Page 33 of The Highlander's Auctioned Wife
“Ye’ll pay for that,” the man warned, his hand snatching for her other wrist, fighting to seize control of her.
“Take yer hands off her, or lose them,” an eerily calm voice declared, the inn falling silent at the sound, as though the patrons had finally noticed that something was going on.
The vile man beside Anna squinted up into the cold, single-eyed glare of Gordon. “This is none of yer business,” the man shot back. “Take yerself elsewhere, before ye lose yer other eye an’ all.”
Gordon drew his sword, the glint of the blade causing the man’s grip to loosen for a moment.
“Who do ye think ye are, wavin’ that around?” the man snorted, clearly oblivious to the danger he was in.
Anna couldn’t bring herself to look.
“Yer executioner, if ye daenae unhand her,” Gordon replied in that unnervingly calm voice of his.
The man barked a foul laugh. “If ye think ye can frighten me, ye’re sorely?—”
His words dissolved into an animal howl, the rest of the inn flooded by a ripple of gasps. The hand that had been holding Anna’s wrist fell away, followed by a dull thud that she didn’t care to investigate—the man’s ear-splitting cries were evidence enough that she shouldn’t look at the cause.
“Leave or the rest of ye will follow,” Gordon said.
Wailing and clutching his hand to his chest—or, rather, the stump where his hand had been—the man struggled away from the bench and shambled across the inn, practically throwing himself out of the door and into the rain.
“Have someone clean up this mess,” Gordon commanded, the landlady jumping into action, gathering up a bucket and some cloths.
The rest of the inn stared, whispering about who this man might be, but Anna just looked up at his now-familiar face, too stunned by what had just happened to speak.
“It’s time to leave,” Gordon said, his voice softening ever so slightly.
He held out his hand to her and, with her own shaky fingers, she took hold of it, allowing him to help her up.
“Are ye well? Are ye injured?” he asked, leading her toward the door.
She shook her head, still unable to find her voice.
“The only reason I dinnae kill him was because ye said ye daenae like violence,” he said, holding his hand over her head in a vain attempt to shelter her from the rain, before guiding her across the stable yard to where the carriages waited.
Anna managed a nervous nod. “I… thank ye.”
“Remind me to teach ye how to use a dagger,” he said, reaching out for the carriage door. “Nae for violence, but to protect yerself.”
She cast him a sideways glance, curious as to what that might look like: fighting lessons from the Devil of the Highlands, a seasoned and renowned and feared warrior.
“Perhaps,” she conceded, relaxing a little. “Truly, I’m grateful that ye came just in time.”
He opened the carriage door and ushered her inside, putting a folded blanket onto her lap as she settled onto the squabs. “If the meal was our first engagement,” he said, stepping out of the carriage, “the knife lesson can be our second.”
She blinked, not quite certain that she’d heard him correctly. “Pardon?”
“We shared a meal together. That counts, surely, as our first engagement,” he replied, his tone softer still. “And takin’ a man’s hand to defend yer honor certainly counts. A grisly gift, but a gift nonetheless.”
Laughter caught Anna by surprise, bubbling up her throat before she could stop it, spilling out into the murk of early evening. “Was that a jest?”
“Only if ye found it amusin’,” he said with a shrug.
Letting her laughter chase off any lingering fear that the grabbing man had inflicted, Anna tilted her head from side to side. “It wasnaetoobad. I’ve heard worse, I’ve heard better.”
“Just daenae be drawin’ me loppin’ off hands,” he remarked, and, for a precious moment, she thought he might smile. “I daenae make a habit of it, nay matter what ye’ve heard about me.”
Another one!Anna laughed again, the giddy feeling putting her entirely back at ease, though she wished that he would laugh along with her. A smile would have been wonderful, at the very least.
