Chapter 14 #2
In the village, he tethered his horse and strode into the largest shop, where anyone might be expected to stop in. He asked if his wife had done so, and received only blank stares. Yes, of course. Barely anyone here knew he was married yet. He described her: blonde, Edinburgh accent, purple dress.
“Oh! The lass in the purple gown, sir?” the redheaded proprietress said. “Why yes, she was in here not half an hour ago—well spoken, she was.”
“Did she say where she was going?” Struan asked.
“No, but there aren’t many places to go, are there? Walk down the street toward St Magnus and you’ll surely see her or someone who’s just seen her.”
Struan proceeded down the main street. He noticed several figures strolling along both sides of the track, but the moment he spied a purple-clad woman further down on the opposite side of the street, he quickened his pace to meet her.
Ellie hadn’t noticed him yet. She was over a dozen yards away, and she was walking oddly. Her arms were crossed over her chest and her hands gripped her upper arms, as if she were cold. Her head was tilted downward, so he couldn’t see her face. Why the hell was she walking like that?
Then he realized that she wasn’t alone. A man was striding alongside her, talking earnestly. She was not responding in kind, and in fact looked rather…
Hunted.
Then the man reached out and put his hand on Elspeth’s shoulder.
She jerked away.
Struan’s vision narrowed to a tunnel. He crossed the street in a blink, grabbed the man by the collar, and pushed him against the wooden wall of the nearest building.
“Get your hands off my wife.”
“What? This lass?” The man struggled, but Struan was not merely big, he was furious.
People within sight were now turning to them, most of them coming closer.
“This lass is my wife. And you scared her.”
“I was only chatting! No crime in talking to a lass. No harm done.”
“There was no harm,” Elspeth echoed faintly.
“He touched you.”
“I must not have been clear enough that I was not interested in…chatting.” Her cheeks went pink as she noticed the other people within earshot.
“I expect you were clear enough.” Struan turned back to the man. He pitched his voice lower, so it couldn’t be overheard by the growing audience.
“What’s your name?”
“Robbie Davies,” he declared, as if his local fame made introduction unnecessary. “Who’re you?”
“I am Struan MacInnes.” He waited a moment for that to sink in, then said slowly, deliberately, “If you ever speak to my wife again, I will kill you. If you speak of her, I will kill you. If you look at her, I’ll kill you. Am I clear enough?”
All the belligerence had drained from the other man. “I didn’t know she was your wife, sir! I thought she was joking. Look how she’s dressed! She said she just moved into the big house. I thought she meant she was a new maid or undercook or something.”
“Whether she looks like it or not, she is the lady. And even if she were an undercook, dressed in rags, that’s no invitation to you.”
Elspeth looked like she was about to be sick. “May we go now?” she asked in a low voice.
“Aye. We’re going.” Struan started walking and didn’t look back. If he stopped or turned around, he was liable to go after that man again, and this time do permanent damage.
Elspeth hurried along next to him, her hand curling around his right arm, trying to slow his progress. “Struan,” she whispered urgently. “Why did you do that? Everyone’s going to be talking about it now.”
“Good,” he grunted out. “Then I won’t have to do it again.”
“We’ll be lucky if anyone speaks to us now. Though if there are more in the village like him…”
He turned. “Are you all right?”
She nodded quickly. “He was just overly familiar. But it was only words, Struan.”
“Words matter. He shouldn’t have said that about you. He shouldn’t have thought it. And he did touch you.”
“My arm. I’m fine. And you’re fine. And that man is still alive, which I imagine is a rather near thing. I’ve never seen you act like that before.”
“You don’t know me very well, do you?” he snapped.
“I suppose not.”
Ellie’s muted voice cut through his rage.
He stopped and faced her. “Ellie, I just don’t want anything bad to happen to you. Ever.”
They were standing next to a little side passage by the bakery, to judge by the smell.
Elspeth raised her hand to touch his face, just above the scar along his lower cheek. “Struan, I’m fine. Truly. Please don’t be angry.”
He was angry anyway. Not at her. But angry all the same. His wife. His wife. His wife.
He’d got possessive quickly, hadn’t he?
They didn’t linger in the village. While Struan had ridden in alone, he didn’t think twice about lifting up Elspeth and riding back with her.
Though now he did have to deal with the fact that she was all but curled up on his lap.
Every minute along the track brought a bump or a shift that sent her body sliding into his, and sweet Christ, those curves pressing into him were a torment.
To have Ellie’s soft body nestled on him was distracting as hell, and he prayed she didn’t realize just how aroused he was growing.
But this was also the closest they’d ever been, and he wasn’t sure he wanted it to end.