Page 22 of Highland Ruse

Brilliant red blossomed against the man’s filthy leine, and a coppery scent overwhelmed Kaid’s senses.

Blood.

A rush of saliva filled his mouth. He swallowed hard, but the world around him blurred and spun.

He tightened his grip on the hilt of his blade.

He needed to concentrate.

His body acted on instinct, blocking the blow aimed at his head.

He needed to win.

To save Elizabeth.

But the blood. Wet and vivid and violent.

On his blade. Not his hands.

His blade.

A scream rent the air and burst through his narrowing thoughts.

Elizabeth.

• • •

Delilah screamed because it was expected. Her throat ached from the ferocity of the act.

Still the man did not let go of her hair, fool that he was.

Who pulled hair?

She wanted to grab his arm and throw him to the dirt so she could plunge her blade into his throat while he was still in a state of surprise.

But she had to act like a lady. Frustration niggled at her thoughts. She shoved it away and focused on her situation instead.

Kaid had only one man on him. If he’d so easily taken down her six guards previously and not managed to kill a single one, she knew he could take on the one man and save her when he was done.

Her attacker gave a savage wrench on her hair and sent a fresh wave of pain burning across her scalp. “Where’s yer jewelry?” he asked in a grating voice. “And yer coin?”

The grunts and clangs of the battle Kaid fought sounded nearby. They were preoccupied enough that she could allow herself some offense. After all, the hair pulling was getting ridiculous.

Delilah lifted her leg and let her foot come down hard atop his. Surely a lady would have no qualms with stomping on an attacker’s toes. The man released her hair long enough for her to stand upright.

“Leave me,” she said in a hard voice.

The man snarled at her, revealing a missing front tooth. “I’ll take that necklace ye’re wearing.”

Before she could back away, his clammy fingers caught at the large paste jewel at her neck. One hard jerk and the simple clasp snapped free.

Her hand darted out, and she slapped him, not with the delicate touch of an offended lady, but with all the strength she possessed.

The power of it turned his head and left an angry handprint emblazoned on his cheek. When he turned back to her, his expression burned with rage.

“Ye foolish chit.” He pulled a dirk from the top of his boot.

“If you kill me, you won’t know where my coin is.” She spoke in an arrogant tone she was sure would enrage him.