Page 11 of Sweet Hellion

Chapter Five

The wee lass felt so frail in his arms. For a time, he simply held her as he’d held the widows of his men after he had told them their men had died. Wars were fought on the battlefield as well as on the hearths of homes. Finally, Emma lifted her head, her eyes red-rimmed and swollen.

“Perhaps you should rest.” He nodded toward the stairs.

She shook her head and stepped out of his arms. “I have mending that is long overdue. Already, I will be up half the night.”

His gaze dropped to her hands, far too roughened for his liking. She was fit for the parlor and entertaining in a drawing room, not laboring long after dark. After dark she should be in his bed—

He started from his thoughts. Bloody hell, he’d promised Tory he would ensure his sister’s safety, not bed her. Rhys turned and returned to the wheel he’d been working on. He’d promised to have it mended on the morrow.

“I will stay until matters are settled,” he said.

“Matters?” she said, but before he could reply, she added, “I cannot ask you to leave your home. Your friends will worry about you.”

He shook his head. “I sent them a message from the tavern. They know I am in Inverness.” Rhys realized how his earlier words might be misconstrued, and added, “I will work in the shop, but will find lodgings nearby. I didnae mean to be presumptuous.”

“Nonsense.” Emma pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and blew her nose as she nodded down the narrow hall opposite the stairs. “Father kept a room for apprentices there. You are welcome to stay.”

Rhys hesitated. “Your reputation…”

Emma snorted. “I am a fallen woman. Besides, you will be in the shop and I will stay above.”

He didn’t like the arrangement, yet neither did he care for Munro sniffing around the place. The lass was exceptionally beautiful. No doubt, the man intended to take advantage of her situation.

“For a bit, then,” he agreed. Only until he was certain Munro wouldn’t return.

“That’s settled, then,” she said. “I will make some porridge. I have nothing else, at the moment.” Without waiting for his response, she disappeared down the hall.

She had only porridge? Rhys expelled a breath. This would be the last day she would eat just porridge.

When Rhys woke the next morning, the first thing he noticed was how rested he felt. Had he slept so well in months…or even years? He’d worked long into the night, finishing the wheel as Emma sewed silently in the corner, taking care to share the candlelight. The lass lived so frugally. She’d clearly struggled to hold onto the shop. That she’d held onto it for Tory tugged at his heart.

He rose and washed in a bucket of water Emma had drawn from the well, then returned to the shop. He set the finished wheel outside, then began organizing the shop. After a time, he realized that the continued silence from the floor above meant Emma had left already. Rhys rolled up his sleeves. She needed a husband. How he might procure one for her stumped him, but he would find her one, nonetheless. Meanwhile, he could mend wheels.

The day passed quickly, and before the evening church bells rang, he’d sharpened the tools, collected his fee for the mended wheel, and procured work for the next three days. He’d just returned from introducing himself to the blacksmith when he spied Lord Munro’s horse, tied outside the shop’s front door. Bloody hell. Rhys strode inside and followed the voices that emanated from the kitchen.

He arrived as Emma said, “Only a dishonorable man would make such an offer. You, sir, are no gentleman.” Her blue eyes flashed as she faced Lord Munro, who stood with his back to the door. A table arrayed with bowls, cups and baking goods separated them.

“Come, now. You’re well versed in the ways of men.” Lord Munro lunged toward her.

Rhys leapt after him, but before he could intervene, Emma snatched a wooden bowl from the table and swung it at the man’s head. At the resounding smack, Lord Munro staggered back, swearing, and crashed into Rhys.

Munro spun. “Macleod, what are you doing here?”

“I am here to defend the lady’s honor.” Rhys glanced at Emma. “But I see she has the situation in hand.”

Munro’s head snapped in Emma’s direction. “So, you have taken up with him. You’re the whore I knew you were, lifting your ski—”

“Silence!” Rhys grabbed him by the back of the collar and dragged him down the hallway toward the door.

Munro twisted in an effort to free himself. Rhys grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back. Emma raced ahead and yanked the door open. Rhys shoved him out the door and into the street. The man sprawled onto the cobblestones. He scrambled to his feet.

“This is my final warning,” Rhys said. “Never return.”

Fury burned in Munro’s eyes. He stared for two heartbeats, then yanked his horse’s reins free of the post, mounted, and clattered away without a backwards glance.

Rhys closed the door, then faced Emma. Her face had gone ashen.