Page 6 of Saved By the Highland Beast
The laird had a playful side to him despite his gruff and serious exterior.
“I ken what ye meant, lass.” His laughter rumbled in her ears, sending waves of goosebumps across her skin.
“Don’t you think I’m in a better position to take advantage of you?” she asked playfully, shocking even herself with her words. Perhaps she had become delirious from the excitement of the whole ordeal and her mouth did not connect with her brain.
Dean smirked at her, looking pleasantly surprised at her boldness. “How would ye be able to take advantage of me, lass?”
“A lady has many tricks up her sleeves.” She decided to play on with the flirtation.
She felt emboldened here in the Scottish countryside, so outside of stuffy England and its rules, that it seemed everything had changed overnight. She had survived all those days alone travelling to Scotland. She had avoided an assault, with the laird as her saving grace. She could be a little bolder if she wanted to.
“You’ll have to show me those tricks sometime,” he whispered in her ear, making her shiver.
Who is this man?
He was gruff and quiet with a penchant for teasing, but what struck her the most was how incredibly handsome he was. She was afraid of him in a way that piqued her interest.
Her stay at McGill Castle was going to be very interesting it seemed.
CHAPTER3
Sophia stoodto the side as the men untacked their horses, and made a camp for the night. She was cold and wet, but she tried her best to stay out of the way. Her dress was torn and tattered, and she was trying to cover her body.
Dean watched her every move as he gave orders to the men, standing back when he saw that all was underway. Sophia’s beauty bewitched him. From the first moment he had seen her fighting against those bastards, he had felt like a fae had cursed him. He was still seething that those men would dare touch her. If they weren’t dead, he would kill them again.
She seemed like a gentle-natured woman, unassuming and kind. She hadn’t flinched away from the men just because they were Scottish. Given what she had just been through, she was still willing to trust.
He hoped that her gentle ways wouldn’t be a weakness, in the end, as his son could send the best of them packing with a glare. None of the previous ladies had lasted, and three of them had been far tougher than Sophia seemed to be, strong ladies with a will of iron that Cillian had broken.
“Would ye care for a drink, milady?” Hamish bowed low in front of her with his flask held out.
“Dinnae offer her yer lip-soiled flask, ye great bampot.” Anthony came forward and clapped Hamish on the back, sending him sprawling into a nearby bush. “The lady doesnae want to be anywhere where yer lips have been.” He reached into his satchel and pulled out a bottle. “Here, milady, have a wee dram of ale. The bottle has nae been opened. Ye will be safe with that.”
Hamish swore under his breath as he picked himself up and out of the bushes. A few twigs had lodged themselves in his mess of red curls. “Bastard…”
Dean watched as Sophia kept her hands clutched to her chest. She was unperturbed by their scuffle and more concerned with her modesty.
“Oh, I beg yer pardon, milady.” Anthony blushed bright red before turning back to his horse and retrieving a blanket from his bedroll. “Here ye are. Ye can cover yerself with this.”
“Thank you.” Sophia accepted the dark-grey blanket and draped it over her shoulders before accepting the bottle of ale and taking a swig.
Her long brown hair was almost dry as the curls clung to the gentle curve of her neck. She was a beautiful woman with bright green eyes and a slender waist. Anyone could see that, especially Anthony, who was fussing over her like a love-sick puppy.
Dean shifted uncomfortably on his feet as Anthony’s fingers brushed the bare skin of her shoulders. He felt a sudden irrational urge to knock him off his feet. Taking a deep breath, he leaned against a tree and continued to watch them.
“Please take a seat by the fire, milady.” Anthony moved aside and showed her to a stone, where she sat with the blanket pulled tightly around her shoulders.
Anthony Gillies was a known ladies’ man with a reputation for teasing the lasses. He was a roguishly handsome man of twenty-eight, or so everyone said. His pale blue eyes, dirty blonde hair and five-o’clock shadow didn’t mean much to Dean in the grander scheme of things. It was his swordsmanship and loyalty that mattered most to him in a battle. Dean smiled to himself from the shadows as he watched their interaction. He would have to box Anthony’s ears for pestering the poor woman. He told himself it was only because he saw how afraid she had been, and not because he felt an irrational overprotectiveness toward her.
“If ye would like me to see to yer wounds, milady, I could give ye a hand,” Anthony offered enthusiastically as he took a seat by her side.
Hamish grumbled and rolled his eyes as he took his seat beside the others. “Leave her alone, ye dirty bastard. She doesnae need yer help. She fought off the English dogs ‘afore ye came along.”
Anthony whipped around and glared at him. “Dinnae make me throw ye into the bushes again, ye great ape. I’ll have ye flat on yer back ‘afore ye can wipe the dribble from yer chin. I’ll grab ye by that curly mess ye call a beard and throw ye like a hammer.”
Hamish jumped to his feet again, making his giant belly wobble. “Say that a bit closer, ye daft fool! I’ll pummel ye into the ground with one hand tied behind me back. I’ve done it ‘afore, an’ I’ll do it again!”
Dean rolled his eyes and sighed when Anthony rushed forward with his finger thrust into Hamish’s chest. The two had known each other ever since they were lads but somehow always managed to get into scuffles after a brief bout of name-calling and threats. The only time that anyone had ever been injured was when Hamish had gotten the jump on Anthony and accidentally pushed him into a wall. A fact that Hamish would never let Anthony forget.
