Highland Barbarian Part 21

In one quick movement he looped the linen rope about her neck and drew her roughly toward him, until their faces were nearly touching.

"I could be persuaded."

Meredith's heart lurched. There was no mistaking Hol- den's meaning.

While he held the rope with one hand, his other hand moved to the fasteners of her s.h.i.+rt. When she resisted, he caught at the collar and pulled. With a ripping sound the fabric gave way and tore open, exposing a delicate lace chemise beneath.

"Please. I've..." She swallowed down the hard lump of fear. She must not scream. That would bring the entire staff of servants down upon her. And there was still a chance that she could break free and escape.

"I've never been with a man."

She saw the light that came into his eyes as he regarded her.

"All the better." He twisted the rope until he heard her sudden intake of breath. With mock seriousness he whispered,

"Forgive me, my lady. Am I choking you?"

Her hands clawed at the rope but he only twisted it more until her eyes swam with tears.

"Please." She struggled for a breath.

"I cannot breathe."

"Would you like me to loosen it, my lady?"

She nodded her head and clutched at his hands but he only laughed and gave the rope a final vicious twist.

"Do not fight me, Meredith MacAlpin. Soon you will lose consciousness.

And when you awaken, you will find out what it is that men have enjoyed from the beginning of time."

"Nay." She felt the floor tilt and the room begin to spin and still he would not relent. Though she kicked and fought and clawed at his hands he never loosened his hold on the rope.

She heard a strange buzzing in her ears, and tiny black specks seemed to float through the air. Though she fought the feeling, she was slipping, slipping. Her hands went limp and she felt her knees buckle.

As she slid to the floor he knelt over her and loosened the rope, then reached both hands to her torn s.h.i.+rt.

In some dark corner of her mind she heard the ripping sound as the s.h.i.+rt was torn from her.

Chapter Seven

Though she was barely conscious, Meredith continued to fight her attacker. She felt a sense of outrage as strong hands tore at her breeches. With no weapon, she used her fingernails to scratch and gouge at the offending hands. And when Holden ignored her feeble attempts, she sank her teeth into his hand, drawing a spurt of blood.

He was stunned by her determination. Though he had seen traces of her fire and spirit, he had convinced himself that this female would be cowed by his superior strength.

"Stupid wench."

He slapped her so hard her head was snapped to one side. Pain danced through a haze of bright stars before she fell back defeated.

As Holden's hands reached for her, a voice from the doorway caused him to pause in midair.

"Step away from the woman."

Holden turned to see Brice facing him. By the flickering flames of the fire, Holden could see the glint of a knife in Brice's hand.

Meredith's attacker felt a trickle of sweat mingle with the blood that oozed from his wounds. He recognized the look of fury that darkened Brice's features. There were many men he would fight for a beauty such as this one.

But never would he wish to fight Brice Campbell. Especially in a temper like this.

Thinking quickly he said,

"The wench called out to me. And when I entered your chamber she acted the part of a temptress. Look how she is dressed."

He scrambled quickly to his feet, stepping a little away from Meredith.

Brice saw, for the first time, the tight breeches, the gaping s.h.i.+rt.

Meredith opened her eyes and felt her head swim as she tried to sit up.

At a glance she took in Brice, dagger in hand, facing Holden. She felt a momentary rush of relief. Safe. Now she would be safe from her vicious attacker. It was Holden's words that sent her hopes plummeting.

"The wench thought if she could seduce me I would be persuaded not to tell you that she was trying to escape. But I remembered your orders, Brice. Though she put up a fierce struggle, I was able to keep her from slipping out the window."

Meredith thought about protesting. But why would Brice Campbell accept her word against that of one of his own men? With a feeling of desperation she lay back, prepared for even more punishment from the man who should have been her protector.

Brice took a step closer.

"Aye. I see the tunic and warm cloak folded atop a fur throw in preparation for travel. Woman, there is no denying that you intended once more to attempt an escape."

His gaze locked on the knotted rope of linen that trailed the floor.

"You are a clever la.s.s. You even prepared your escape from a dangerous height."

Suddenly his gaze followed the trail of linen rope from the window, to where it was still coiled loosely about her throat. Dark purple welts were already forming on her flesh. From the way her s.h.i.+rt fell open he knew that it had not been merely unfastened by a woman about to seduce.

It was rent nearly in two. And the torn breeches were further indictment.

His gaze lifted to Meredith's face. He saw the dull pain that glazed her eyes. And something else. Terror. Sheer terror.

His fury bubbled dangerously close to the surface. He felt the warmth of the dirk in his hand and fought a surging desire to bury it in Holden's ma.s.sive chest. What chance did a fragile, unarmed woman have against an animal like Holden Mackay?

In the blink of an eye the anger and guilt transferred from Holden to Brice himself. Who had left the la.s.s in this brute's hands? Who had foolishly thought that a man, far from the comfort of his own clan, could be trusted with the care of a prisoner as beautiful as Meredith MacAlpin?

Had it not been for his own complicity in this, Brice would have killed Holden Mackay for this ugly deed.

In a tightly controlled voice he rasped,

"Mackay, you will leave us.

You have violated someone under my protection. Return to your people.

You are no longer welcome in Kinloch House."