“Ahhh, by the saints.” Pain and confusion brought him to his knees. He recovered his wits enough to keep hold of her braid, yanking her to the ground with him. When she reached back with one hand to free her hair, he grabbed her arm and bent it up behind her back, gratified when he heard the sharp intake of her breath.
Had he thought her delicate? Nay, he’d misjudged her. She was a wildcat. A cornered wildcat. He tried to raise his hand out of her reach. “Foolish woman, a broken finger is naught to me.”
“Fine, I’ll break it then.” Keeping her tenacious hold, she increased the pressure. “If you mean me no harm, then let me go.”
“Nay.”
“Let. Go.”
“You first.” The rise and fall of her breasts against his chest stirred his blood to a boil. His gaze roamed over her face, settling on the fullness of her lips pursed into a determined pucker. An idea formed in his mind. Raising his eyes to hers, he grinned.
Her eyes widened, then narrowed. “Oh no.”
He covered her lips with his. She gasped, and he took advantage, deepening the kiss and drawing her closer. She sucked his lower lip into her mouth, and desire surged through his body in a rush so strong, ’twould have brought him to his knees had he not already been on them.
Then she bit him. Damnation!
Never had he been in a more absurd predicament. How the devil had one tiny female managed to best him? Judging by the pain, she had no intention of letting go. So be it. Neither would he. Malcolm bent her arm up behind her a bit more in retaliation for the insult to his pride. She yelped through her clenched teeth, and a twinge of guilt forced him to loosen his hold.
Stalemate.
By God, ’twas a good thing none of his men were here to witness this indignity. She was like no other lady he’d ever met, and he could scarce believe her audacity. What would the earl think if he saw his only heir in such a ridiculous fix?
A rumble began deep in his chest, erupting in loud, raucous laughter that shocked the tiny warrior. He fell backward, taking her with him until he lay flat on his back with her on top. Miracle of miracles, she let go of his lip and his finger as she tried to wriggle away. He encircled her waist with his arms and trapped her legs between his. Placing her palms on the ground, she raised herself up and stared down at him as though he’d completely lost his wits.
No doubt he had.
It would not take this braw lass long to attempt escape again. He rolled them over and straddled her. Malcolm took a leather thong out of his sporran and bound her wrists. “You have naught to fear,” he told her in a soothing tone. “Though I doubt you lend any credence to my words, I mean only to offer you aid.”
“Right.” She lifted her tied wrists, her eyes flashing. “How is this supposed to aid me?”
“Ah, lass,” he said, hefting her off the ground, “in less than a day, you’ve rendered me senseless, brought me to my knees and drawn blood.” He winked at her. “The binding is to aid me.”
She huffed, and then her expressions shifted. “I did do all that, didn’t I? My uncles and cousins would be proud.”
She surprised him at every turn, and her bemused expression had him laughing out loud again. “If you’re any indication, they must be a bloodthirsty lot.”
“They are.” She glared as if challenging him to disagree.
He held her with one arm while retrieving his mount. Still chuckling, he placed her astride his horse, careful to keep the reins out of her reach. Malcolm gathered her things, secured the smaller case behind his saddle and dumped the larger sack on her lap. Even with her hands bound ’twould be best to keep them occupied. He swung up behind her and turned his mount toward the road.
“Where are you taking me?”
“To a place of safety.”
“Where are we now?”
“We’re on MacKintosh land.”
“MacKintosh. Is that Irish or Scottish?”
Malcolm frowned at her odd questions. Mayhap she’d been set upon by brigands and had suffered a blow to the head. “You’re in Scotland. Wheesht now, lest any more trouble lurking about the forest should find me.”
She gasped and placed her bound hands on her pack in a possessive gesture. There was no mistaking the signs she was exhausted, near tears and trying hard not to show it. He always traveled light out of deference for the horses, and with the earl of Douglas’s missive to deliver, the need for haste was great.
How had she happened to be alone on that particular stretch of road at the very moment he traveled by? Who was she? What would his family and clan make of her? Each question raised another until his head throbbed.
Tomorrow was soon enough to demand answers, and his father would insist on questioning her himself. For now, he would leave her be.