Chapter 2 #2
“Buck-toothed?” The mere thought offended her. That was probably the only insult one of her brothers had never hurled at her. And why would they? Her teeth were as straight as anyone’s teeth could ever be.
Braden’s stern glare melted as he flashed one of those devil-may-care smiles her way. “I never said you were buck-toothed.”
“Aye, you did. I heard it as well,” the Englishman said.
“Nay,” Braden said between clenched teeth as his malevolent stare went to the Englishman in turn. “I said no such thing.”
Braden took a step toward her, and lifted her hand in his.
Maggie steeled herself as the contact sent chills along her arms. She could feel the rough calluses on his hand, the raw power of the man who was as much a fierce warrior as he was a woman’s downfall.
She watched, mesmerized, as he lifted her hand to his lips and placed a kiss just over her knuckles.
His lips were feather light against her flesh.
And as he moved those lips in a slow, searing circle around the back of her hand, he looked up at her with such bedroom eyes that for an instant she lost herself to the desire playing havoc with her senses.
At that moment, the terrible, treacherous part of her wanted to feel those lips against her own. She wanted to feel his strong arms wrap around her body and draw her close to his delectable heat.
Oh, heaven help her, she was as susceptible to him as all the other women were.
Braden ran his tongue over her flesh in a tender caress that both startled and titillated her before he gently nipped her skin with his teeth and moved her hand to rest just over his heart which beat strongly beneath her palm.
It was all she could do not to close her eyes and moan in pleasure as his thumb toyed with her palm, sending wave after wave of heat through her.
“They misheard me, my love.” He all but purred the words at her.
Her body literally melted as she stared into eyes that were warm and inviting. A rich brownish-green, Braden’s eyes could compel a woman to forget everything else in the world.
Get a hold of yourself, Maggie! The devil’ll take the rest of your loved ones if you yield to his charms.
Though it was one of the hardest things she’d ever done, she narrowed her gaze on him as she forced her wanton thoughts to the back of her mind.
She had to get control of the situation or all would be lost.
“Let me guess,” she said coldly, removing her hand from his grasp before she succumbed anymore to his masterful touch. “Did you perchance say I was sweet-toothed? Or pearl-toothed perhaps?” Maggie noted the stunned look he quickly hid. Aye, she was on to him for sure, and he knew it.
She took a moment to savor her victory.
But a moment was all she had, for in the next minute a scream rent the air.
“Maggie, come quick!”
She left the front gate open and rushed through the kirkyard toward the back gate where the scream had originated.
She reached the small courtyard in time to see one of the women, Bridget, being accosted by her bear of a husband.
The man fair dwarfed the petite blond who was doing her best to resist being pulled out the gate.
There were several women standing about, but none moved to help. Maggie couldn’t understand how they could just stand there and do nothing.
“I’ve had enough of this, woman,” Fergus said as he twisted his grip on Bridget’s arm.
“Nay, Fergus, I’ll not go home with you.” Bridget tried to loosen from his grip, but he held fast.
“I’ll be taking no more disobedience from you!” He backhanded her.
Bridget fell away, sobbing, but the grip on her arm kept her from hitting the ground. Fergus snatched at her, hauling her once more toward the gate.
Maggie shrieked in outrage. Without thought to her own safety, she launched herself at the oaf and knocked him away from Bridget.
Releasing Bridget, who instantly crumpled to the ground, Fergus stumbled back only a few steps. Maggie, on the other hand, repelled off his massive chest and fell backward, hitting the ground dazed as if she had just bounced off a wall.
She quickly pushed herself to her feet, and moved to face the man who stood a full head and shoulders above her. Her own shoulder throbbed and her heart pounded in fear. The man really was tall. Much, much taller than she. And about twice as wide.
Still, Maggie would never stand by and watch someone be hurt. Not if she stood even a tiny chance of helping. “You leave her be,” Maggie warned.
Fergus drew back to hit her.
Maggie tensed in expectation of the blow, but before his hand could make contact with her face, his arm was grabbed, and he was spun about.
Braden held Fergus by the front of his saffron shirt, and the fury on Braden’s face would have quelled an ogre’s wrath. “If you want to take issue with the women, Fergus, you’ll have to come through me to do it. I’ll not have you abuse a woman in such a fashion so long as I breathe.”
