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The Colquhoun men retreat and the MacGregors let them go without giving chase. There must be some code of battle that I don’t know or understand. Thomas passes by me. He glares down then turns his head and spits.
“Witch,” he mutters, making a sign with his forefinger and middle finger in my direction that looks vaguely like an eye.
“At least I’m not a rapist,” I say.
“You’d have loved it,” Thomas says, grabbing himself, walking backwards as he waggles.
I wretch as a well-timed wave of nausea hits me.
“Here!” Duncan yells. “Off with ya before I finish what we started.”
“S Rioghal Mo Dhream!” The men who saved me cheer.
Thomas breaks into a jog to catch up with the other Colquhouns. The group of them disappear over the rise.
I climb to my feet, trying to assess how badly I’ve been hurt.
“Sorry about that unpleasantness,” Duncan says at my shoulder. “Are ya all right?”
I turn towards him. As I do, he pulls a knife from his belt and slices the ropes on my wrists. My arms tingle as blood flow returns. I work my fingers then rub my wrists until the tingling eases.
“I am, mostly,” I say. I touch around my head but don’t find any blood, which is good. “I think.”
I run my hands down my legs. My jeans have a rip in the thigh, and I find more than one bruise, but nothing is broken and I’m not bleeding anywhere.
Bleeding…oh, lord.
I look at Duncan again, really seeing him. Blood coats his face and the other men have cuts too.
“Ach, that’s good.” His smile is open, honest, and friendly. It transforms his face, making it brighter somehow. His eyes capture my attention. I can’t look away from them. They’re a clear, icy blue, like the frozen waters of a crystal-clear spring. Staring into his eyes causes a fluttering sensation in my belly. “I’m Duncan. Duncan MacGregor.”
I lose myself in his beautiful eyes and as my heart races one thing becomes clear. I’m in a whole different kind of trouble with Duncan.
Chapter Six
“Huh?” I ask. I must be concussed. I gently shake my head and try to pull myself together.
Say something. Answer him. Name. Right, name. My name.
“Quinn. I’m Quinn.”
“Quinn,” he says. My name rolls off his tongue and a shiver races down my spine. His voice is a rich baritone. I want to hear him say my name again. And again. “Lovely to meet you. Might I ask, what are ya doin’ out so far?”
“I…” I trail off, not sure how to answer. I look around the empty grass, confirming as before there’s not a single sign of my friends, the dig, nothing. “I was with a group….”
“A group? Not that one, I hope?”
“Not them, no.” It should be around here though. I couldn’t have wandered that far in the fog. Could I? “I was with a group doing a dig.”
“A dig?” Duncan asks. “We’re ya harvesting, peat?”
“Peat? No…”
Blood runs from his nose and out of the corners of his mouth. His nose is swelling, and it looks like it might be broken but I can’t tell for sure by only looking. I latch onto his injury. It’s a problem I can do something about.
“Let me see your nose,” I say.
“Bah, it’s nothing,” Duncan says, smiling and waving a hand. Blood stains his teeth.
