Page 16 of A Highland Rogue to Ruin

“James,” she muttered. “James, can we speak a moment—”

“Rose!” James continued.

She shivered again. The shouting grew in intensity. People were surrounding and harassing MacLeod, his horse growing agitated. “Cheater!” What? “We all saw ye try to shove Lady Brighde from her horse!”

MacLeod contorted his face in disbelief, and then something dark within him erupted.

“I never cheat!” he boomed, his eyes narrowing.

That voice… Sakes, so deep and rough. It littered memories across her skin she couldn’t place.

A volley of accusations rose around him. His ghostly mount tossed his head with more and more agitation.

“Have ye sunk so low, MacLeod, as to injure women for yer own gain…”

“Just like Owen,” MacDonald voices lamented around her, shaking heads. “Rotten to the core, the lot of them.”

James pulled her to the foot of the dais as hands patted her in solidarity. The Demon of the Seas blinked between the bodies and noise. Her breathing was still pumping. Sweat still trickled down her temples and between her shoulder blades and breasts. Confusion swirled.

That voice. Husky. Distinctive.

“Rose, a word.” James let her go and leaped up onto the dais.

She chased her brother up the steps, frantically looking around. “James.” She yanked on his doublet.

“Nay now, sister.” James held up an unyielding fist as if halting his retinue.

The dais was a flurry of activity. Laird Rose, the host of the faire, bedecked in a proud kilt, face fringed in a beard, spoke with the royal seneschal. Scribes draped in robes and shuffling parchments had their heads together talking when someone in the crowd threw an apple at MacLeod, and the roar of a brawl echoed across the green—

“Silence!” Laird Rose boomed. “I will have order!”

Brighde startled. Then froze. And Tormund’s brow furrowed, taking in her reaction.

The crowd quieted and turned toward the dais.

“I want justice for my sister,” James seethed. “MacLeod tried to shove her off. He knew she was a MacDonald.”

“Tormund is rough around the edges, aye, but I’ve never known him to harm a lass. Are ye sure ye wish to accuse him?”

James nodded stoutly.

Rose clasped James’s shoulder. “Give me a moment to confer with the officials.”

They thought MacLeod had cheated? MacLeod had done terrible things. He had done nothing but cross swords with her brother and attack Tioram to defend Owen. She should let him suffer for this. But her eyes flitted to him again, watching him deflect insults and projectiles with swift reactions, surrounded by an ever increasing rabble, as his men postured among the melee.

Never once backing down as their daggers unsheathed. Nay someone to be trifled with… Her demon’s words laced through her thoughts, though she couldn’t place why.

This was wrong.

And then his eyes landed on her again. They bore angrily into her, though if she didn’t know any better, she might call the dark glare hurt. Hurt?

She bit her lip, wrung her locket around her finger, only to realize it was the talon she’d been gifted, nay her locket at all, that she’d clung to all night in her sleep as she relived the awakening her demon had given her that had left her so blessedly warm and complete.

“James, I must speak with ye.” Alarm brewed in her stomach.

“What do the rules say about penalties for cheating…” murmured one of the officials.

More parchment shuffling, more muttering as the men assessed the olden rules.