his gauntleted hand slid up to squeeze her breast.
An entirely different kind of fear ran through her.
"Oops," he whispered. She tried to wrench away from his disgusting touch, but it only made his hand squeeze harder. "I can see why your husband is so anxious to get you back. I've never seen tits like these. If you weren't married to Buchan, I'd take my reward right now."
Suddenly, she jerked toward the sound behind her. Her heart dropped, hearing the unmistakable clang of steel on steel.
Her captor had heard it as well. "After the rest of my men take care of the rebel, you can scream all you want."
Oh God, Lachlan! The pang in her chest was surprisingly strong.
He wasn't the man she would have chosen to escort her, but the thought that he was fighting for his life--or possibly already dead--right now proved ... distressing. Suprisingly distressing.
Bella went slack, as if the fight had gone out of her. Even if MacRuairi couldn't help her, she had no intention of allowing this man to take her back to her husband. She would fight until she couldn't.
Her apparent submission worked. That, and the fact that the forest had suddenly gone quiet resulted in her captor loosening his hold.
She had her opportunity and took it. She bit down as hard as she could on his meaty hand, stomped her heel on his instep, and thrust her elbow deep into his beefy belly.
Caught unaware, he let go with a grunt, more from the shock than the force of the blows.
She lunged toward the nearest gap in the trees, knowing she had only a few seconds before he recovered.
"You little bit--"
The rest of his curse was cut off by a sickening thud.
She chanced a glance behind her and saw him teetering like a big oak tree about to fall, the hilt of a dagger protruding from his neck.
Before he'd hit the ground, MacRuairi emerged soundlessly from the trees. He bent over the dying man, pulled out the dagger, and drew it across his throat with cool efficiency, putting a decisive end to the threat.
His gaze found hers through the filter of leaves, branches, and bracken. "Are you all right?" His voice was surprisingly thick. It made her feel the strange urge to cry the way she had as a little girl when her mother asked her the same thing after something horrible had happened.
Her throat tight with emotion, she could only nod.
"It's safe now; you can come out."
The rush of relief that hit her was so profound that Bella felt tears spring to her eyes. She stepped into the clearing.
He took one look at her and went as rigid as stone. She'd forgotten she was naked until that moment. His eyes never left hers, but she sensed he saw everything.
Still, she would have run to him. Done something incredibly foolish and launched herself into the warm solidness of his chest and arms, wanting nothing more than to feel safe. But the look in his eyes stopped her.
If she thought she'd seen him angry before, it was clear she hadn't. His mouth was white, his jaw was clenched in a tight line, and his eyes were as cold and hard as chips of green ice. She could see his hand squeezing around the hilt of the dirk he still held. Every muscle in his body seemed drawn up tight, rigid with rage. She couldn't look away from the muscle flexing ominously below his jaw.
There was something infinitely more dangerous about his cold control than the hot rage she'd met with before.
What was wrong with him?
She shrank back, but in two long strides he was at her side.
Taking her by the elbow, he hauled her up against the hard muscular wall of his chest. Heaven help her, she felt every ridge, every plane, every hard shard of muscle. Her heart pounded, not just with fear.
"If you'd wanted a man to help you bathe, you only had to ask." She gasped, shocked by his accusation. "I told you not to leave my sight." He was shaking her. "Why did you sneak away? What did you think you were doing?"
A ball of tears rose in her throat and burned behind her eyes. She didn't understand why he was so
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