Page 21 of A Highland Rogue to Ruin

His gaze dipped down to the winnings as if staring at a confusing theorem, then up to her. He folded his arms again. The strain of the weight seemed to pull on her shoulder, making her arm tremor.

“Nay.”

“Why no’?”

“I nay need yer charity alms, lass,” he spat. “Ye got all ye wanted from me.” His eyes dipped to Owen’s talon around her neck.

“All I wanted?” She palmed her chest. And she seemed to know exactly of what he spoke. Her cheeks pinkened and it was bonny as hell. “As I recall, ye got something ye wanted too, man.”

Tormund stepped closer, posturing over her, arms still folded. “I won a game, ’tis all.”

“Correction, I let ye win a game.” She held still, not stepping away, even though she quivered with fear beneath him. “Which means, in a sense, I won.”

Irritation bit. “I took far more from ye than I should have.”

“It wouldna’ be the first time, for I can remember fleets of balingers running hard toward our shores, frightening our bairns whilst I huddled with them in our buttery, worrying if my brother would return alive or draped in a sheet upon a litter, whilst ye robbed our castle bare and the hay in the yard burned from yer fire arrows.”

“What’s she saying, laird?” Ghost murmured darkly.

Tormund ignored his cousin. She remembered that? Then it meant she hadn’t been cloistered somewhere safe at all. She’d been hidden in plain sight, at home at Tioram all this time. Alone and isolated, watching life pass her by. And he could have hurt her in his quest for vengeance. His jaw clenched furiously at the thought of her trapped within that keep as flames lapped around her.

“So ye’d offer such a rogue another boon?” He nodded toward the purse and growled, so close he could smell the damn lavender again. “I stole from ye, angel.”

“Ye can nay steal what is freely given, demon,” she breathed back, hitching up her chin.

“Ye should have guarded it for a better man.” He stalked a slow revolution around her like a wolf, glare trained upon her gold-spun hair, itching to touch it.

“Why, when naybody else wanted it?”

“Bullshite.” He leaned down to her ear from behind. Noticed the gooseflesh pebbling her forearms. “Every man in Scotland wanted it, but was too afraid of yer brother to ask.”

“Except for ye, his gravest enemy,” she whispered.

“Except I never asked him. I reaved.” He completed his revolution.

“Ye nay reaved. Ye asked me,” she corrected on a thread of air. He said nothing. There was no mistaking the flash of hurt that glinted in her watery eyes at his silence, before she schooled it. “So I was a retaliation, then.”

Christ. He hooked her chin on his thumb. “I nay figured out who ye were until yer brother came looking.”

“Is this still about the coin?” Reaper hedged.

“Nay.” Both he and Brighde snapped at the same time.

Everyone froze at their perfect unison, as if one mind, and she slapped a hand over her mouth.

“Goodness, I’m sorry for yelling.” She reached out and took Reaper’s arm. “Forgive me.”

Reaper’s eyes widened with perplexity at being so carefully touched. Damnation, but the image of the outlaw with the strawberry-blond beard braided and body littered with scars gawping at Brighde’s hand as if it were a dragon straight from one of the bestiaries he’d read as a lad, was enough to quirk the corner of Tormund’s mouth.

He’d been charmed by her last night. Now Caleb Comyn, the afeared reaper, was getting a wee taste. Tormund scoured his mouth. She was so bloody sweet, placating his second-in-command, whose mission in life was to make his enemies suffer. He shook his head and looked out at the mountains as he slouched his hand below his waist. He wanted to hate her. But he couldn’t. What the hell was God playing at?

Niall, the bastard, began to chuckle and clapped his shoulder hard. “Hell, son. I’ve seen ye battle the toughest enemy, but never have I seen ye lose so pathetically.”

He scowled, turning back to Brighde. “Nay apologize to Reaper, angel,” he added. Angel? he heard Ghost murmur violently. “His meddling tongue gets what it deserves.”

“Reaper?” she questioned, as if testing out a new sound.

“I’ll give ye a guess as to why his name,” Tormund said.