Blackswells, and she’d be armed and ready. The towering man was in full battle with Mungo now. Katreine watched long enough to know Mungo was no match for the newcomer, and she could not help but feel glad about that. She turned and ran toward the cave in the distance as steel clashed behind her. The rocky ground made her flight slower than she wished, but finally she reached the caves.
When she entered the damp cavern, it took her a breath to get oriented in the shadows. Once she did, she quickly wound through the tunnel toward the end that opened to the sea, but she came to a shuddering halt at the sight of a small vessel anchored in the water. A flag with the king’s crest emblazoned upon it waved in the wind. The king was no friend of hers at this moment. She had to get away.
She darted a look over her shoulder, her breath rushing out when she saw no one coming for her. She fumbled around trying to kick off her slippers, and when she finally managed it, she pulled her gown off with shaking hands while maintaining a death grip on the dagger. She feared her gown would weigh her down too much or become caught in the rocks, and she’d be stuck and drown. As her gown dropped to the cave floor, the warm breeze from the sea instantly flowed over her. With a frown, she glanced down at her indecent state, but there was no help for it. Taking a deep breath, she moved to the edge of the cave and found a clear spot to dive into the water. Then suddenly, heat enveloped her from behind.
“I’d nae do that if I were ye,” that same deep voice rumbled, making her shiver.
Her pulse exploded, and she jumped toward the water, only to be yanked back and, once more, against a man’s chest. This time, she was not going to end up defenseless. She twisted left and drove the dagger backward toward the stranger’s gut, but he caught her wrist easily, stepped away from the ledge, set her on her feet, and twirled her to face him. Strong fingers gripped her shoulder as he relieved her of her dagger.
She gasped and attempted to regain the weapon, but the stranger held the dagger out of her reach. She cocked her head and met her captor’s gaze. The bluest eyes she’d ever seen stared down at her. Amusement twinkled in their azure depths, and a smile, warm and inviting, spread across his ruggedly handsome face.
He tilted his head ever so slightly. “That is nae a way to thank the man who just saved ye, Hellion.”
She drove her knee upward, intending to unman him as she had Mungo, but he stopped her attempt with an unyielding palm. A dark scowl settled on his face, turning his bright eyes to a stormy blue. “Are ye always this surly?” he demanded, the amusement she’d seen moments before vanishing.
“Only to men who are trying to harm me,” she snapped. She gave a tug on her leg and frowned at him when he did not release her. “If ye dunnae mind freeing me,” she said in a purposely false, sweet tone. “Or do ye plan to show me what happens to lasses who dunnae obey, as Mungo was attempting?”
A look of disgust swept his face, which both surprised and relieved her. He immediately released her leg, but when she took a step away from him, he moved toward her, closing the distance. She arched her eyebrows, and he gave her an apologetic smile that contradicted his action. Then he furthered her confusion by holding his large, calloused hands up in front of her. “I dunnae mean ye harm.”
She snorted, and his lips pressed together in obvious irritation. “Nay?” She set her hands on her hips. “Then why are ye trying to frighten me?”
“Frighten ye?” he sputtered. “I’m simply attempting to ensure ye dunnae run.”
“Why do ye care if I run or nae if ye dunnae mean me harm?” she demanded.
“Well, for one thing, lass, ’tis clear these parts are dangerous, and ye need protection.”
“I can protect myself,” she growled, incensed that this stranger had come upon her when she’d been nearly helpless. She did not like being seen as incapable.
“Oh aye?” Sarcasm dripped from his words. “I could see when the scoundrel had ye on yer back with yer legs and arms held down that ye did nae need aid.”
Her face heated instantly, and she glared at the man. “I was making a plan of attack,” she muttered, which was not entirely a lie. If she could have determined how to attack Mungo and his minions, she would have done so.
“Also,” he said, giving her a look that said he didn’t believe her, “I was sent here to find ye.”
Her eyes went wide at that, and she took a good look at the stranger once again, her brow knitting together. By the king’s flag she’d seen flying, she had little doubt it was King David himself who had sent this man. “Who sent ye?” she asked firmly. “Ye are nae one of my father’s warriors.”
“Ye ken all yer father’s warriors, do ye?” His tone was almost mocking.
“Of course I do,” she shot back. “They guard me, so the least I can do is ken each of them.” Satisfaction filled her when surprise flickered across his face. She did so love to put a cocksure man in his place. “Now,” she said, feeling slightly smug, “we have established ye are nae a Kinntoch as I am, and I doubt ye are a Blackswell.”
“A Blackswell?” He looked swiftly to his right toward where he and his man had fought the Blackswells. When he faced her once more, a troubled look was upon his face, but it vanished as if he had shaken off any concern that had touched him.
“Why could I nae be a Blackswell? Because I’m too charming?” the Scot asked with a breathtaking grin. His eyes twinkled devilishly when he smiled, and two dimples appeared, which made the otherwise imposing man look momentarily undaunting.
