Part 14 (1/2)

”My nephew?” Red Alex said, walking closer.

Soon his face was visible, if shadowed, and Fayth wished again she'd killed him when the opportunity had presented itself. She kept her head down, prayed he would not recognize her, knowing that for a fool's wish. When he was beside Bear's withers, she drew the dirk up, to threaten him. His hand clamped down on her wrist, twisting and squeezing until her fingers sprang open, dropping the dirk to the ground.

He did not release her. She met his blue eyes, burning into hers. He was smiling and she mimicked it, her lips curling, her breath hissing between bared teeth.

”Ah, of course,” he said, his voice thick with satisfaction. ”My nephew.”

0=”6”6.

HIS GRIP DIDN'T LESSEN as he dragged her from Bear's saddle, then pulled her into the clearing. Several crude shelters had been erected in the border manner-thatch and mud, easy to construct, no great loss if destroyed. She guessed there were maybe two dozen men, but didn't have the opportunity to count. He shoved her into the largest of the shelters. She stumbled several paces, rubbing her arm. He let the rug that served as a door fall shut. The one-room shelter was lit by a candelabra-stolen, she was certain. There was a pallet and blankets, the remains of a meal, and a wad of bloodied linen. There was also a wide array of weaponry.

Fayth lunged for a Lochaber ax leaning against the wall, but he was quicker, grasping the neck of her tunic and jerking her back. She swung, her balled fist making contact with stubbled jaw. His head snapped back, but he held fast. She swung again. He caught her wrist, twisting it behind her back. She clawed at his face with her other hand, but he caught that one, too. It soon joined the other, pinned to the small of her back. She kicked at his ankles and s.h.i.+ns. He held both her wrists in one hand, hauling her up against his body, oblivious to her struggles. He yanked the cap from her head and buried his hand in her hair.

Her heart slammed against her ribs, certain he would now finish what he'd begun back at Annancreag, then later beside a deserted stream. And he would be angry, too, that both times she'd bested him-wounded him. Unmanned him. He would be brutal, punis.h.i.+ng. She braced herself for the worst. She would not make it easy for him.

He tugged at her hair, pulling her head back so she was forced to glare up into his face. Into his calm, measured stare.

”And still, no cries for help,” he mused. ”Not even a whisper.”

She stilled at his unruffled expression. He was not burning with l.u.s.t for vengeance. Whatever punishment he planned to administer, he would do it with his wits intact.

”Who would help me here?”

His eyes narrowed slightly, though he didn't seem angry. ”They think you a lad?”

She stared at him, uncomprehending.

His grip on her hair tightened. ”Skelley, Laine, Eliot? They believe you a lad?”

Fayth nodded. The fingers tangled in her hair relaxed, though didn't release.

”Good. 'Tis better that way.”

”What's better?” He opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, she said, ”You like the boys? Is that it?”

To her surprise, rather than strike her in fury, as Ridley would have, he smiled. A wide-eyed, genuine smile, and laughed.

”G.o.d, but you've a wicked tongue.” He lowered his head, his smile becoming wolfish. ”I told you before, little one. Dinna seek to insult my manhood or I'll be forced to prove my virility. And you're the only la.s.s in miles.”

Her skin felt overhot, tight. She was suddenly unable to swallow properly, her mouth dry as sand. Unbidden, the memory of when he kissed her at Annancreag intruded. She'd let him do it, had been forced to play along, act a wh.o.r.e. But for a moment... for a small, isolated moment, she'd forgotten entirely that she was acting. Had felt every inch the wanton in his arms. And had hated him for making her betray Jack's memory in such a way. Even now her body quickened, pressed against him, his fingers ma.s.saging her scalp, just as it had back at the stream, when he had stolen her breath with wanting. It repulsed her, this traitorous response to him.

She turned her face away, staring at the wall. ”Do what you will and get it over with. I'm sure it won't take long.”

Again he laughed and, to her surprise, he released her hair. ”I'll let you go now but it's only so we might talk. Will you behave? If not, I'll have to bind you.”

She nodded and he stepped away. She sighed, relieved for the distance he put between them. She rubbed her wrists, though he hadn't hurt her. She wanted him to think he had. Best if he underestimated her. He stepped back to the doorway and peered out. She was struck again by his incredible size. His broad shoulders blocked the doorway. He had to bend his head to look through the opening. Why had he still not harmed her, after all that had happened? He was Red Alex, notorious reiver. He was as responsible as Wesley for keeping the feud between their clans alive this past year when others had tried for peace. He'd murdered dozens of Grahams, stolen hundreds of Graham kine and horses. He loathed her family as she did his. Why was he now so mild with her? It made no sense.

”Talk then,” she said.

He dropped the rug back in place, turning to her, his hands folded over his chest. ”Twice now, you have spared my life.”