“Lachlan!” Bridgette screamed.
He swung around and stilled at the sight of Hugh MacKinnon holding Bridgette, who was fighting like a rabid dog, in front of him like a human shield. Hugh’s show of cowardice surprised Lachlan, but Bridgette’s fiery resistance did not. The appearance of the scruffy girl he remembered from the last visit he and his brothers had made to the MacLean hold two winters ago may have been gone and replaced by a beautiful young woman, but inwardly Bridgette still appeared to be unlike any other. She had a will to match any man’s and an almost palpable dislike for her role as a woman. Lachlan searched Bridgette’s face to see if she was frightened and was pleased when rage-filled eyes met his.
“Ye’re a coward to use a lass as a shield, Hugh,” Lachlan said to draw the man’s attention as much as to give himself time to decide how to strike.
“I’m wise, nae a coward,” the man snarled.
“Dispense with yer talking, will ye?” Bridgette demanded, her blazing green gaze piercing Lachlan. With that command, she suddenly drove her foot backward and up into Hugh’s groin, causing him to howl in pain and release her.
Lachlan admired the expertly placed maneuver for one brief moment before he darted to Hugh’s side and sent his sword down into the burly man’s foot, gave it a twist, and then jerked it out. Hugh drew his own sword upward, and when he did, Lachlan rammed the hilt of his dagger into the man’s nose. A crack resounded in the air, and Hugh let out a howl as he doubled over in pain, dropping his sword. Lachlan quickly knocked him over the head with the hilt of his sword and watched with pleasure as Hugh crumpled to the ground in a forced sleep.
Bridgette stepped to Lachlan’s side, staring at Hugh for a long spell. Clucking her tongue, she bent down, picked up the man’s sword with some effort, and dragged it away from him. When she turned back to Lachlan, he was surprised at the accusatory, angry look she gave him. “Ye should have let me gut him. ’Twas my right. But I kinnae gut a defenseless man.”
“Is it nae traditional to thank a man who saves yer life?” Lachlan asked, half-amused at her anger and half-curious at her reaction.
A scowl swept across her face. “Och!” She pressed her lips together. “I escaped him myself, if ye did nae notice,” she snapped.
With a shake of his head, Lachlan kneeled down, took out his rope, and secured Hugh’s hands and feet before he stood once more. “What I noticed is that he had ye in his clutches until I appeared.”
She narrowed her eyes. “I’d already escaped him once, but when ye charged into the woods screaming like a loon, ye distracted me and he got his filthy hands on me once again.”
“I saved ye,” he insisted, though he felt sure she could have saved herself as she claimed. But the lovely, mutinous look her face took on when she argued did make it rather entertaining to keep goading her.
She snorted. “Ye men are all so cocky. I saved myself,” she repeated.
“If that’s what ye wish to believe,” he teased.
Bridgette blew out an irritated breath. “What shall we do with him?” She nodded toward Hugh.
Lachlan thought for a moment, glancing toward the woods that led to the castle. “I’m nae going to carry him on my horse back to yer brother. Alex can come for him.” When she didn’t respond, he turned to her.
She was bent over collecting her bow and arrows, but when she stood, she did not look at him. She sheathed her weapon and kept her face turned away, but he could see her pulse beating rapidly against the alabaster skin of her delicate neck. “I suppose I dunnae need to ask if ye’re fine,” he said, even as an uneasy feeling that he’d not reached her soon enough rose in him.
“Nay, ye dunnae need to fash yerself about me,” she replied, still not looking at him.
Lachlan frowned. Her voice had a tremor in it that had not been there moments before. “Bridgette?”
“Away with ye,” she demanded, wrapping her arms around her waist. “I’ll walk back to the castle alone.”
His gut clenched. Had he been too late? Had she been defiled? Fresh rage enveloped him. “Bridgette, did Hugh take ye?” he asked, bending down to retrieve his dagger, which he may well need to use to gut the man.
She wrenched her gaze to his. The tears that swam in her green eyes made his chest tighten. He was never without easy banter for a lass, especially a beautiful one like the woman Bridgette undeniably now was, even if she was only but fifteen, yet he found himself unable to think of the proper words for innocence lost.
He struggled for a moment, then blurted, “I’ll cut his heart out for ye.”
Bridgette MacLean, who he’d known since she had toddled around in a nappy but had never seen cry, burst into tears.
Lachlan shook off his disbelief, quickly drew her to his side, and slid his arm around her shaking shoulders. While she wept, he led her to a rock some distance away from Hugh, gently guided her down, and then sat beside her. He held her and ran a soothing hand through her hair. “I’m sorry I did nae hear ye sooner, lass. Dunnae cry. All will be well. Nae a soul need ken yer innocence has been stolen.”
She pulled back from him and gave him a look of amazement. “Lachlan MacLeod,” she mumbled through fresh sobs, “that’s the most foolish thing I’ve ever heard ye say, and I’ve heard ye say many a clot-heid things.” She sniffed loudly and swiped at the tears coursing down her cheeks. “Any man with sense would ken if his new wife’s innocence was gone. I ken enough about relations between men and women to kenthat.”
Lachlan felt his neck turn hot and his lips pinch together into a frown. “And just how do ye ken about relations between men and women when ye’re nae married?” he demanded, knowing her brother would not be pleased if she had given away her charms willingly. Lachlan tugged a hand through his hair. She was not even his sister and he wasn’t pleased to hear this news. But he had known her all her life, and he had thought her the sort of lass who would only give her body to her husband.
“Are ye married?” she growled, standing and marching away.
“Ye ken I’m nae,” he retorted, hurrying to follow her.
“Aye, I do. Yet I’d hazard my life that ye ken about relations between men and women.” She gave him a contemptuous look. “How canthatbe, Lachlan MacLeod?”
