Page 31 of Steel & Surrender

Sniggers behind him made her already hot cheeks burn like forge embers.

“Face it, Brìghde … I’ve just sullied yer reputation. Everyone now knows how eager ye were for me … how ye begged for it.”

She jerked in shock. “What—”

“Aye, I’ve told them about it all.”

“But ye made the whole thing up.” She choked out the words, mortification prickling her skin.

“It’s yer word … against mine, lass.” His fingers flexed against her shoulders. “Come on … it’s time ye stopped fighting this. It’s not right for a woman of yer age to be running a forge. Ye need a man’s protection.”

She stilled, meeting his gaze squarely now. “And that man is ye?”

His smile widened. “Aye … ye will help me farm our land and bear me strapping sons.”

Her pulse slowed. He had it all planned out; whether she was willing or not didn’t seem to matter. All that did was that she conformed. That she knew her place.

Calmness settled over her then, and she forced her lips to curve into a half-smile. “Ye will be my protector then, Ian?”

His chest swelled. “Aye.”

He took another step closer, his grip on her shoulders tightening. “Ye are mine, Brìghde … ye always have been.”

A heartbeat pulsed, and then she moved—her knee slammed upward, straight into his groin.

Ian grunted, releasing her shoulders and reeling back.

She watched then as the color drained from his face. Eyelids fluttering, he sank to his knees.

Behind him, some of the drinkers cheered, while others choked on their ales.

Brìghde’s gaze swung to them. “Ian Maclean lies.” Her voice cut through the noise. “If ye believe him, ye’re fools.”

That quietened them down.

She looked back at where Ian clutched his injured groin, groaning like a winded carthorse.

She’d kneed him hard, had put every bit of strength into it.

Aye, she’d brought the poker with her, but the weapon had been to give her courage.

A knee to the cods was the right punishment for such slander.

“Bitch,” he wheezed.

Brìghde ignored him. “Make sure ye tell yer friends and families about what ye witnessed here,” she told the drinkers, stepping back now. “But tell it right.”

Tobermory,

Northern Mull

The noise inside The Bonnie Badger was raucous. Deafening.

The perfect spot to drink the night away.

Greig and Davy sat at a table in the center of the floor, playing knucklebones with a group of Mackinnons. They’d arrived shortly before dusk and eaten a supper of greasy mutton and coarse bread.

Greig had lost count of how many ales they’d downed.