“Doctor told me of your escape from Rome,” the laird said, snagging her wary attention. “’Tis no need to worry o’er the loss of your fine clothes. We’ve seamstresses a plenty back home.”
She opened her mouth to tell him she couldn’t possibly go to his home, but all that earned her was a bite of apple. Octavia had noticed the apple trees when they first dismounted, but had been in too much pain to reach for one of the treasured things. She chewed now, as eagerly as that proverbial baby bird.
“You like this,” he murmured. “Good. Have another bite.”
His tone was seductive, though she doubted he meant for it to be.
She squirmed uncomfortably. Forcing her thoughts to other matters, she decided it was probably best if she spoke as little as possible. At least until she discovered what precisely Dr. Kincaid had told the massive man about her so-called escape from Rome.
Bloody hell. Angus wanted to keep cradling her in his arms for the whole of the eve, but he needed to get some water in the wee lass. Her faint had given him more of a fright than he wished to concede to. He would get her well-nourished and this fainting business would not happen again. He sat her up on his knee and coaxed her into drinking.
Her mesmerizing eyes were wide, but she complied. Mayhap they were seated too intimately for an unwed lady’s sensibilities, yet he did not wish to let her go afore she was feeling better. Hell, he did not want to let her go, ever. She was soft, lush, and lovely. She was gentle and delicate. She was… throwing his dagger over his shoulder at a target who cried out in pain? What in the saints?!
Angus turned, the lady still in his lap, as he saw his mon Niall fall to his knees with a groan. Lady Octavia scurried up and off of the laird, ran to the other side of the fire, and picked up her death stick.
“Nay!” Angus bellowed, holding up his hand. “’Tis one of my warriors you put a hole into.” He knew his voice was gruff; he prayed she didn’t cry. ‘Twas more than he felt up to dealing with this eve.
She closed one eye as she looked into the stick. “He snuck up on us! How do I know he can be trusted?”
Angus’ eyebrows rose. ‘Twas sorely apparent the lass had not been moved to tears by his harsh tone. On the contrary, the avenging angel was back in full form. Leastways, ‘twas a Karrik she was avenging herself upon. “I’ve just told you he is one of my men!” The laird frowned, at this point hoping she would succumb to tears. He decided ‘twould be easier to deal with than this. “Put down your death stick, woman!”
“Lady Octavia,” Doctor pleaded. “He wears the same plaid as his laird. He can be trusted.”
“I dinna ken if I can be trusted now,” Niall ground out as he stumbled toward the fire. “She put a dagger in me, she did!”
“You’re lucky I missed. I was going for your groin.”
“Bluidy hell.”
“I can fix you up,” Doctor said to Niall. He was clearly trying to diffuse the situation. “Milady meant you no harm. Well, she meant you harm, but that was before she knew you could be trusted.”
Niall looked at Doctor as though he was daft. Then he looked to where Colban stood and Sir James laid. “Did she kill that mon too?”
“Aye,” Colban said.
“No!” Doctor retorted. He threw his hands up. “Sit down by the fire and I’ll see to your leg wound. If I don’t then that one—” He jabbed a finger at Colban. “—will be picking out your tombstone for you.”
Lady Octavia showed a hint of a smile as she lowered her death stick. “You shouldn’t sneak up on people,” she chastised. “It can get you killed.”
“I see that!” Niall bit out. “But I was not sneaking.” He sniffed. “Leastways, my laird kenned I was behind him.”
Nay, Angus thought, his laird had not. He should have, but he’d been too bewitched by his avenging angel. He should put her over his knee for the insult she’d dealt Niall, yet knew she was not his to command… yet.
“Others are likely coming,” Angus said, frowning. “Dinna kill anyone, Lady Octavia. And dinna put holes in them as you did to Niall.”
Never in his life had he thought to have a crazed conversation such as this one with a lady! ‘Twas the second time this eve alone she had given his head the ache.
“If you say so,” Lady Octavia demurred. Her words were contrite, but her tone was not. “How many more are coming?” she asked Niall.
“Only four.” At Angus’ raised eyebrow he explained, “The others await us at the Highland border. We wouldst have sent for them did we think we could not handle the English alone. As you escaped, ‘tis apparent I made the proper call.”
Angus grunted. “I wouldst have escaped, ‘tis true.”
“Wouldst have?” Niall asked.
The laird found his face heating. “I dinna get the chance.” At Niall’s blank look he admitted, “The lady who put a hole in you opened the cell door for me.”
“She also killed a bunch of Englishmen to free us,” Colban interjected. His gaze was still frowning over Sir James. “Dead. All of ‘em.”
