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Authors: Hannah Howell
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Terror washed over her, threatening to drag her into darkness, but she refused to faint and make it all so much easier for them.
“Bitch,” Donald growled as he wiped at the blood pouring from his nose with his filthy sleeve. “Ye will pay for that.”
Red Rob glared at her after he looked at the deep scratches on his arm. “I will make ye verra sorry for this, too.”
So many angry words crowded into her mouth she nearly choked on them. They were angry because she fought against their plan to abuse her? Una was just thinking that the world would be a much better place if such vermin were eradicated when Donald was suddenly lifted from her and tossed up against a tree.
“Move, love.”
Raibeart’s voice was so rough, so like the growl of an enraged animal, that Una barely understood him. She could see a whitefaced Red Rob trying to get to his feet so frantically that he kept stumbling and getting nowhere. It did not surprise her that the vicious little man looked terrified. Raibeart was a huge, strong, fanged predator. Even as she scrambled to get out of the way of what she suspected would be a very short battle, she now realized why Raibeart spoke of the beast inside of him. He was looking very feral and very dangerous.
She moved. Knowing her legs would be unsteady because of the terror that was only just leaving her, she scrambled backward, using her hands and feet until she came up against a tree. Una tore off her gag and watched as Raibeart stalked toward a trembling Red Rob. These men may have hunted ones like her, caught them, killed them, or imprisoned them, but they had obviously never met one of the clan she and the other had descended from.
Then, whether from sheer instinct to survive or from sudden surge of courage, Red Rob leapt to his feet and pulled his sword. Una nearly cried out a warning but knew it could distract Raibeart and clapped a hand over her mouth. A moment later she knew she did not need to fear for him. He exchanged a few sword thrusts with Red Rob before easily knocking the sword from the man’s hand.
“What are ye?” squeaked Red Rob.
“Your death.”
Una winced when Raibeart grabbed Red Rob, slammed him against a tree, and then sank his fangs into the man’s neck. She wanted to look away but could not. This was what she was, the blood thinned through marriage, but still MacNachton. Red Rob was still alive when Raibeart raised his head, idly wiped his mouth on his sleeve, and then snapped the man’s neck.
She looked at Donald at the same time Raibeart did. Donald was on his feet, his sword in his hand, but the look on his face told her that he knew he was about to die. Una did not flinch when Raibeart treated him the same way he had Red Rob. When Raibeart started to walk toward her, the feral look on his face slowly changing to one of uncertainty, she struggled to her feet. The way he had killed the men had been shocking, but she was not disgusted or afraid. Those men had killed a lot of her kind, had hunted them like animals, and had intended to rape her. She would have killed them herself if she had possessed Raibeart’s strength.
Raibeart cautiously reached to touch her cheek. When she did not flinch from his touch, he was almost weakened by the strength of the relief that swept through him. It was not until he had looked at the two dead men that his fury had eased enough for him to realize what he had done in front of her. He had let her see the beast that lived inside every MacNachton Pureblood, but she showed no fear of it. Unable to help himself, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her. He smiled with pleasure when, as he released her, she stumbled a little and it took a moment for the clouds of passion to clear from her eyes.
“Can ye ride?” he asked when she started to brush off her skirts and revealed no sign of any serious injury.
“I have been riding with ye for several days,” she said, a little confused by his question.
“Nay, can ye ride on your
“Bitch,” Donald growled as he wiped at the blood pouring from his nose with his filthy sleeve. “Ye will pay for that.”
Red Rob glared at her after he looked at the deep scratches on his arm. “I will make ye verra sorry for this, too.”
So many angry words crowded into her mouth she nearly choked on them. They were angry because she fought against their plan to abuse her? Una was just thinking that the world would be a much better place if such vermin were eradicated when Donald was suddenly lifted from her and tossed up against a tree.
“Move, love.”
Raibeart’s voice was so rough, so like the growl of an enraged animal, that Una barely understood him. She could see a whitefaced Red Rob trying to get to his feet so frantically that he kept stumbling and getting nowhere. It did not surprise her that the vicious little man looked terrified. Raibeart was a huge, strong, fanged predator. Even as she scrambled to get out of the way of what she suspected would be a very short battle, she now realized why Raibeart spoke of the beast inside of him. He was looking very feral and very dangerous.
She moved. Knowing her legs would be unsteady because of the terror that was only just leaving her, she scrambled backward, using her hands and feet until she came up against a tree. Una tore off her gag and watched as Raibeart stalked toward a trembling Red Rob. These men may have hunted ones like her, caught them, killed them, or imprisoned them, but they had obviously never met one of the clan she and the other had descended from.
Then, whether from sheer instinct to survive or from sudden surge of courage, Red Rob leapt to his feet and pulled his sword. Una nearly cried out a warning but knew it could distract Raibeart and clapped a hand over her mouth. A moment later she knew she did not need to fear for him. He exchanged a few sword thrusts with Red Rob before easily knocking the sword from the man’s hand.
“What are ye?” squeaked Red Rob.
“Your death.”
Una winced when Raibeart grabbed Red Rob, slammed him against a tree, and then sank his fangs into the man’s neck. She wanted to look away but could not. This was what she was, the blood thinned through marriage, but still MacNachton. Red Rob was still alive when Raibeart raised his head, idly wiped his mouth on his sleeve, and then snapped the man’s neck.
She looked at Donald at the same time Raibeart did. Donald was on his feet, his sword in his hand, but the look on his face told her that he knew he was about to die. Una did not flinch when Raibeart treated him the same way he had Red Rob. When Raibeart started to walk toward her, the feral look on his face slowly changing to one of uncertainty, she struggled to her feet. The way he had killed the men had been shocking, but she was not disgusted or afraid. Those men had killed a lot of her kind, had hunted them like animals, and had intended to rape her. She would have killed them herself if she had possessed Raibeart’s strength.
Raibeart cautiously reached to touch her cheek. When she did not flinch from his touch, he was almost weakened by the strength of the relief that swept through him. It was not until he had looked at the two dead men that his fury had eased enough for him to realize what he had done in front of her. He had let her see the beast that lived inside every MacNachton Pureblood, but she showed no fear of it. Unable to help himself, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her. He smiled with pleasure when, as he released her, she stumbled a little and it took a moment for the clouds of passion to clear from her eyes.
“Can ye ride?” he asked when she started to brush off her skirts and revealed no sign of any serious injury.
“I have been riding with ye for several days,” she said, a little confused by his question.
“Nay, can ye ride on your
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