Although he was pointing at the stick.
“That depends. What doyouintend to do withme?”
His frown deepened. Could he not understand me any better?
“Poot. Tha. Doon. Afore ye barn m’ hoos to the groon.”
I repeated it in my head, only faster, and smiled when I understood. Then I nearly jumped out of my skin when he shouted.
“Noo!”
“Noo? Oh! You meannow. Gotcha.” Still rattled, I reluctantly turned my back to shove the smoldering wood back where I got it, then pushed the little door closed.
Suddenly the breath left my lungs in awhoosh, and my feet left the ground. By the time I inhaled again, I was halfway across the room with my butt up against the big wood chest and my arms pinned to my sides. Snow and ice and wet hides pressed against my face, and I struggled to get free from it all. Finally, I had to tip my head back to breathe and looked into those furious eyes once again.
Blue. They were blue. And they promised…pain.
I swallowed, truly believing he was going to hurt me, and at a loss for what to say. “Please,” I finally whispered, with what breath I could get. “Don’t…”
Those blue eyes fell to my lips. “Dinnae what?”
“Don’t…hurt me.”
His gaze flew back to my eyes, my cheeks, then my eyes again. He could see I’d been crying and his anger turned to concern, then it was gone again.
He let me go suddenly, pushing me away from him in the same movement. “I promise nothin’.” He stomped out the door but came right back again, only this time he pulled a miniaturesled behind him—a sled small enough to be pulled by one dog. And I guessed he was the dog.
He dragged it to the far side of the table and slid it against the wall. I noticed the shape. This was the vicious monster that had chased him down the road. I almost smiled, but I didn’t dare set him off again.
He glanced up long enough to say, “Dinnae move,” then bent over the load. Tail ends of ropes flipped around as he untied the stack of non-descript bundles. Was he planning to use them on me?
The last time I was this nervous around a man, it was a customer who had come into the restaurant drunk and planned to stay that way. He’d been dangerous too.
“Look,” I said. “The bothy is yours. I just came in to get warm. I’ll be out of your hair in a minute.”
I crept back to the stove and stepped silently into my boots while reaching for my nearly dry gloves. With them tucked under my arm, I grabbed my backpack and started shoving things inside. I would need everything I had to survive the night, even if I found a place to hide in one of the other buildings. But every instinct screamed at me to run and not stop running.
“Bothy?” I could tell by his voice he was facing me again, watching me.
I ignored him and moved faster. My jacket was hanging on the chair between us, so I reached for it without looking up.
“Ye said bothy.”
I slipped my arms inside and pressed my lips together. “Mm-hmm.”
“Ye thought m’ home was a bothy?”
I finally looked at him, wide-eyed. “This is…”
“My home. Aye.”
“I… I am so sorry. I was so sure… I thought maybe this was the Ryovan Bothy.”
One of his brows lifted and he set his hands on his hips, the rope still tangled in his fingers. “The Ryovan Bothy is leagues from here. Hours awee for a fann thing like ye.”
I ripped my gaze away from the ties and swallowed. “Fann?”
“Weak. Helpless.”
