Page 110 of The Scottish Duke's Deal

It all went fuzzy.

The world twisted, swerved, spun on its axis. She blinked, breath catching in her throat. Her wrist throbbed. Her legs felt boneless. And suddenly—hands. Arms. A figure moving in front of her. She thought for a dizzy second it was another attacker until the coat caught her eye.

Ramsay.

She knew before she could even say his name. Her body recognized him. The shape of him. The way he moved. Like wind through trees, all unspoken power and force made flesh.

He’d come back. She barely understood it, but he was here.

“Don’t ever touch my wife.”

Callum lunged up with a snarl, but Ramsay was already moving—grabbing his coat, slamming him back down into the dirt. Fists flew. Grunts. The sickening thud of impact. Ramsay fought like a man who had already seen hell and survived it, clean and brutal.

Eleanor staggered back, watching—unable to look away.

She should have been frightened. Shewasfrightened, but?—

God help her. He looked beautiful.

Her mouth went dry as Ramsay’s coat flared with each movement as his muscles pulled taut under his sleeves, as his body curved and slammed with a violence she had never seen in him—never even imagined. Not like this.

He wasn’t fighting for show. He was fighting to save her.

Something inside her clenched. Not fear. Something hotter. He was all heat and danger and that voice in her head whispered mine when she should have been running.

Callum landed a blow to Ramsay’s jaw. “You will pay for my brother!”

Ramsay barely flinched. He took it, twisted, and drove his fist into Callum’s stomach with enough force to fold him in half.

Eleanor gasped.

Blood bloomed at the edge of Callum’s lip. He spit it to the ground and laughed. Ramsay grabbed the front of his coat and slammed him again, harder this time. The ground shook. Eleanor’s legs nearly gave out.

How could he do this?

This man who had once looked at her like she was something soft. Something worth touching with reverence. Now he was pure fury, carved in shadow. It hit her all at once—how real thatold fear had been. Ramsayhadkilled before. Hecoulddo it again. To protect her.

And she had never wanted him more.

But this needs to stop.

She took a step forward.

Callum reached for a rock—something jagged—and Ramsay caught it just before it struck. His hand closed around Callum’s wrist, twisting it.

Callum screamed.

Eleanor flinched.

“Stop,” she said, her voice hoarse. “Ramsay—stop.”

He didn’t.

His grip stayed tight. He looked like he didn’t even hear her. Like the blood roaring in his ears was louder than everything else.

“Ramsay,” she said again, firmer now.

His head jerked. His eyes snapped to hers, and something in him broke. He looked at her like he’d only just remembered she wasthere. Slowly, his grip loosened. Callum groaned on the ground, curling onto his side like a wounded animal.