Page 6 of Trapped with the Vicious Highlander
“I am being impossible? You, Sir, are the one claiming that this child is yours. You, Sir, are the one expecting me to hand Margaret over to you just because you have declared that she is your daughter.”
The warrior laughed at the name again.
“I am sorry, is something amusing to you, Sir?” Ava hissed.
Her eyes darted to the broken door, and she begged—no, prayed—that someone, anyone, would walk in and save her from this moment. From this man, whose hazel eyes pierced right through her, causing her knees to tremble for some reason. From this man, whose chin was covered in the shadow of a beard that seemed to accentuate his jawline. From this man, whose skin continued to glisten in the sunlight streaming into the kitchen from the rafters above.
“You want me to hand the girl over to you, and yet you have managed to avoid every single question I have asked you. So, for the last time, Sir, who are you, and what do you want? Do you really expect me to just hand her over to a man covered in blood?”
The warrior lowered his hand to the pommel of his sword. “I am Brodrick Culloch, Laird of Clan MacDunn.”
Ava felt the color drain from her face. The warrior noticed it as well.
“So ye have heard of me,” he concluded, a faint smirk tugging at his lips when he noticed the complete change in her countenance.
Of course she had heard of him. She had heard of the dangerous man by that name. One known for burning down villages and attacking clans. Everyone knew about Laird MacDunn, the man who faced the fiercest of warriors and took down the hardest of men.
She may not know anything about the man standing before her, but she knew of his reputation, and if any of the news she had heard about him was true, then he was deadlier than she had thought.
“Again, I say to ye, miss, that I have come to take me daughter home with me.”
Ava looked down at Margaret, who shook her head vigorously, not letting go of her waist. Her eyes darted from Margaret to the warrior standing before her. The warrior who had claimed to be the girl’s father. She swallowed, feeling caught between a rock and a hard place.
Her heart pounded hard in her chest, but she refused to let it show. This was not her first time dealing with a powerful man, and this would definitely not be her last. His steely hazel eyes continued to pierce through her and push her feelings in a way they had never been pushed before.
She finally swallowed, letting words come to her.
“You… You’re Margaret’s father?” She heard her voice falter slightly.
Laird MacDunn gave her a quick nod and waited—waited for her to register the information and make a decision, quickly. He shuffled his legs, drawing her attention to his tartan for the third time.
While she made sure to remain cool and collected in the eye of the storm, it was quickly dawning on her that if Laird MacDunn was who he said he was, and if he decided to take Margaret with him, there was almost little to nothing she could do. She was helpless, and she prayed desperately that he couldn’t see that.
That he couldn’t see through her. That he couldn’t tell that she would not be able to hold her own if he applied more pressure than he was doing now.
She wouldn’t be able to hold Margaret away from him even if she desperately wished to.
Ava swallowed one more time, deciding to lean into whatever remaining strength she had left. She was going to challenge this man, whoever he was, and whether he was Margaret’s father or not, she would find out the truth and be irreconcilably certain about it.
CHAPTER3
“No,”she finally said.
She could feel the energy that had been sucked out of her by the Laird’s presence slowly returning to her body.
“Nay?” he asked, cocking his head.
“No, I won’t let you take her.”
“Is this a joke?”
“I am afraid not, Sir.”
She could feel her energy slowly begin to grow. The same one she used to speak to and challenge the men in her life at one point or another. The energy filled her so much that it was her turn to take a step closer to him. One she was certain was not going to hurt her or Margaret.
She did.
Brodrick furrowed his brow, confused. But underneath the confusion and the frustration was a bit of fascination.
