Page 106 of Ghost of the Ton

“Meddling hure!” he snarled. “Ye need teaching a lesson.”

“And you’re the man to do it?” she said. “Is this how you’ve cowed Evie into submission such that she’s too frightened to ask for help when she’s unwell? I—Oh!”

He shook her roughly, then pushed her back until she slammed against the wall. She tried to wrench free, but he only gripped her more tightly, causing her to groan in pain.

“Hamish should have turned ye out the day ye darkened Glenblath with yer poisonous ways,” he growled. “And now ye’re going to spread yer poison across the clan, tricking the foolish into believing that ye’re saving us? Just like the witches of old, ye are, and ye need to be stopped.”

“I’m trying to help the people here,” Mia said.

“Quiet, hag!”

Mia kicked out and connected with his shin. He loosened his grip, enabling her to pull free, then backhanded her across the face. Mia stumbled backward with a scream, her vision blurred with tears of pain.

“Foolish lass!” Murdoch snarled. “There’s none to help ye, and many who’ll thank me for giving ye a thrashing. Ye’re a—”

He broke off as there was a knock at the door.

“Get ye gone!” he cried.

“No!” Mia screamed. “Please—help me!”

The knocking came again, this time harder, then it stopped and Murdoch let out a laugh.

“See?” he said. “We all want ye gone.”

“Murdoch, please,” she said. “Don’t do anything you might regret.”

“I’ll not regret putting a woman in her place. I only regret I didnae do it sooner. I—”

A splintering crash filled the air as the door burst open. A huge man barreled through the doorway, stumbled on the floor, then righted himself. With a roar, he sprinted toward them. Mia raised her hands to defend herself against further assault, but none came. Instead, Murdoch was pulled off her and thrown to the side.

“How dare ye!” a deep voice bellowed.

Hamish…

His hair gleaming in the fading sunlight, eyes glowering with fury, he advanced on Murdoch. “Take yer filthy hands off my wife!” he roared. “Nobody touches my woman.”

“But Hamish, she—”

“Be silent before yer laird! Speak again and I’ll have ye banished from Glenblath. Touch my wife again and I’ll sever yer hands from yer body then feed them to the swine.”

Mia scrambled to her feet and backed away from the two men who were circling each other like stags in rut.

Indignation coursed through her veins. She was no female beast to be fought over and taken by the strongest—not when the man she’d married had no claim to her at all because he’d forsaken her. But she couldn’t suppress the primal pulse that swelled low in her belly at the thought of being claimed by a man who, in his flame-haired, broad-chested fury, was bestial, potent, and utterly masculine.

“Ye’ve been bewitched by a hure, Hamish,” Murdoch said. “I’ll—”

He broke off as Hamish slammed his fist into his jaw. As Murdoch staggered backward, Hamish caught his hand, then drew out a knife.

“Did ye touch her with this hand, Murdoch?”

The other man nodded, the arrogance in his expression replaced by fear.

“Then this hand is forfeit.”

Horror curled in Mia’s heart at the determined expression in Hamish’s dark eyes.

“I shall not take it today, Murdoch, but henceforth, this hand belongs to me. If it offends me, I’ll take it. Do ye understand?”