Page 18 of Bride of Fire
Hallie and her self-sacrificing, self-righteous ways always made Jenefer feel like a child.
She swore under her breath. Now, if she managed to escape, Hallie would brand her a deserter.
Damn her cousin. Hallie had effectively left them all at the Highlanders’ mercy.
She shuddered once, hoping it was from cold and not fear. But these were challenges she’d never faced before.
She’d never encountered men as massive as these. She’d never seen agile Feiyan so swiftly dispatched by an opponent. And she’d never felt as defenseless as she did now, dangling from the Highlander’s powerful arm like a sacrificial lamb.
Jenefer hated to confess it, but for the first time in her life, she felt a frisson of dread. Who knew what grisly punishments these barbarians practiced on their enemies? She’d heard tales about the brutes who dwelt in the Highlands…
They sharpened their teeth on grinding stones.
They marked their servants with burning brands.
They butchered cows by tearing them limb from limb.
And by the loud wailing that began again from the upstairs window, they hardened their offspring by ignoring their cries.
Chapter 10
Morgan scowled. Why were the nurses letting his bairn cry? If they didn’t calm the lad soon, the whole household would wake. And if that happened, his clan would witness their laird wrestling with three lasses in the moonlight, one of them as naked as a newborn.
The idea was horrifying.
Just as horrifying was the thought of taking them captive. What was he to do with three bloodthirsty lasses? He’d barely moved into the castle. Did the keep even have a place to hold prisoners?
To be honest, he didn’t want to bring them inside the gates, where they could endanger his clan. Nor did he want to see what manner of sword-wielding, axe-brandishing, vengeance-seeking Rivenloch warriors would march to Creagor on the morrow to reclaim their missing daughters.
This was no way to meet his new neighbors.
Yet what other choice did he have? He dared not let the murderous women go. Not after what they’d attempted.
For one terrible moment, he’d feared Colban had been mortally wounded. He had no idea what gruesome weapon that dark-haired witch had thrown. But he was grateful she was only a wee lass with limited strength in her arm.
Fortunately, Colban was clever enough not to take any chances with the slippery whelp. God only knew what other armaments were hidden on her person. Righting the wench again, Colban clamped her against his chest and set a dagger at her throat.
As for the fiery temptress still thrashing about in Morgan’s grip, he had just about lost patience with her. The combination of her vulnerable nudity and violent savagery were creating confusion and conflict—in his mind and in his body. And he hated to be confused.
The blonde, Hallidis, might be overbearing. But at least she was reasonable. She didn’t seem to possess her cousins’ lust for blood. And she had the good sense to know when she was beaten.
Her voice was cool, somber with resignation, and she clasped her hands humbly before her as if she wore shackles. “What do you mean to do with us?”
What indeed?
Morgan was tired. He was aching. His body was bruised and battered. His soul was weary and dispirited. All he wanted to do was return to his chamber and go to sleep.
At that instant, the bairn let out a piercing scream, as if to say there would be no sleep for Morgan this night.
He let out a long-suffering sigh.
Then an insidious idea entered his mind.
Maybe hedidknow where to stash the wayward lasses.
All he needed was to ensure they wouldn’t escape. They’d be safe enough. Duly punished, but unhurt.
On the morrow, when everyone was thinking more rationally, Morgan could greet the Rivenloch soldiers—who’d surely come for the lasses—with a clear conscience and the diplomacy to settle things peaceably.
