Traitor Or Temptress

With blood welling through his beard from a cut on his cheek, slowly he raised his head and looked down at her, his face just an inch from her own, his breath hot on her face. Their eyes became locked in a mesmerising web, and the fire that swept through Iain at having her womanly body pinned beneath his almost deafened him to any resistance. Immediately he recollected himself. Angry frustration ran rampant through every fibre of his being, as his argument was about to burst forth in a torrent.

Taking note of the taut set of his jaw and the undiluted fury blazing in his eyes, tendrils of fear coiled in the pit of Lorne’s stomach and her pulse accelerated wildly. Never had she encountered such cold, purposeful rage in her life—not even from her father and brothers.

Levering his body off hers, Iain got to his feet. ‘Get up,’ he snapped. Without waiting for her to obey he reached down and grasped her arm, jerking her roughly to her feet. Lorne winced when a pain shot up her forearm into her elbow, realising she must have hurt it in the fall, but Iain was so furious he was blind to her discomfort. Again he grabbed her injured arm in a powerful grip. She gasped in protest at feeling another shooting pain, but he was dragging her in his wake towards his horse, which had made a more dignified descent than its master. Placing his free hand on the saddle, Iain loomed over his captive, his gaze a cold blast, his expression intense.

‘How far did you think you’d get alone and defenceless, you little idiot? Is it that you are hell bent on self-destruction, or merely out to thwart me?’

Without waiting for her to reply, he placed his hands on her waist and lifted her effortlessly on to his horse, before hoisting himself up behind her and wrapping his iron-thewed arms tightly round her waist in a grip that was meant to hurt and retaliate.

‘I will give you a warning, Lorne McBryde—just one,’ he said in a low, savage voice close to her ear. ‘If you ever try anything like that again or do one more thing to exasperate or anger me, I will personally see to it that you await your father’s arrival at Norwood in my deepest, darkest dungeon. Do you understand?’

Lorne swallowed convulsively and nodded. ‘Yes,’ she whispered, glad when his arms relaxed their iron hold.

‘I have your word?’

‘Yes.’

‘Say it.’

‘You have my word.’

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