Page 27 of The Laird's Wicked Game
“I appreciate yer instruction … but I won’t be sparring with ye any longer.”
In truth, as much as she’d wanted to improve her skills, putting up with such a smarmy instructor had sorely tested her patience. She hungered to become a warrior to be reckoned with, but even she had her limits.
Misgiving arrowed through her then.What are ye doing, lass? By rights, she should have set off for Meggernie Castle days ago, yet she’d lingered here instead.
Tormod folded his arms across his chest. “Can’t weather being beaten every time?”
Makenna eyed him warily, her mood sobering further. He was an attractive man, with his silky white-blond hair and tall, lean frame—and he fought like a fiend—but over the past days, she’d grown increasingly uncomfortable in his presence. Kylie was right: it was time to end her training with him.
“I’ll be leaving soon,” she replied with a shrug.
He snorted a laugh. “The Meggernie Guard can’t do without ye?”
“No.”
He sheathed his own sword. “I’m surprised the men at yer father’s castle get any work done … with such a bonnie lass serving amongst them.”
Makenna resisted the urge to sneer. Tormod’s comments, which she’d brushed off during their initial sessions, had now started to vex her. The warrior didn’t know when to hold his tongue. “I shall take my leave now, MacDougall,” she said coolly. “I imagine ye have somewhere else ye’d rather be anyway.”
He inclined his head. “On the contrary … I’ve enjoyed fighting with ye. Will ye take a drink with me in the guard hall?”
Makenna shook her head. “My sister is waiting for me.” That wasn’t a lie. Usually, at this hour, she and Kylie would share a wine together in the lady’s solar.
“Lady Grant can wait.”
“I think not.” Makenna took a step backward then. “Thank ye for taking the time to train with me … but yer evenings are now yer own.”
With that, she favored him with a nod, turned, and headed for the door that led down the guard stairwell to the barmkin. And as she walked away, the skin between her shoulder blades itched. The warrior was staring at her.
Eager to be out of his sight, she quickened her pace, pulled open the door, and entered the narrow stairwell. However, she’d only gone down a few steps when a hand closed around her upper arm, yanking her backward. The move was so fast that she didn’t have time to retaliate or pull away.
The grip on her arm turned iron, and a hard male body collided with her back before a hot breath feathered across her cheek. “Not so fast, lass,” Tormod rasped. “It’s time ye thanked me …properly.”
An instant later, a rough hand grasped hold of her left breast and squeezed hard.
11: NOT A MAN LIGHTLY CROSSED
MAKENNA CURSED.
AN instant later, she moved. Not away from her assailant but toward him. She drove her elbow into his gut and arched backward, attempting to smack him in the face with the back of her head. Unfortunately, though, the knave was standing on the step above her, which gave him an advantage.
All the same, the whoosh of the air escaping his lungs, as she winded him, was satisfying. Her surge of victory didn’t last long though before he grabbed hold of her hair and yanked her head back.
Fire lanced across Makenna’s scalp, even as fury slammed into her.
She’d felt safe back at Meggernie. Although some of the men were mouthy or flirtatious, none would have dared lay a hand on the clan-chief’s daughter.But they weren’t in her family’s castle now, and this warrior wasn’t like any of those she’d learned to fight with.
Tormod MacDougall was dangerous; she’d known that from the moment she’d seen him try to throttle another man in the barmkin on the day she arrived here. But, foolishly, she’d thought she could both learn from him and keep the man at bay. Kylie had warned her to watch herself around him, but she shrugged off her sister’s concerns.
I should have listened to her.
She hadn’t met a man yet whom she feared—but underneath the anger that surged through her veins, anxiety now flared.
She’d driven her elbow into Tormod’s stomach hard enough to bring most men to their knees, but the bastard still gripped her breast, his fingers digging in painfully.
It was clear exactly what he wanted—and he’d take it by force.
Panic bubbled up then. She’d always thought she’d be the last woman to be cornered by a randy man, or raped. This couldn’t be happening.