His Bonnie Bride by Hannah Howell (best mobile ebook reader .TXT) 📗

was showing. She knew a surge of white-hot rage when he released her and grinned at her. It blinded her to the fact that he was clearly moved by the kiss.

The blaze in her amber eyes fascinated Tavis almost as much as the kiss had pleasured him. He did not think he had ever seen a woman look so gloriously angry. It disappointed him somewhat when, in a typical outraged-maiden tactic, she moved to slap his face. He easily caught her wrist, but then suddenly felt a surprisingly strong little fist connect with his jaw, catching him unawares and sending him off the bench to sprawl on the floor. Tavis was caught up in a mixture of anger and amusement. The snickers he could hear his family and the men indulging in mattered little to him. He was too interested in Storm.

"I forgot what a wee scrapper ye are, but now ye ken why ye'll stay here," he said, watching as she left her seat to stand and glare at him, her lovely hands planted firmly on her slim hips.

"Oh, I understand. Slow to grasp your intentions I may have been, but 'tis clear as a bell now. Ye are no better than that slimy toad Sir Hugh."

"An I was, lass, ye'd be well used by now," he snarled as he stood up to tower over her, his temper having gained the upper hand when she compared him to the Englishman.

"Used mayhaps," she sneered, "but 'tis a question as to whether it be well or nay."

Colin briefly thought of putting a halt to the swiftly worsening argument, but only briefly. The couple had squared off before and he found it far too entertaining to end. If the subject was not exactly genteel, it was of little consequence, for all there knew what Tavis had planned for the girl. It was simply a question of when he would take it and how hard he would have to work for it. Tavis never having suffered a problem with the women, it was of interest to them all to see him meet resistance.

Grasping her by the wrists, Tavis growled, "Weel, mayhaps we should go and see how weel I use ye."

Storm could not hit him as she wanted to, but she was not totally disarmed. She gave him a kick in the shins and he yelped gratifyingly. It was hardly the way to ingratiate herself to the man who held her fate in his hands, but she was too furious to think on that. Since the day she had become a woman she had suffered from men's unwanted advances, her status as only daughter to a powerful border lord not serving as all that much protection. Long ago she had given up trying to politely repel such advances.

"Spare me, please. I have just dined." She fruitlessly tried to free her wrists from his grip.

Although Tavis had never been repulsed by any woman he had set his eyes upon, it was not solely her reluctance that stirred his anger. He felt he could understand her reluctance. After all, she was gently born, a woman whose virginity was guarded as well as any castle and was considered as great a prize. Any man who wed her would expect her innocence to be intact, and to lose that could mean that her future was irrevocably altered for the worse. His anger stemmed from the fact that he ached for her as he had for no other woman, yet she seemed not to suffer at all from the same malady.

"Then I'll remember to catch ye atween meals," he purred.

She recognized the soft tone that was indicative of his rage but ignored it. "Ye'll catch me not at all, MacLagan, or ye best watch out for your life," she hissed. "I will kill the man who dishonors me."

"And how will ye do that?" he scoffed. "Ye havenae any weapons, lass."

Her voice was a soft, chilling purr as she said, "An I must, I will tear out your throat with my teeth."

So startled was Tavis that he lost his grip, and she broke free to head toward the door, her slim back stiff with anger, Phelan at her heels. Angus quickly moved to take up his post as guard and escort. Tavis strode over to her, catching her by the arm before she went out of the hall. Neither cared nor really noticed that everyone was very quiet in the hope of hearing every word spoken.

"Aye, retreat to your chambers, lass, but ye'll nay escape me. Those at Hagaleah seem loathe to pay a tithe for ye, so we'll settle the cost o' your release another way, a way to please me."

Indicating that she must act the whore to gain her freedom was not the way to dampen the anger that seethed through her, and Storm wondered how he failed to see that. "Pleasure is the last thing ye will gain ere ye touch me, MacLagan. And I cannot stop ye, I'll be as cold as the coin Hagaleah denies ye. So come if ye will and have your lust taste ice. I'll nay give ye e'en the pleasure of a poxy tuppence whore."

" 'Tis a challenge ye offer me, lass, and 'twill ne'er be long before I pick up the gauntlet."

" 'Tis nay a challenge for a man of your strength to subdue a lass. 'Tis merely rape, sir, a common enough amusement practiced by many a man. None of ye can heed a nay as I have learned well."

What Travis was prepared to reply to that was lost, for their argument was abruptly interrupted. A buxom young woman several inches taller than Storm with midnight-black hair, creamy skin and hazel eyes burst into the hall and flung herself at Tavis. The ensuing embrace did little to calm Storm, but she refused to examine why the sight of the two kissing should cause her insides to knot up, telling herself that the proof that her dishonoring would merely