Page 28 of The Laird's Wicked Game

But it was, and she had to get away.

She stepped up, the heel of her boot crushing his foot, and arched back once more. This time, the back of her head smacked into his nose.

Tormod cursed, stopped groping her breast, and ripped open her laced vest instead.

The devil was lithe in build, but he was deceptively, and formidably, strong. He pressed the length of his body against her then, his arousal grinding into her backside. “Feel that, lass,” he growled. “Ye’re going to enjoy having it plow ye.”

Fury washed over Makenna in a hot tide. If the bastard tried putting his rod anywhere near her, she’d cut it off. Snarling a curse of her own, she deliberately let her body sag. The move caught him off-guard, and she lurched forward. Using the distraction she’d created to her advantage, she reached down and whipped out the thin blade she always carried in her boot.

Tormod didn’t know it was there—but he was about to find out.

Not hesitating—even as his brutal fingers tore open the lèine beneath her vest and kneaded her breast cruelly—she drove the blade into his arm.

The warrior roared. And this time, he did release her.

Heedless of the steep stairs or the fact her lèine and vest were ripped open, her breasts exposed, Makenna fled down the steps.

“Bitch!” Tormod snarled, his voice echoing against stone. “Ye shall pay for that.”

Panting, Makenna whipped around, pulling her lèine closed with her left hand, while she raised her knife with her right.

The warrior was right behind her, yet he halted at the sight of the blade glinting in the light of the cresset burning on the wall beside them. Blood coated his arm, for she’d cut through his leather wrist bracer, and feral rage glinted in his ice-blue eyes.

But Makenna was ready for him now. He wouldn’t catch her unawares again.

“Another step, and it won’t be yer arm I stab,” she said coldly. “But yer cods.”

“Do ye have anything to say in yer defense?”

Rae glared at the bloodied, defiant warrior who stood—flanked by Jack and one of the Guard—in his solar. In his opinion, there was nothing Tormod could say to defend what he’d done, but since he’d already heard Makenna’s version of the facts, he’d give this cur his ear as well.

Tormod’s lip curled. “I don’t know what that harpy told ye, but it’s all lies. She was willing.”

“Ye attacked her in a stairwell and tried to rip off her clothing,” Rae replied, biting out each word now. “It doesn’t sound like a willing woman to me.”

“Ye know what lasses can be like … all keen one moment and skittish the next,” Tormod replied, ignoring the gimlet stare Jack was giving him. “We were enjoying ourselves when she turned into a hellcat. She just—”

“I’ve heard enough,” Rae cut him off, out of patience now.

He’d seen Makenna a short while earlier, her face streaked with tears, clutching the shreds of her clothing to her breasts as she ran up the stairs inside the broch. He’d just exited his solar and had been the first person to find her. Just as well, for she’d been in a state.

Tormod’s expression shuttered, even if anger shadowed his gaze. He didn’t appreciate being interrupted.

Aye, the man was a problem. But now he’d be dealt with.

“Ye shall spend the night in the oubliette … and then I shall take the whip to yer back in the barmkin at first light tomorrow,” Rae informed the warrior coldly. “After that, ye will leave Dounarwyse on foot … without a horse, yer weapons, or any belongings.” He paused then, letting his words sink in. “And ye shallneverreturn here.”

A nerve ticked in Tormod’s cheek. “Ye should think twice before dishing out such punishment, Maclean,” he said softly. “I’m not a man lightly crossed.”

White-hot fire washed over Rae. The urge to draw the dirk at his hip and slice Tormod across the throat pulsed in his chest. With difficulty, he leashed the murderous impulse and growled, “Neither am I.”

The whip lashed across the warrior’s naked back, and Kylie flinched. An instant later, a bloody line appeared upon Tormod MacDougall’s pale skin.

Drawing back his arm, jaw set, the laird let the whip loose once more.

MacDougall grunted this time.

At Kylie’s side, Lyle made a sound in the back of his throat, and without thinking, Kylie reached out and put her hand on his shoulder. It was a bold move, and not one she felt overly comfortable making. Yet the lad surprised her by moving close and wrapping his arms around her legs.