Page 80 of A Highland Rogue to Ruin

“Tell me every word,” Tormund seethed, chest rising and falling like a bull preparing to charge.

She summoned a deep breath. Tried once more to touch him, but this time, he pushed her hand away and shook his head at her. Saw tears glistening in the torchlight, filling those blue eyes that would haunt him forever.

His furrow hardened.

“He said no’ to tell ye. He said he’d ken if I did—”

“His words,” Tormund ordered.

Finally, she stepped back, withdrawing and wrapping her arms around her waist as if hugging herself for comfort. He hated it. Hated to see this vibrant woman shrink from him. But he’d rather she be heartsick and alive, than dead.

Her next words were lifeless. “One MacDonald woman has already been sacrificed and I need nay be the next.”

Oh, Ghost will pay with his blood.

James cursed beside him.

“He told me to abandon our tryst so ye didna make the same mistake as Owen…though it seems as if ye’ve finally beaten me at something,” she added.

Her accusation, spoken with such sadness, gouged, but he’d not apologize for protecting her. Mayhap one day she’d see that.

“He said, ‘Owen left me no choice.’ Something about it being a shame we’ll ride into a trap on the morrow.”

That Brighde would soon no longer be a problem. Brodie meant to ambush, with or without him. And Tormund already knew from Brodie’s attack on Tioram over Christmastide, that he didn’t care one way or another if women were casualties.

…

“Over my dead body,” Tormund cursed.

He turned to James, conviction firming his chiseled face, the torchlight wavering upon the ragged scar on his neck.

“God be damned, we must act,” James growled.

“Take her home,” Tormund ordered.

He strode angrily away from her to retrieve Nykr, barking at his men to gather their weapons and mounts. Brighde could no longer bear it. She ran after him, grabbing his arm.

“I nay want to go home! I want to stay with ye—”

He wrenched his arm free. “Nay touch me, lass.”

“Ye told me I could, whenever I wanted,” she gasped.

His words rolled like thunder. “Go home. Away from me. Where ye’ll be safe. James! Collect her now!” Once more he stalked away as his men gathered up their arms.

She chased him again, limping on her injury. “Where I’ll be lonely and miserable! I nay want to be hidden away, watching life pass me by. I thought ye knew that! I do nay want to be safe! I’ll never be safe as long as I’m living! Nor will ye, or anyone else, for there is always some hardship waiting around the bend—”

He continued walking, not looking at her, and it was as if her words bounced off his impervious armor. Gathering Nykr’s reins, he swung them over the stallion’s head as she flurried around him.

“So ye cast me off instead? Like a dirtied rag ye have no more use for?”

He whirled to her and took her arms so swiftly, she flinched, yet he spoke softly.

“Nay ever liken yerself to that again. Ye will always be the most perfect woman I’ve ever known.”

He dropped her arms and turned away.

“Then why are ye doing this?” she begged.