“Stop.”
She looked over the balding man’s shoulder to see Fergus standing there, jaw clenched, holding a bag of her supplies in one hand.
The man did not seem to hear Fergus, or was ignoring him, because he just put a hand on Jeane’s face, cupping her cheek.
Jeane shuddered in fear and revulsion.
“Daenae ye touch her!” Fergus growled, and suddenly, the man was off her.
In a move so quick Jeane barely noticed it, Fergus used one arm to slam the balding man up against the brick, his fingers wrapped around the man’s throat.
Fergus squeezed. “Ye daenae touch what is mine.”
His voice was low and dangerous, and Jeane’s eyes widened as Fergus tightened his hand around the man’s throat.
The man wheezed and clawed at Fergus’ fingers but to no avail.
“Tell the lass ye’re sorry,” Fergus snarled, and the man wheezed again.
“Cannae breathe—” he started, but Fergus clenched his hand even tighter, and the man’s eyes seemed to almost pop out of his head.
“Fergus—”
“Apologize to the lass,” Fergus said again, loosening his grip just slightly.
“S-sorry,” the man who had accosted her managed, his voice thin and reedy, high-pitched instead of low like before.
“I hope ye learned yer lesson,” Jeane said quickly, glancing up at Fergus.
His dark brown eyes had bled nearly black, and he looked at the man, not Jeane.
“I’m all right,” Jeane said again, placing her hand on Fergus’ bicep, and finally, Fergus let the man go.
The man gasped and clawed at his throat for only a split second before running down the street and disappearing around the corner.
Then it was Fergus pressing her up against the brick, his hand on her jaw, popping her mouth open as if to check for injuries.
“Did he hurt ye?” he asked, no, demanded, his dark eyes searching her face.
“Nay,” Jeane said quickly, her breath coming shorter at his touch. She should be afraid, and she supposed that part of her was, but another part of her was titillated by the display of power. Her skin felt hot all over.
Fergus hummed in the back of his throat and finally took a step back. Jeane felt like she could finally breathe again.
“Come, lass,” he said, taking her hand and leading her down the street. They were walking away from the stables where Fergus had put his horse, and Jeane frowned.
“Where are we going?”
“To the inn of course.”
Jeane stared at him, flabbergasted. He wanted her to stay at an inn with him? Alone?
Fergus fought a smile as Jeane glared up at him. Her ferocity amused him, and he could not help but adore how her chin tilted up and how her brown eyes flashed.
“I’m nae stayin’ the night alone with ye,” Jeane said stubbornly. “I thought we were goin’ back.”
“I thought we were too, but it’s gotten so late. I daenae want to ride through the night. Daenae worry, lass, I will get ye yer own room,” he assured her. “What kind of man do ye think I am?”
“I wouldnae ken, would I?” she asked sullenly, and Fergus let out a frustrated breath.
