She straightened her spine, waiting for her Scottish bear’s next argument. After all, experience taught her that men never believed a woman’s trials and tribulations. When he didn’t speak, she rose from the stool, hiked her tunic up around her neck, and turned her back to him. “To help you believe my words, here is my witness in the harsh light of day—the soft touch of the candles hid my proof last night.”
A hissing sound, the sharp intake of air through clenched teeth filled the tent.
As the shirt fell back in place, she faced him. “And now, Master Constable, might I have the water for washing?”
Jaw tight and hard, he rose and strode over to the stake. With a mighty pull, he tore it free of the ground and hurled it into the corner. Gaze locked on the doorway, he slanted a polite bow in her direction. “Ye will be provided with whatever ye wish, m’lady.”
Then he charged outside without looking back.
Chapter Five
“Ye no longerconsider her a spoil of war then?” Ross scowled at Thorburn, his tone raging like thunder. The retelling of Adellis’s tale had resurrected dangerous memories and all the emotions that came with them.
“Nor a prisoner.” Valan glowered at them both, just as furious as his brother.
“That is correct,” Thorburn confirmed. “She is my protected guest.”
“And how do ye intend to explain her to the MacDougall?” Ross shifted his attention to the men in the makeshift practice yard in the meadow beside the tents. With his hardened scowl locked on the sparring men, he added, “Ye ken several witnessed the stripping away of her armor and even more watched ye carry her into yer quarters and order her staked there.”
“And the knaves are a chatter about the warrior beauty captured by the constable,” Valan shared before charging toward a pair of men not wielding their sparths properly. “What the hell is that?” he boomed. “Who taught ye to hold yer axe in that manner?”
“The MacDougall is a fair man,” Thorburn reasoned more to himself than Ross. Even though his gaze remained locked on Valan thrashing the two sluggards, his mind wandered back to his tent. He focused on Adellis and all they had shared. “Surely, our liege will grant her sanctuary once he hears of all she has endured.”
But even though he spoke the reassurance aloud, he feared it might prove false. While the MacDougallwasan honorable man, his people viewed him with a healthy dose of fear added to their respect. The Lord of Argyll ruled with unyielding ferocity. He tolerated no bending or loose interpretations of his edicts. The man would be sore pressed to give a Norwegian refuge. He hated them for all they had cost the clan.
“The chore will be convincing him to let her live long enough to tell her tale.” Ross frowned at another pair of men bashing each other with shields and maces. “He’s had his fill of the delays at Duart. Wants the castle built and done, so we can be sent elsewhere for more profit. He knows it’s the Northmen stirring the villagers and making them fearful.” With a side-eyed glance, he gave a doubtful shrug. “And it appears to be the brother of our lovely guest causing all the trouble.” Ross turned to deliver a more pointed glare. “If all she says is true.”
“I saw her scars.” Last night, during their bed play, Thorburn had vaguely noticed an odd texture to the skin across her back, but he had been so inflamed with lust, he’d paid it no mind. But this morning, when she bared herself and revealed the proof of the flaying, any doubts about her story disappeared. The memory of it sickened him. That woman possessed a strength few men could claim, and at that moment, he had sworn to help her, no matter what it took.
“We should capture her brother and give him a taste of the same.” Ross clapped him on the shoulder, then went still. Both his brows climbed to his hairline as he stared at something behind them. “Who gave her those clothes?”
Thorburn turned and fell just as still as Ross. “Hendry.” The artless young knave had misjudged the lady’s sizing. Or maybe not. Perhaps wee Hendry appreciated the female form more than he let on. The trews he had found fit the lass like a second skin, revealing the shapeliness of her long, muscular legs. The fresh léine was less full than her own and only reached to her crotch. Dark blue and belted, she wore the neckline untied, and the snug sleeves rolled partway up her forearms. Tasgall had returned her knee-high boots to her, but thankfully, the lethal heel spikes had been removed. Striding forward with her silvery hair caught back in braids, she resembled the Valkyrie she had spoken of, ready and able to whisk his deserving warriors away to Valhalla.
“I would practice with your men,” she announced with a disarming smile as she joined them.
“That willna be allowed.” He stared at her, trying to decide if she had said it in jest. Surely she had. “Why would ye wish to do such a thing?”
“I shall leave the two of ye to discuss this.” Ross offered a polite nod. “M’lady.” He gave Thorburn an irritatingly smug smile. “Brother.”
“The three of you look the same,” she said as her gaze followed Ross, slid to Valan, then returned to him. “Great blonde bears. Your father must be proud.” She selected a spear from the rack and hefted it in one hand.
Thorburn took the spear from her and put it back in the rack. “He was. Verra proud.” With as gentle a firmness as he could muster, he turned her away from the array of weapons. “I discussed yer plight with my brothers. Ye are now my protected guest.” He proffered a stern nod. “And my guests dinna spar with my men.”
One of her pale brows rose as she loosely folded her arms across her middle. “While I appreciate the elevation to the level of guest, I must practice to maintain my skills.” A faint smile teased the corner of her mouth. “I realize you are the legendaryGallóglaigh,but my brother’s forces are just as lethal. I must be ready when he comes for me. My safety does not fall to you alone.”
A strong surge of protectiveness washed across him, along with the sting of her lack of confidence in himself and his men. He moved closer and touched her cheek, cupping her face in his palm. “I promise ye, m’lady. Ye are safe with me.”
“Do not make promises you cannot keep,” she said softly, brushing her fingertips across the back of his hand.
Her hair reflected the brilliance of the morning’s sunlight, giving her the mesmerizing glow of an angel. He swallowed hard as he watched escaped wisps dancing in the breeze, framing the curves of her features like an ethereal halo. He sensed a vulnerability about her, an untapped gentleness. The realization unleashed a raging torrent of emotions within him, tightening every muscle and sinew. What this warrior princess didn’t realize was that he had never been one to share anything. Once he claimed something and swore to protect it, all others had best leave it alone. She belonged to him and would do well to learn that. “No one takes what is mine, m’lady. Not ever. Ye will be safe.”
She stared up at him, her sweet lips barely parted. He caught a glimpse of her surprise before her iron-willed control whisked it back into hiding.
“I am not yours,” she corrected matter-of-factly.
“Aye, m’lady. Ye are, for I have claimed ye.” He bent his head and took her mouth with his, not giving a damn that the noise of his men sparring in the adjoining field went quiet.
Her breath hitched, but she leaned into him, sealing the bond with a proper return of fiery heat. The weight of her hand rested in the center of his chest, right above his heart. Aye, she was his. At least for as long as she allowed it. He lifted his head and smiled down at her. She looked flustered for the first time since her capture, and it suited her. What a rare woman she was.
