“Get him, Dougal!”
The hard thump of a fist in the gut, followed by a sharp “umph” and moan, were enough to confirm her suspicions, even before she caught a glimpse of the black hair caked with mud and the bloody too-big nose.
Rage stormed through her. “Get away from him!” she shouted, running toward the not-so-little brutes.
The sound of her voice parted the circle of spectators like Moses at the Red Sea. The thugs-in-the-making gaped at her as if she were a madwoman. Which, as furious as she was, wasn’t far off.
Be smart. John’s admonitions came back to her.Lead with your head, not with your heart.
She scanned the faces. She knew most of them and wasn’t surprised by any, except for one. Willy MacNee met her gaze and quickly turned away, his face as red as a ripe tomato. Willy was the younger brother of one of her friends, and a sweet boy. She’d expected better of him, and he knew it.
But her attention was soon focused on the two boys at the center of the spectacle. One was big, thick, and mean; the other was small and thin, and didn’t know when to back down. After assuring herself Pip was all right beyond the obvious broken nose (the last thing the already overlarge feature on his small face needed), she turned to Dougal. “What is the meaning of this, Dougal? How dare you hit him!”
The boy obviously wasn’t used to being taken to task by a woman. Recalling the bruises she’d seen on his mother’s face, she wasn’t surprised. The father was just as brutish as the son.
But when he looked her up and down, she realized it wasn’t just her sudden appearance that had startled him; it was also her clothing. She’d forgotten about the fine gown and realized he’d never seen her dressed like a lady before—like the daughter of a chieftain. Except she wasn’t the daughter of a chieftain, and everyone knew it.
They thought her an orphan rescued by the absent MacGregor laird. Not a peasant, but not a lady either. Somewhere in between. By not telling Gregor the truth about her father, the stain of her bastardy had not followed her to Roro.
Seeming to remember her status, Dougal puffed up and thrust out his chest like a preening peacock. “’Tis none of your affair, mistress. This is between us men.”
She lifted a brow at that, making the seventeen-year-old boy flush.
She took a step toward him. Though she was about half his weight and a full head shorter, the fierceness of her expression must have startled him. Instinctively he moved back. “Pipismy business,” she said firmly. “He is my family.”
“He’s a worthless, thieving no-name bastard!”
Rage expanded every vein in her body. Pip, too, let out a roar that belied his size and launched himself at the other boy, fists pummeling. “I’m not a thief. It was you who took my money. I was only trying to get it back!”
Pip’s advantage of surprise didn’t last long. He landed only a few blows before Dougal retaliated with an upper-cross to his jaw. Blood sprayed out of his mouth as Pip’s body went flying back through the air like a sack of bones.
Cate didn’t think; she reacted. Dougal’s fist had barely returned from his side when she took hold of his arm and twisted it around his back.
Leverage, position, and hitting the right spot, she reminded herself,not physical strength. Still, her pulse was racing. This wasn’t the training yard.
But it was working. She couldn’t believe it was actually working! She was really doing it.
Dougal let out a yelp of pain and stared at her as if she’d suddenly sprouted a second head. Levering her foot around his body, she pulled his arm until his eyes started to water and sweat poured off his reddened face. His knees were buckling to absorb the pain, so when she leaned toward him their noses were only inches apart. “You are nothing more than a big bully, Dougal MacNab. A weak boy who preys on those physically smaller than you. But size doesn’t equal strength.” She tugged his arm a little harder until he cried out. “I hope you’ve learned your lesson because if you touch one hair on his head again, I will find you and ensure you do.”
Suddenly, she was conscious of the other boys. Coming out of their shock, they’d started to murmur and shift back and forth a little uneasily, as if they knew they should do something. She’d been so carried away by her success that she’d forgotten about the others. But Cate was painfully aware that using what she’d learned on one man was vastly different than on a half-dozen.
“Please,” he said, the crack in his voice reminding her of his age. “You’re going to break my arm.”
“You’ll remember?”
He nodded vehemently.
“Good.” She released him and took a few steps back. He was rubbing his shoulder, staring at her with a mixture of disbelief, embarrassment, outrage, and hatred. “Being mean doesn’t make you a man, Dougal. And fear is not respect. I hope you will remember that as well.”
Deciding it might be prudent to get out of there as quickly as possible, she turned to help Pip up. The next thing she knew, she was facedown in the mud. It wasn’t the first time she’d been knocked down from behind, but it was the only time she’d ever wanted to cry. The sodden, muddy edge of her pink veil reminded her of what she was wearing. Her gown was ruined.
The gown Lady Marion had bought for her.
The gown she’d wanted to impress Gregor with.
The gown that had made her feel…pretty.
She heard Pip shout in outrage, spewing a litany of inventive threats that almost made her smile.