Fergus curled his lip as he shoved Braden away from him. “Bridget be my wife. I’ll do with her as I please.” He made a move for Bridget who was now on the ground crying uncontrollably while Pegeen and two others held onto her.
Braden and the Englishman stepped between the two of them. Their spines rigid, it was obvious they were ready to fight Fergus if he made another move toward his wife.
“You should take better care of your wife,” Braden said. “If you treated her more kindly, she probably wouldn’t have locked herself up with the others.”
Fergus snorted in derision. “What would you know of it?”
Braden’s gaze hardened and sent a chill of foreboding up Maggie’s spine. “I know enough to take a stick to your arse if you don’t heed my words. Now get yourself home before I yield to that temptation.”
Fergus’s nostrils flared. He glared heatedly into Braden’s cold, deadly gaze.
For a moment Maggie feared he would push Braden into the fight, but he must have come to his senses for he looked from Braden to the other three men.
Fergus’ shoulders slumped and he sighed. “Very well, I’ll return home, but she’d best be getting herself there afore much longer.” Fergus took a step away.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Braden asked.
Fergus turned around with a frown. “Forgetting what?”
“You owe your wife an apology,” the Englishman said before Braden could answer.
His jaw tense, Fergus glared at the men, but as his gaze swept over Ewan, Braden, Lochlan and the Englishman, he realized he’d have to fight them all unless he complied. Straightening his shirt with a tug, he looked to Bridget.
Maggie saw the indecision in his eyes until Bridget looked up at him, her pale face marred by an ugly red handprint.
The anger fled Fergus’s face as he knelt by Bridget’s side. “I am sorry, Bride. I dinna mean to harm you. But you shouldn’t have pressed me so.”
Braden bellowed in rage. “Leave her, Fergus. Now!”
Maggie swallowed in fear of the tone. She sensed Braden was only one finger away from seriously hurting Fergus. Not that she would have minded if he had. Men like Fergus deserved to be beaten. She had always hated such bullies.
In fact, all four men looked as if they were an inch away from harming him. But it was Ewan who stepped forward and quickly removed Fergus from the yard.
Maggie waited until the gate was firmly shut behind Fergus, and Ewan was headed back toward them before she turned to face Braden.
“Thank you,” she said, her voice carrying the full depth of her gratitude.
Braden nodded, then went with Lochlan to check on Bridget. Braden knelt by Bridget’s side and gently touched her swollen, red cheek. His eyes hardening, he looked up at Maggie. “How many such attacks have there been since you started this?”
“Five,” Lochlan answered for her.
Maggie’s throat tightened at the memory of how many women had been hurt. “Aye. The beatings are what prompted us to seek shelter with Father Bede. We had hoped being on holy ground would make the men think twice before assaulting any of us again.”
The Englishman scoffed at her words. “As if that ever stood in the way of animals.”
Braden ignored the Englishman’s words as he raked a cold glare over Maggie. “Did you ever stop to consider the foolishness of your actions?” Braden asked, his voice filled with rage. “How many more women are going to suffer because of your stubbornness?”
Maggie’s own anger ignited at his accusatory words. She wasn’t some child in need of a reprimand. She knew the consequences of her actions. They all did.
Every single woman who was now gathered around them understood.
They were mere women, subject to the whims of men, but even so they had all agreed that this was a necessary measure to ensure the well-being of all.
Maggie stiffened her spine as she confronted the four men.
“Not nearly as many as the men who will die if the feud continues. Better we be beaten than our sons, brothers, husbands, and fathers die. Think you that doesn’t hurt much more than any blow?
I’d rather be beaten all day long than bury one more member of my family. ”
“Aye,” the women around her concurred.
Agnes stepped forward from the crowd to confront Braden and Lochlan.
“My bruises healed in only four days.” She brushed her hand down her smooth cheek.
“But my heart still aches for my youngest boy who died three years back under a MacDouglas sword. There will always be a hole there, aching for him.”
Lochlan eyed them all. “You’re not changing anything.”
“Aren’t we?” Maggie asked. “You men can’t be killing and raiding the MacDouglas while you’re coming here to negotiate with us. Nor can you wage war on empty stomachs.”
Again the women agreed with her.
Braden opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, Maggie heard another loud shout, only this one was a cry of joy.
“Braden, my wee bairn! You’re home.”
The group parted as Braden’s mother, Aisleen, rushed toward them.
Maggie noticed the look of hatred on the Englishman’s face as he saw the tiny brunette for the first time.