MacDonald’s hands grasped the reins and tugged so that his destrier turned to face his men. When he was in position, he pulled her cloak all the way down from her head so that her face was fullyvisible.
She bit down hard on the inside of her cheek, determined not to weep in front of them and let them claim her fear as well as herbody.
“This one is mine!” His voice thundered over the crowd. “You may look at her only with my blade in yourbelly.”
She washis? It was certainly a better prospect than beingtheirs, but still, she didn’t want to beanyone’s!
Something welled from deep within, born from fear or frustration or some other unnamed emotion, she did not know. But she had to speak up, had to tell him she would not accept this fate without pushing back as hard as shecould.
“I am the property of no man, my lord.” She was careful to keep her voice low so that only he couldhear.
Her words were met with a chuckle. “You will fight me, lass? So beit.”
MacDonald released a rein and turned her head so she must meet his gaze. What met her eyes was a shock that sent a jolt straight through her. An angry red scar sliced through an otherwise angelic face. Cold blue eyes bore into hers and the hard determination in his gaze made her gasp. The contrast between his sensual mouth, thick flaxen hair, and firm jaw and the viciousness of the crimson slash across his face made her wonder if it was a good representation of the duality of hischaracter.
“Do I frightenyou?”
“No.”
His features changed. His brows drew up for a moment, as though he’d expected a different answer. But a second later, the hardness was back and hegrimaced.
“Iwill.”
He released her face, grabbed the reins and kicked his horse’s side hard. They lurched forward and, within minutes, had left the village. The morning was bright and sunny despite the events around her—would she live to seeanother?
* * *
Malcolm lookeddown at the top of the lass’s head. There was no way she was a smithy’s daughter, considering the quality of her gown was far better than a mere tradesman could afford. He knew enough about the clothes he’d removed from the various women in his life to know the difference. Hers was definitely high quality, clean too, and smelling oflavender.
So who was she then? Common village wenches didn’t often wear lady’s gowns or take scented baths. The essence coming from her hair and skin, even now, was captivating. Almost as much as her delicious body. Discovering the bonniest of any lass he’d ever encountered running into the root cellar made that mundane chore of exploring it for arms quite a pleasure. He had to admit, at least to himself, as he took his time checking her for weapons, those lush breasts of hers could surely hide a dagger if shechose.
But there was more. She’d hesitated when he asked who she was. Was she hiding her identity and if so, why? Who could be important enough? He was determined to find out all her secrets before their time was over. She’d stirred something in him he’d never felt before; a deep rushing need to learnmore.
All he ever wanted from a woman was to bed her and move on. This one, whom he’d only just met, intrigued him—of course he still wanted to bed her, more urgently with each passingsecond.
Tension rolled off her body in waves. He had wanted to see if his scar would frighten her, as it usually did most people upon first meetings. When she displayed courage instead, he’d been surprised. Had she seen much battle? How far would he have to push her to get the answers hesought?
He leaned down until his mouth was by her ear. “Who are you,lass?”
She jumped at his first word. “I already told you. My name is Meg and I’m the blacksmith’s daughter. No one ofconsequence.”
“Is that so? Hmmm.Interesting.”
He waited to see if she would take the bait. She’d just confirmed she had lied before and he waited to see if she would realize hermistake.
“Interesting how so, mylord?”
“You are a terrible liar, Maggie-Meg.”
Her back wentrigid.
Malcolm smiled.Caught.
“Tell me your realname.”
“I have already told you who I am. My name is Maggie, but some call me Meg. You have chosen to think I am lying and I cannot changethat.”
His smile grew. As did other parts of him. Something told him he would thoroughly enjoy this game and the longer she held out, the more he’d enjoyit.
