Keeping his balance, he moved into the room, and he heard his friends drag the man away from the door. They’d secure him until he could ensure Joss was okay.
He found her crouched in the corner, loud, racking sobs escaping her mouth. When she looked up, he saw her battered face, the beading of blood on her neck.
That fucking bastard! Wanting to go out and pound the fucker’s face into pulp, he needed to be strong for Joss.
Dropping to his knees beside her, he assessed her wounds, trying to keep his anger in check, but failing.
“’Tis okay, love. I’ve got ye.”
She leaped into his arms, wrapping herself around him, and sobbed into his neck, her whole body shaking. “I, I. He walked into the house. I d-don’t know how. I ran, slow, because of my ankle. He blocked the d-door. I thought, m-maybe d-down here would lead outside.”
“Shhh,” he coaxed, stroking her hair, trying to get her to catch her breath.
“You are laying with my wife!” Townsend spat from the other room. “I’ll have you hanged. Oof!” Gunn couldn’t see, but he kenned the sound of a punch to the gut well.
Jocelyn winced, her breath coming normally now. She pulled back to look at him. “I thought he was going to kill me. But thenwe heard you, and he stopped. She lifted her hand, and her eyes widened, her gaze moving to his shoulder. “You’re bleeding.”
He tore off a strip of his shirt and dabbed at her nose. “Ye are, too.” He shrugged off her concern. “Dinna fash. We need to get ye upstairs. E’eryone is fashed.”
Picking her up, he settled her into his arms. “Ye all right?”
She nodded, and he exited the room, took note of Townsend doubled over in the corner and carried her upstairs. The women surrounded them as soon as he walked up the stairs.
“Och!”
“Jocelyn!”
“Lay her on the sofa. We will see to her,” Gwen said, shooing him away. She grabbed his arm and looked at him fiercely. “Ye do what ye need to do. She needs to be free from that monster.”
He nodded, then hurried back downstairs.
His friends had Townsend in a chair. The man looked at him with a sneer.
Quite daring for a man in his position. And also one that looked like he had to beat on women because he sure as hell couldn’t beat on a man.
“You’re fucking my wife,” he spat. “Mywife.”
“Real men dinna treat their wives with heavy hands and beatings.”
“She needs to be reminded of her place.”
Gunn’s fist met with the man’s nose, a vicious crack sounding, and Gunn kenned he’d broken it.
He grasped his face, trying to staunch the blood. “You bastard. You broke my nose!”
“Aye. How’s it feel? How do ye like being on the other side of a fist?”
He swung again, catching him in the ribs. And again, to the ribs, knowing they were cracking under the weight of his fists.
Malcolm pulled him off. “Enough, brother.”
“Ye have nay right to her anymore. Got it? Ye will divorce her, set her free, and ne’er step foot in Scotland again, or I swear to God, I will be sure ye ne’er take another breath.”
“Are ye threatening me?” Townsend wheezed, his ribs making it hard to breathe.
“Ye tried to kill a laird. That will no’ go o’er well for ye,” Finlay said. “In the presence of two dukes, no less.”
“And two earls,” Nicholas added.
