"Defenseless?" the man roared. A thick blue vein pounded in the center of his forehead, and the outer corner of his left eye twitched in time with it. "The bitch tried to run me through with her sword when I found her. Then, after I finally wrestled the weapon away, she kicked me. Hard. Twice. I dinny call that defenseless!"
Gabrielle's gaze raked the man's sturdy body. "Are you a Maxwell?"
"Aye, Roy Maxwell, and proud of it!"
"Is it only you, or are all Maxwells afraid of being kicked by a girl? A girl who is," she hastened to add, "by your own admission, unarmed?"
The second the words had slipped off her tongue, Gabrielle knew that she should have resisted the urge and bitten them back. Baiting the enemy was never wise, especially when one had no means with which to back up one's words and, more importantly, the enemy in question was a seasoned reiver from one of the most brutal riding families on either side of the Border. By the time she realized her mistake, of course, it was far too late to correct it.
A pregnant pause hung heavily in the cool morning air; it was broken by the sparkle of Ella's laughter. The sound severed the tension and was quickly joined by more than one husky chuckle from the band of Maxwell men.
"Och! fancy that," Ella said in a taunting tone that made Gabrielle wince. Thanks to the men's encouraging reaction, the girl had apparently grown bold. That Ella was enjoying herself, Gabrielle hadn't a doubt. "A big, strong Maxwell afraid of being kicked by a wee lass such as m'self. Tsk, tsk, tsk. Yer da would be ashamed of ye, Roy, truly he would. And speaking of Johnny Maxwell... where is the auld brute?"
Roy Maxwell's attention narrowed on Ella. The vein in his forehead seemed to thicken even as his eyes narrowed to furious green slits.
Gordie, sensing his younger brother's mounting ire, answered before Roy had the chance.
"Last I saw, he was being slashed up by yer aunt's sharp tongue, lass."
"Ah, I see," Ella said, and nodded almost sympathetically. Almost. Her attention never left Roy. "Like father, like—Eek!"
Roy made a grab for Ella's wrist. The girl, however, was much too quick for him; she quickly stepped behind Gabrielle. Cursing under his breath, Roy tried to go after her, but Gabrielle squared her shoulders and took a sidestep to block him. A warm tingle of awareness along the right side of her body told her witho
ut glancing in that direction that Connor had put on his kilt and was now standing by her side. His presence comforted Gabrielle in ways she didn't dare try to understand.
"Leave her alone, Maxwell," Connor growled, and the words made Roy stop cold. "Gabrielle is right, the lass isn't armed, she cannot harm ye."
A change came over the Maxwell men. They were not chuckling now, nor even smiling. Instead, they regarded The Black Douglas with the sharp, wary eyes that a reiver of his stature and reputation deserved.
The previous tension returned in force; it electrified the early morning air until Gabrielle could have sworn she felt it crackle against her skin.
She glanced at Connor. Was it only an hour ago she'd seen this man's face relaxed, his eyes dark and sparkling with passion? Aye, it surely was. His expression was no longer calm, and the glint in his gray eyes would never be mistaken for passion as his narrowed gaze, sharp and piercing, assessively scanned the Maxwells.
Gabrielle swallowed hard and resisted the urge to take a step backward.
So this was the man whom ballads had been written about. It was her first real glimpse of the Border reiver side of Connor Douglas. Gabrielle knew she'd be lying if she said she didn't admit to feeling a shard of intimidation shoot through her.
She'd an inkling it was a feeling she shared with quite a few of the Maxwell men; two of whom, while they bravely stood their ground, shifted their weight uneasily from one foot to the other. Was it any wonder?!
Hard.
Cold.
Powerful, determined, and undeniably ruthless.
All those words and more summed up her impression of the legendary Black Douglas. Even unarmed, his presence radiated strength and authority. Standing nearly a head taller than his rivals, his virile form, harshly chiseled features, and chilly gray eyes commanded attention, respect, and more than a little awe.
Gabrielle felt Ella squirm behind her. Reaching back, she swatted the girl on the bottom to get her to be still.
It was Gordie who finally spoke. "Enough o' yer bickering, they'll be maun than enough time for it later. Right now, we ride. As 'tis, Da and Colin should reach the keep hours sooner." He shifted his attention first to his brother, then to one of his men. "Roy, fetch their horses. Magnus, get some rope. Seamus and the rest of ye, stand ready to tie them onto their mounts. Hostages so distinguished dinny come 'round often. Take care that we dinny lose them."
The area was suddenly full of activity as the men hurried to do Gordie Maxwell's bidding.
Four of the Maxwell men placed themselves around the Douglas trio, guarding to make sure no chance of escape was available.
Gabrielle leaned close to Connor and whispered, "It doesn't look good for us, does it?"
"Nay, not at all," he replied, his distant tone indicating his thoughts lay elsewhere. His gaze, she noticed, was still on Gordie Maxwell. His scowl was deep.