Tender Feud

“Katrine, it’s Meggie. You know she can’t speak.”

Katrine struggled fiercely with her conscience. “Meggie, my love, I’m sorry we had to miss your lessons, but your guardian is acting like a stubborn mule. I shall be happy to resume my position as soon as he agrees to contact my uncle.”

She was so certain she could hear Raith gnashing his teeth, she almost smiled.

When he murmured something softly, though, she decided he must be speaking to his ward. At length he raised his voice again. “Katrine, this won’t do. Meggie needs to see you. I think she wants to make sure you’re unhurt.”

Katrine hesitated a moment longer. “Very well, she may come in. But only if you leave first.”

“All right,” he answered, before she heard the fading sound of boot heels on cobblestone.

“Raith?” she asked, just to make sure he had gone. When he didn’t answer, she decided it was safe to let Meggie in. “I still think you’re cruel using a child this way, to flay my conscience,” Katrine muttered as she struggled to lift the heavy bar.

She had pulled open the door a crack when Raith suddenly shoved it hard, brushing her aside as he entered the small chamber. The shock of seeing him held Katrine motionless for an instant. In a single leap, he descended the steps, his eyes searching the buttery as if he wanted to be certain she hadn’t discovered the weapons cache, while hers searched the yard for Meggie. There was no sign of the child.

Katrine’s mouth dropped open as the truth dawned on her. Raith had tricked her! Of all the perfidious— She whirled on him, enraged. “You louse! You sneaking Highland louse! You deceived me!”

“Did I?” He blew out the candle, then bounded up the steps and grasped her by the arm. “I warned you I wouldn’t put up with this nonsense. Now come on.”

“Ouch! What are you doing? I won’t go anywhere with you—” But her protests fell on deaf ears as Raith hauled her out of the buttery and into the house.

It was humiliating being dragged down the hall in front of an audience of gaping servants and loitering clansmen who had come out to watch the commotion. Katrine doubled her efforts to be free. “You cad! You blackguard! You—you lowly worm! I’ll see you hanged for this!”

He started to pull her up the narrow service stairs, but she managed to wrench her arm from his grip and race for the door. Before she had taken two steps, though, Raith had caught her. Whirling her around, he bent down and flung her over a muscular shoulder. Before Katrine knew it, she was being heaved up the stairs like a sack of oats, head dangling, posterior raised in the air.

Struggling and incensed, she pounded on Raith’s back with what little force she could summon, considering that he had knocked much of the wind out of her lungs with his uncivilized handling.

“You filthy Highland clod!” she shrieked as he reached the second-floor landing, trying unsuccessfully to grab at the banister.

“Dear God, what a spitfire you are!”

Raith grunted in pain as her fist caught a sensitive area in the small of his back. In retaliation, he brought the flat of his hand down hard on her rump. Katrine shrieked again, more in shock than in pain, since the blow was cushioned by several layers of skirts and petticoats. “Lout! Brute! You—you weasel!”

“You’re going to run out of things to call me soon.”

“No, I won’t! I haven’t even begun to list all the reprehensible terms that apply to you!”

Raith made a sound that could have been choked laughter, and the suspicion infuriated Katrine. She flailed at him wildly, which at least had the effect of making him lose his grip as he reached the top floor. He stumbled, nearly dropping Katrine to the floor, though he prevented her fall by going down on one knee.

He didn’t dare to even pause for breath, didn’t dare give her a moment’s respite, or she would scramble free, as she almost did. Determinedly Raith regained his balance and his grip. Making him lose it again was like trying to pry open a steel trap, Katrine realized as he carried her along the corridor to her garret bedchamber.

When he had thrust open the door, he strode into the room and set her on her feet, none too gently. He was breathing hard, while her fine nostrils were flaring.

“You can stay here till you come to your senses,” Raith informed her as he turned to leave.

Katrine looked wildly about her for something to throw. The room was dim even though the shutters hadn’t been closed, for dusk was falling rapidly. But she had no trouble making out the gleam of the brass candlestick beside the bed. Snatching it up, she flung it with all her might. It clattered against the wall to the right of the doorway, mere inches from Raith’s head.

He halted abruptly. With a low, muttered curse he slowly turned around. “I warned you....” At the same time his hand reached out to grasp the door and swing it shut.

The deliberate way he set the latch was acutely menacing. He wanted privacy to murder her, Katrine decided. She took a hasty step backward. In the fading light she could see Raith’s fierce expression and the slow, threatening way he was advancing upon her. But there was nowhere to run. In only a few paces her back was pressed against he wall.

Still he stalked her, until he was fairly facing her. Katrine flinched as his fingers closed savagely about her upper arms.

“You’re a menace to the population,” Raith said in a tone that was nearly a growl, “and to me in particular. And I won’t countenance it any longer.”

He stood towering over her, his hands gripping her arms as if he might shake her. And he started to, she could feel it. Her lips parted in a gasp of pain as his hard fingers dug into her tender flesh.

He was glaring down at her, into her eyes, but at her gasp, his gaze suddenly shifted to her mouth. His own eyes were hot and dark and glittering with an emotion that was deeper than fury, darker than passion.