Page 97 of The Laird's Masked Desire
Domhnall had not let go of her. His hand remained firm around her wrist, as though he feared she might vanish if he loosened his grip.
Margaret said nothing. She could feel the tremor in her own limbs now that the danger had passed. Her heart was still racing from the fight, from the rough hands that had dragged her toward the door and away from that place.
The chamber door closed behind them with a heavy thud, and Domhnall turned to her.
“Are ye hurt?”
His voice was sharp with urgency. Margaret blinked.
“I told ye, I am nae.”
“Did they strike ye?”
“Nay.”
“Did they cut ye?”
“Nay.”
His fingers brushed lightly along her wrist where the MacGregor man had held her. Margaret winced. His jaw tightened instantly.
“I will kill every single one of them,” he vowed.
She shook her head, placing her hand on his shoulder. “It’s naething. I’m all right.”
“It is nae naething.” The anger in his voice startled her.
Margaret reached up instinctively, catching his sleeve.
“Domhnall.”
He stopped moving then. For the first time since they had entered the room, he looked directly at her. Margaret saw it clearly now, the fear he had tried so hard to hide, not the controlled fury she had seen in the corridor.
“I thought—” he began, but the words stopped.
Margaret understood the rest without hearing it. Her throat tightened.
“I am here,” she said softly.
The adrenaline that had carried her through the evacuation, through the struggle in the corridor, began to drain from her all at once. Her legs felt suddenly weak. The memory rushed back: rough hands, the service door, the certainty that she was about to be dragged out of the castle.
Without thinking, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him. Domhnall stiffened in surprise. Margaret pressed closer, burying her face against his chest.
“Dinnae leave,” she whispered, breathing in his scent.
His arms closed around her slowly.
“I must,” he said quietly. “The castle?—”
“Nae yet.” Her fingers clutched at the fabric of his shirt. “Please.”
Her voice trembled despite her efforts. “I thought they were taking me away.”
Domhnall’s hold on her tightened. Margaret could feel the powerful beat of his heart beneath her cheek. Then, she lifted her face slightly. Their eyes met. Everything that had nearly happened, all the fear, the fury, the desperate relief, hung between them.
“I could nae breathe,” she said quietly. “When they dragged me toward that door.”
Domhnall’s hand rose to cradle the back of her neck. “I would nae have let them take ye.”
