Page 27 of Bride of Mist
He probably wished to torture her.
Or enslave her.
Or swive her to death.
“Where will you take me?” she asked.
“To the main road. By my reckonin’, we’re not far from Biggar. We’ll find an inn there.”
She lifted her brows. That was interesting. If he simply wanted to molest her, why would he take her to an inn? Cross an innkeeper’s palms with enough silver, and she supposed he would turn a blind eye to a man’s face and a deaf ear to a woman’s cries. But it would be far easier to assault her in the middle of the forest, where the only witnesses would be the woodland creatures.
As he eased his garments over the injuries she’d inflicted, she noted with some satisfaction that he grimaced in pain. She might be small. But his bruises were proof that even a wee bit of force applied in a concentrated spot could do damage.
“Ye’re a scrappy lass with your fists,” he admitted, pulling on his trews.
She smirked. He had no idea just how lethal she could be.
“Have ye got any other skills?” he asked.
“Give me my blade,” she dared him, “and I’ll show you.”
One corner of his lip curved up. “I think that would be unwise.”
He was only half-dressed, still vulnerable. If she could coax him into a sword fight…
“Why?” she taunted. “Are you afraid?”
He slipped on his still-damp gambeson. “I’m afraid o’ doin’ ye harm.”
She allowed herself a secret smile. The man’s overconfidence would be his undoing.
He forced his feet into his wet, crack-heeled boots.
“Have ye e’er swept a chamber?” he asked. “Or served a meal?”
Her eyes smoldered. Her suspicions were correct. He meant to make her his slave. “Nay.”
“Ne’er?”
“Never.”
That was a lie. Since, as the oldest child, she spent most of her time in sparring and study, she had servants who cooked and cleaned for her. But as part of her training, Sung Li had insisted she learn humility by doing all the tasks required of her servants. Feiyan knew how to gather eggs, brew ale, milk cows, polish armor, herd sheep, launder linens, and even empty chamberpots.
That didn’t mean she enjoyed it. Nor would she do any of those tasks for a man she meant to kill.
He snorted. “Ye seem bright enough. I’m sure ye can learn.”
She seethed in silent aggravation. Damn the brute. She was a seasoned warrior. Not a serving lass.
When he fastened her sword belt around his hipsas if it belonged there,she clenched her teeth together so tightly she thought they would crack. And when he slid hershoudaointo its sheath with smug grace, it took all her willpower to resist throttling him with her bare hands.
Chapter 8
To Dougal, the inn at Biggar seemed as decent a place as any to deposit a wayward lass. The rushes on the floor were clean. A fire blazed on the hearth. A few lodgers guzzled ale and chatted at worn tables. A cauldron of pottage bubbled over the fire.
The gray-bearded innkeeper gave him a welcoming nod when Dougal closed the door behind him.
The lass immediately retreated to the farthest table from the entrance. Dougal kept an eye on her as he went to speak with the innkeeper.
