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“Look, fellows. What have we here?” A burly man with a straggly, sand-colored beard grinned at her, exposing grey, crooked teeth. His grubby uniform jacket hung open, exposing a sweat-stained shirt beneath.
His lurid gaze traveled down the black cape to her feet. She was conscious of the grass between her toes, which reminded her that her feet were bare. What would he think? His focus shifted from her feet to the opening of the cape, which she clung to in a desperate effort to keep it closed.
“I suppose you’re looking for those.” He pointed to where another man held up her plain white bra and panties.
“Well, well, men. It seems the lass must be naked under that cloak.”
Sandy-Beard stepped toward her and she backed up, bumping against a tree. A bitter taste filled her mouth as adrenaline flooded her system. Her whole body trembled uncontrollably.
“I bet she’s up for a bit of fun.” His voice lowered to a gritty huskiness. “And I’d sure be willing to show you a bit of fun, lass.”
Suddenly, three other men began to crowd around her, and terror squeezed the breath from her.
“Aye, and we would, too, Clancy.”
He shoved them back. “One at a time, lads.” His sneering lips curled into a caricature of a smile. “Or maybe two. But not ’til I’ve had my go.”
Dizziness overwhelmed her, but she fought it as she tried to ease sideways to use the same trick as she had on the tall, dark stranger -- funny, she hadn’t felt the same kind of fear with him -- and escape to the side, but the man’s hand shot out to rest against the tree on her right, trapping that escape route. The other soldiers loomed on the left so she’d have nowhere to run.
As he reached for her, terror built within her like an inferno. He clamped his hand around her shoulder, his bony fingers digging into her flesh, and grasped the clasp at her neck.
She felt faint as she tried to stifle memories that still haunted her nightmares. Memories of the young woman who used to keep house for her father. The image of the woman, hands fastened above her head, clothes stripped from her body. She had screamed as the soldiers rammed into her, over and over again. Those screams still echoed through Shena’s body.
“Remove your hand from her, or you’ll lose it.”
The stranger’s voice! She turned her gaze to see him standing at the edge of the clearing. Tall. Dark. Ominous-looking.
“Who the ’ell are you?” her captor demanded.
The dark stranger stepped forward, bringing his hand to the hilt of his sword. All the soldiers backed away except the man holding her.
“I said, remove your hand.” The words came out as a low warning, but an undercurrent of rage carried clearly in his tone.
Her captor hesitated, but he reluctantly pulled his hand from her shoulder. “What’s it to you, stranger?”
Chapter Two
Keern had to use all the control he could muster not to strike down the man holding the frightened woman in his grip.
He reached for her arm and drew her away from her captor. To his surprise, she flung herself against his side and wrapped her arms around his waist. As she buried her face against his chest, he allowed his left arm to circle her waist, tucking her tightly against him.
“She’s my woman,” he lied, wishing it were so.
The man’s eyes narrowed, but he stepped back. “You shouldn’t let her go running around tempting a man to distraction like that. After all, if a man sees a naked ankle, can a naked thigh be far behind?”
“You are trespassing. This land belongs to my family.”
The man narrowed his eyes.
“No, this land rightfully belongs to Henry Wakefield. He gave us permission to be here.”
Anger simmered through him. Will would never give up this beautiful place.
“He has no right to give you permission. My name is Herrington, and this land has been in my family for five generations. I do not take lightly to being called a liar.”
The woman pressed to his side stiffened. He stroked her back reassuringly. If not for her, he’d take these lying, undisciplined oafs, but he didn’t want to do anything to frighten her more.
Uncertainty flickered in his opponent’s eyes.
