Page 5 of Claiming His Scottish Duchess
She followed the sound, her steps silent and swift, and found a small girl huddled beneath a large oak tree. Her back was against the trunk, and she clutched something tightly to her chest in her tiny fists as a hulking figure stood over her. His face twisted in a cruel sneer as he closed in on her.
“Gimme the hairpins, girl,” the thug growled, his voice expectant and rough. “Or you’ll regret it. I can promise ya that! Now, I don’t want no trouble. Just hand ‘em over, and ya won’t get hurt.”
The girl trembled, shaking like a leaf in the breeze, as she shook her head from side to side. Her bright blue eyes were wide with terror, but not a sound escaped from her lips.
Catriona scanned the opening surrounding her. She looked around, trying to determine the best way to intervene as her instincts took over. They were far from the beaten path, and there was no clear way out of the wooded alcove without having to confront him.
Without hesitation, Catriona ran to the scene and inserted herself between the girl and the thug. She held the girl behind her and drew her pistol. She cocked it and pointed it right at him, aiming in between his eyes.
“Leave her alone,” she said, her voice cold and steady. “I’m warnin’ ye, I am nae a woman to be trifled with.”
The thug scoffed. “A lady? With a pistol? Don’t make me laugh. Do you even know how to fire that thing?”
“Go ahead,” Catriona prodded. Her eyes were unwavering as she looked right through him. “Try me, ya nasty bastard.”
The thug’s gaze met hers, eyes narrowing as he met her challenge. His gaze followed to her left hand and the unwavering confidence with which she held the gun. He took a step back.
That’s right, ya shite bastard!
“You wouldn’t dare, you Highland harlot!”
“Try me,I said,” she repeated as if he were stupid, the fire in her heart brimming as she felt it grow within her chest. “Or can ye nae hear me?”
She was everything those English poofs said she was. She was a warrior princess trapped in this woman’s body, forced to attend parties instead of running wild. She would make him regret this day.
“And even if I havenae fired this pistol before, there is a first time for everythin’. Would ye like to take that chance? Would ye like to be the first?”
He took a step back, then another, and then another. He put his hands slowly in the air and turned to run.
That’s right.
Catriona turned to face the girl and check on her.
The little creature was a strikingly beautiful child, with the most expressive azure eyes against pale, alabaster skin. She needed little adornment for her natural beauty to shine, even in the darkness of the woods.
As their eyes met, Catriona felt connected to her in a way she could not quite put a finger on—a kindred spirit, she supposed.
Just as the thug began to run away, a voice boomed, “What in God’s name is going on here?”
Chapter Three
“Faisg air a’ chridhe, faisg air an teanga.” Near the heart, near the tongue.
“Answers!” the stranger demanded.
The thug never made it past the first tree, despite his desperate attempt to evade the imposing figure in a mad dash. His grip tightened around the thug’s shoulders. The stranger intercepted him, slamming the roughly dressed man square against the rough bark with a sickening thud.
The stranger’s elegant, flawless appearance was a stark contrast to the barbaric way he attacked. His clothing was tailored perfectly to his muscular body, emphasizing his domineering stature with each brutal movement.
“Please, I have a family to feed,” the thug stammered, as a hopeless litany of excuses spilled from his lips. “I am desperate, and I swear I wasn’t going to touch a hair on her head! Justscare her a lil’ is all. She really shouldn’t have been out here on her own, unsavory folks in these woods. I know—I have seven children, two of them are so sick they barely?—”
The stranger’s patience snapped like a twig as a whirlwind of controlled rage was unleashed on the thug. His strong hands made quick work of landing a brutal flurry of punches, first on his sides and then square across the bridge of his nose. It was then that Catriona took in the sheer size and magnitude of the stranger, looking beyond the threatening display to admire the masculine beauty he had.
Och, those eyes, so deep and mysterious like pools of cool water. His hair is a bit too perfectly coiffed for a man, sittin’ just so… but it suits him just like his neatly trimmed beard. His jawline’s strong as steel, reminds me of a rod that cannae be broken. Aye, what a handsome stranger…
The thug’s cries became desperate as he fell and curled into a fetal position, making his surrender obvious with waves of his dirty hands. Catriona and the girl shuddered at the groaning sound. She prayed that the stranger didn’t take it too far, much as the brute deserved every blow he got. Surely the girl had had enough to fear for a day.
The stranger hauled the man up to his feet by the scruff of his neck. His eyes burned with a cold fury as he took in the face of this thug.
