The woman whimpered and snuffled, and the men just stood there, watching Rose as if she were a wild animal, which she supposed she was at the moment. Shefeltwild—capable of nearly anything—which was both frightening and exhilarating.
“Now!” she bellowed to emphasize her point. The woman she held flinched and let out a squeak of terror.
But still the men made no move to comply with her demands. Rose was scrambling for her next course of action when she noted the blond man’s gaze dart to something behind her.
Rose tried to jerk around, but she wasn’t quick enough. Her wrist was seized and her dirk yanked downward, away from the woman’s throat. Another arm snaked around her waist and hauled her off her feet. The woman ran, throwing herself into the blond man’s arms. Rose fought her captor, frenzied with fear and confusion, legs kicking gracelessly in the air, her free arm flailing. The hand holding her wrist squeezed until she dropped the dirk.
Her captor dropped her abruptly. She fell hard on her posterior, knocking the air from her lungs. She scrambled around, gasping for air and wincing at the pain in her backside.
“Dumhnull!” she gasped, then shut her mouth tightly. She didn’t want to cause him trouble, but she feared it was too late. She glanced at the other men. The black-haired one frowned severely at Dumhnull.
The groom leaned over to pick up her dirk, avoiding her gaze. His head was uncovered now, and she saw that he was older than she’d initially thought. Gray streaked his black hair, and though his face was unlined, the set of his jaw was rigid, and his beautiful eyes were hard and flat.
He was angry with her for her brutal entrance after his kindness. She couldn’t blame him. She wondered if he would help her still, or even if he could, as a mere groom. She continued to gaze at him, her heart still racing, but he refused to look at her. She was caught now, at their mercy, without a single ally. She closed her eyes, rejecting the urge to capitulate. She was here, in Strathwick. She couldn’t give up yet.
She turned her attention to the other men. “I’m here to see Lord Strathwick. I’ll not leave until I see him.” Her bravado elicited some amused glances and an exclamation of disbelief from the black-haired man, but she rose to her knees and raised her chin.
The comely black-haired man stepped forward, his mouth curved into a sneer of contempt.“I’mLord Strathwick.”
A jolt of surprise went through Rose. She closed her eyes in horror. This was worse than she’d thought. It would have been bad enough having him hear about what she’d done secondhand; she still might have been able to talk her way out of it, charm him. But he’dwitnessed her chasing one of his people down and holding a dirk to her throat.
Against her will and pride, she looked back at Dumhnull, unable to hide the blind panic building inside her. He still would not look at her. He tapped her dirk thoughtfully against his thigh, staring at his chief with an odd intensity.
Rose turned back to Strathwick. She spread her hands before her, trying to appear submissive and contrite—not difficult, as she still knelt in the dirt. “I pray you, my lord, just hear me out. If you still refuse me after speaking to me, I vow to leave you in peace.”
Lord Strathwick approached her slowly, his slashing black brows lowered over dark blue eyes. He circled her, looking her up and down. Finally he stood before her, his expression scornful, but he said, “Very well, then. Follow me.” His gaze jerked behind her. “You, too,Dumhnull.”He turned abruptly and stalked toward the castle.
Rose let out an astonished breath, weakness flooding her limbs.
Dumhnull grasped her arm and pulled her to her feet. “Looks as if you’ve gotten your way, miss.”
From his grim expression, she wasn’t at all certain that was a good thing.
Chapter 3
Rose’s heart beat furiously as Dumhnull led her through the castle. “Forgive me for speaking your name,” Rose whispered, looking up at him anxiously. “I hope I didn’t cause you any trouble.”
He kept his gaze fixed straight ahead, the sapphire color of his eyes hidden by thick, sooty lashes. He was dressed finer today, in close-fitting trews that accentuated his long, muscular legs, a leather doublet and a red-and-black plaid mantle slung over his wide shoulders. She wondered if he was really a groom.
“No trouble,” he said without sparing her a glance.
Rose slanted another look at him as she hurried to keep up with his brisk pace. “You are vexed with me.”
He finally looked at her, arching a dark brow. “Why should I be vexed?”
“Because you warned me away and I did not take your advice.”
“I didn’t think you would.”
“Really?” she said, surprised by this revelation. “Then why did you bother?”
The look he gave her was enigmatic and dark, sending a strange thrill through her that centered somewhere inthe pit of her belly. She quickly averted her eyes from that gaze, unnerved to find herself responding to it, and instead studied the room they’d just entered.
They were in a dark, cavernous hall. Swords and shields adorned the walls. An enormous wooden candelabrum hung from the rafters, the candles cold, but a large fireplace at the end of the hall blazed. Trestle tables and benches lined the walls, leaving the center of the hall clear and sprinkled with fragrant rushes. The MacKay chief sprawled into his chair before the fire. He snapped his fingers at Dumhnull. “Get me a drink.”
Dumhnull stiffened, and his eyes narrowed slightly. He bowed. “And what do you wish to drink, my lord?”
Lord Strathwick regarded the groom keenly, a small, strange smile about his mouth. “Mulled wine.” When Dumhnull inclined his head, Strathwick added, “Mull it yourself.”
