Page 25 of Draped in Plaid
“Nay.” Steven’s grip steadied, his cruel grin returned. His hand shot out, gripping Emma around the throat. “I don’t remember you, but I want to get to know you a whole lot better.”
The knave’s fingers tightened and Emma made gurgling noises that tore at my heart. Lifted up on her tiptoes, she clawed at his hands in an effort to release herself. I wasna going to hold back any further.
“Let her go,” I growled, lurching forward to my face near his, fearing he’d only squeeze harder if I tugged her back.
“Sorry, no can do, savage. Back away. Or I’ll squeeze the life out of her.”
The whoreson was already doing that. Emma’s face was turning red, her eyes bulging.
I glanced at Ewan, Rory, and gave an imperceptible nod.
Ewan shot his fist out, ramming it into Steven’s side. The jackanapes jerked backward, gasping for air, his grip on Emma loosening. I yanked her behind me and slammed my fist into Steven’s face, watching with satisfaction as he fell to his knees, meeting the hard side of Rory’s knee against his chin.
Steven’s eyes rolled back into his head as he slumped backward, out cold.
I pulled Emma into my embrace, checking her neck and bristling at the red fingerprints on her skin.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered against her ear, hugging her close.
She clung to me and shook her head. “I’m sorry.”
“Nay, ye needn’t be.”
“I shouldn’t have provoked him.” Her entire body trembled.
“Nay, love. This is not your fault. Ye did the right thing, though I could have done without him grabbing ye.”
“Me too,” she let out a half-laugh as tears wet her face.
“We need to hide him,” Rory said, kneeling to check Steven’s pulse. “We need to find out what he knows.”
“Into the dungeon,” Ewan said.
I opened the door that Steven had been blocking, making certain there were no other guards about, and then Rory dragged him inside. Beyond the door was an empty cell. I opened the iron door, and then knelt to find the keys at Steven’s hip. “He should be nice and cozy in here.”
I took a great amount of pleasure in slapping the man hard across the face to wake him up.
Steven came to ready for a fight, jerking up, but going nowhere since Rory and Ewan held him down. Emma and Shona slunk into the shadows of the small cell, keeping out of view.
“Where are ye from?” I asked, looming over Steven. I wanted him to think I was the devil come to collect. Judging by the cloud of fear in his eyes, I was making that point.
Still, his obstinacy won out. With teeth bared, he said, “I’m not telling you anything.”
I slapped him hard, splitting his lower lip. “That’s your choice. But what are ye protecting? What does it matter?”
Steven licked at the blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. “You’re a Scottish bastard, a savage. The only thing I’m telling you is to say your prayers afore my men come looking for me.”
“Oh, that’s a shame,” I said, my smile mirroring the one he’d fixed on Emma. “No one is coming for ye.”
Steven bristled, obviously calculating in his mind when the next shift would be coming on duty.
“I’ll ask ye again.” I nodded and Rory and Ewan tightened their grip on Steven, lifting him up enough that they could bend his arms behind him. Painful, the move always got men talking. “Where are ye from?”
Steven grimaced at the pain in his shoulders. “From here. I’m from Norfolk.”
“And what year were ye born?”
“1345.”
