Page 8 of Tempting the Highland Devil
Arran never scared her before, but the wild look in his eyes as his height towered over hers was enough to send a jolt of nerves through her. Whether it was fear or anticipation, she didn’t know. And she didn’t wish to find out.
“This is me chamber. It isnae right for ye to be in here.”
He looked around her chamber and backed away from her. “I have been in here many times.”
“We were children then. It isnae proper for ye to be in here now that we are grown.”
“Tell yer braither ye will allow the competition.”
“Nay,” she thundered, and his eyes darkened as his anger flared. “Why do ye care? It isnae like ye intend to marry me for yerself.”
“Yvaine…”
“This is me life and me decision. I chose not to marry, and believe me when I say that if ye force me to do otherwise, then neither of ye will ever see me again.”
Her words got through to Arran this time, and she saw him retreat before she let out the breath she held.
She expected him to storm out of her chamber, but he only eyed her for a while before he spoke in a softer tone. “Yer braither has demanded that ye learn to defend yerself properly with me help. We shall start trainin’ on the morrow, so rest for tonight.”
Yvaine did not nod or respond, and he turned, headed for the door, then paused and faced her again. “The competition will still hold. It is best that ye accept me help and let me guide ye to choose the right suitor.”
“That isnae yer choice to make, Arran. I do not need ye to guide me or treat me like I am a child.”
His jaw only hardened before he stormed out of her chamber, shutting the door with a thud that echoed throughout the keep.
Yvaine collapsed to her bed and heaved out a deep sigh to ease the ache in her lungs. She had argued with Arran a million times over the years, but never had she felt this intensity of annoyance from him before.
It is almost as if he is more desperate than I am to ensure that I do not wed.Yvaine did not understand it, and she did not want to think about it because her head throbbed.
By morning of the next day, she snuck out of her chamber for a long ride outside of the castle grounds. Every morning for the past year, she dedicated the first hours of dawn to a ride out in the wild where she could admire the beauty of the Highlands’ nature.
She galloped down her usual trail and took the path leading to the riverbank where she could sit and watch some animals have their fill of the cold water or play around.
Yvaine found herself a spot at the bank where she dismounted from her horse then she took the cloak off her head and allowed the breeze to tease her skin.
Her solace was interrupted when she heard the loud neigh of a spooked horse slice through the air, and she quickly got up from the log she sat on.
“Who’s there?” she shouted, her right hand on her chest as the first wave of terror gripped her heart.
Yvaine’s eyes widened as she saw the rider jumping off his horse a second later and stalking towards her.
“Stay back…Stay away from me,” she warned, backing towards the riverbank without caution.
Fear gripped at her heart as she stretched out a hand to keep the cloaked man from grabbing her.
She screamed as his hands closed around her arms and pulled her. The move made the cloak fall from his head to expose his face, but Yvaine was already kicking her knee forward to defend herself before she realized it was Arran.
Her knee collided with his groin; he yelped and released her forcefully, grunting from the pain of her assault.
“Arran,” she screamed as she fell backwards and landed into the cold grips of the river’s water. Every part of her body shuddered involuntarily as the chill spread through to her bones and paralyzed her for a second.
Yvaine heard Arran release a string of heated Gaelic curses as she swiped a hand over her face to wipe off the water and hair clinging to her face.
“What are ye doin’; ye scared me to death!” she cried out at the top of her voice then stared around her.
“Yescaredme,” he answered, still clutching his midsection, and groaning like he was in pain. “I thought ye were runnin’ away, and so I followed ye.”’
She scoffed as she looked at him. The bubble of anger rising in Yvaine then was enough to send heat waves through her even in the frigid morning cold.
