Alastair swiped the back of his hand across his nose, smearing a trail of blood, and grinned at Reikart. She would never understand men. “’Tis good to see ye have yer mother’s spirit in ye.” He clapped Reikart on the shoulder. “Ye should fit into the family nicely, but if ye hit me again, especially over a treacherous lass, I’ll hit back. And I hit hard.”
“I’ll remember that,Uncle.” Reikart did not sound the least bit concerned with the threat that had been directed at him. And no wonder, she thought, wiggling against him to try to break his hold. The man had been forged of iron.
“Do ye mind?” she said, when it became clear her efforts were in vain.
A shadow of annoyance crossed his face as his gaze met hers. “I do mind,” he said, his tone matter-of-fact. “I’ll let you go when I’m sure you’re safe.”
She didn’t know whether to be incensed or grateful. On the one hand, hewasprotecting her. On the other, he was ignoring her wishes. But faced with so much hostility from the men around her, she decided she should be grateful. She pressed her lips together, but the spark of satisfaction she saw in his eyes irritated her. She was not as biddable as he might think.
But there was no time to dwell on it because Alastair said, “I’m nae a threat to the lass.”
“You pushed her,” Reikart shot back.
“I gave her a gentle nudge,” Alastair said and glared at her.
That was it. She may have earned her sister’s ire, but she had done nothing to this man, whether he knew it or not. “Hepushedme,” she announced, hoping that Reikart would punch Alastair in the nose once more and perhaps rid the man of his brutish ways.
“The lady’s spoken,” Reikart said.
She glanced at him in amazement. He had taken her at her word, even when he thought she’d done something to his mother. The gaze he directed at his uncle made the hairs on the back of her neck rise.
“If you touch her again,” he said, “you’ll find out just how hard you need to punch to stop me from pulverizing you.”
“Pulver what?” Alastair snapped, his face turning red.
“He means he’ll beat your face in,” Rhys piped up, stepping between the two men. He looked from Reikart to Deirdre, a puzzled expression flitting across his handsome features, and then he focused on Alastair. “I wouldn’t touch her, if I were you. Reik has a short fuse—he’s quick to anger when a woman’s safety is involved—and he’s impossible to take down in hand-to-hand combat. I trained him myself.”
Deirdre rolled her eyes and yanked her arm out of Reikart’s hold. When he reached for her, she held up her palm and was relieved—and pleased—when he dropped his arm to his side. “There is far too much male boasting going on here.”
“I agree,” Rhys said, though he was the last one who had been bragging. “You two need to quit alpha-dog jockeying. Come with me,” he said to Deirdre, and since she wanted him to take her to her sister, she did step to his side.
“What is alpha-dog jockeying?” she asked.
“Two men fighting to see who’s in charge,” Rhys said, motioning to her to follow him. She sidestepped Reikart, who was scowling at his brother, and fell into place beside Rhys. He strode quickly through the passage, and as he drew close to the great hall, she noted that her clansmen stood in a line that streamed out of the room, no doubt waiting to pledge their fealty to Maggie’s husband.
Curious glances followed her as she passed the long line and proceeded into the great hall and to the dais, which was several feet away from the start of the line.
Dermot stood by the dais looking irritated. “What took ye so long?”
“Alastair and Reikart are off to a rocky start,” Rhys replied.
“What’s a rocky start?” Dermot asked.
“In this instance, it’s when two stubborn men both want to be in charge,” Rhys replied.
As fascinating and confusing as this was, Deirdre was more concerned with finding her sister. She glanced around the crowded room, and when she did not see Maggie, she looked between Dermot and Rhys. “Please. I need to speak with my sister.”
“Sit,” Rhys said, pointing to a bench.
“I’m nae a hound for ye to command,” she replied, thrusting up her chin in refusal.
“If you don’t sit quietly, I won’t get Maggie. I may even forget you’re here.”
She couldn’t tell if the man was bluffing or not. “Algien,” she began, but when Rhys frowned, she said, “Baron Bellecote…is he captured?”
“Escaped,” Rhys replied.
“Do ye know if a man named Nigel escaped, as well?”
