Part 22 (1/2)

Holden experienced a wild surge of relief. He had feared, from the savage look in Brice's eyes, that he would have to battle him to the death. But just as quickly the relief disappeared, to be replaced by a growing sense of wrath.

”Aye.” Holden's eyes glinted with sudden anger.

”Turn on your old friends from the north for the sake of a wench who has bewitched you.

But the day will come when you will regret this. On that day, when you need the might of the Mackay armies, we will remember this night and take up arms with your enemy.”

”So be it.”

Holden thought about killing the man who all but ignored him while he studied the woman. Brice's head would be quite a prize to take to his people. The name Brice Campbell still brought fear to the hearts of men in the Highlands. But Holden was aware of the barely controlled fury in the man, and knew that with Brice in such a rage he had no chance to win. Without another word he turned and fled.

Brice fell to his knees and touched a finger to the bruises about Meredith's throat.

”The lout choked you.”

At the intimacy of his touch she flinched and tried to back away from him.

”Do not touch me.”

”I must examine your wounds.” When he tried to subdue her she mistook his intentions and began wrestling for control of the knife still held firmly in his other hand.

He saw the raw emotions in her eyes and cursed himself for his clumsiness. Tossing aside the dirk he lifted both palms to her to prove that he meant her no harm.

”I am unarmed, my lady. I wish only to make amends for what has been done.”

At his submissive gesture Meredith felt the p.r.i.c.kle of tears against her lids and blinked furiously. She must not let him see her weakness.

”Do not touch me. I can--take care of myself.”

The more she tried to be brave, the more helpless Brice felt.

With a savage oath he yanked the rope free and tossed it aside. Then he lifted her in his arms and strode across the room. Kicking open the door to the bedchamber, he crossed the fur-strewn floor and laid her gently upon his bed.

The room was dim except for the flickering flames of the fire. His voice was as still and hushed as the night that seemed to have wrapped them in its soft, dark cloak.

”Forgive me, Meredith. It never occurred to me that one of my own men would be the cause of such pain.”

When she did not respond he whispered,

”I regret that I must cause you further discomfort.” As he spoke he reached his hands to the waistband of her breeches.

”There is blood upon your clothing. I must find the source.”

”Nay. Nay.” Though she tried to fight him, he managed to remove the torn clothing.

Beneath the breeches and s.h.i.+rt her ivory chemise bore more traces of blood. But when he untied the ribbons that laced the chemise across her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, she cried out so sadly he was forced to stop.

He sat on the edge of the bed and leaned close, placing his hands on either side of her head.

”Holden has hurt you, Meredith. You are bleeding. Let me help you.”