Page 347 of Wicked Highland Heroes

Iain pivoted on his heel, facing Kevin. “I have the right to do anything I please.”

“If you have the power,” Kevin sneered. “The

MacPhersons are not so vast.”

“The Clan Chattan is vast, indeed,” Iain said. “And my comrades will not take lightly to your threats. That is, if there is anything left to find offensive.”

“I warn you, MacPherson, we will have our justice.”

“Justice?” The lass strode to where he stood.

“What sort of man metes out such justice to a woman?

That is not a man, but a coward.”

“Who are you, woman, to interfere in the business of men?” Kevin demanded.

“She is to be my wife,” Iain answered.

“Your wife?” Kevin’s astonished gaze flicked from Iain to Victoria. “She is Sassenach.”

“That is better than being a cruelhearted Scot,” she countered.

“Cruel?” Kevin looked confused. “’Tis not cruel to seek justice.”

“Back to that again are we?” She snorted in contempt. “I wager you would not think it justice were I to beat you in the same manner.”

“Are you daft, woman?” Kevin’s face contorted with scorn and anger. “You could no more beat me than you could a dog.” He turned his attention away from her and focused on Iain. “You will not return

Jillian?”

“Now I think it is you who are daft,” she cut in again. “That is exactly what he said. Or are you too dull to understand simple English?”

Kevin’s hand clenched. Iain shoved her aside and slammed his fist into Kevin’s jaw. The man crumpled to the floor, sending dust motes shooting upward from the dried rushes that lay about him.

“Throw him out,” Iain yelled to the nearby men. He faced the lass, seized her arm, and shoved her into the arms of the closest warrior. “Take her to her cottage and see that she stays there.” He strode across the room and out the postern door.

Dark clouds scudded beyond the castle towers as he scanned the battlements for Thomas. His cousin stood talking with two men on the west ramparts and Iain motioned him down.

“I want you to deliver a message,” Iain said as Thomas took the last steps down the narrow staircase.

“Make sure the Robertsons understand that, while they may mistreat their women, they do not enjoy the same perverse privilege with MacPherson women.”

“Mon Dieu. What happened?”

Iain couldn’t halt the working of his fists at his side. “He thought to strike the lass.”

Thomas stared. “Why?”

The hard lines around Iain’s mouth softened. “I suppose you could say he does not care for outspoken women.”

* * *

Iain’s even strides didn’t falter until he stood outside the lass’s cottage. He halted, hand against the thick wood of the door and listened for any sounds.

No noises filtered through.

Perhaps his long-time friend and kinsmen Johannas wasn’t sequestered in the lady’s cottage as he’d been told. It wouldn’t be the first time gossip was in error. The possibility that Johannas would betray him had seemed inconceivable even while Iain had listened to the tale of how the two had been alone the entire afternoon. Still, the lack of sound was no proof of anything. With a hard push, he shoved the door open.