Unwilling (Highland Historical #2)

quail he was tearing apart with his fingers and shoving into
his mouth. 
    “Throw her in the corner with the
others,” he commanded. 
    “But, sir, she claims to be—”
    “I am Lindsay Ross, daughter to the
former greatest Regent of Scotland and niece to the man who currently holds the
title.  I demand , in the name of that great station, that you release every
one of these people at once.”  Her eyes flicked to the small girl who’d stirred
at the commotion of her entry and was again threatened with the edge of a
blade.
    Connor remembered a similar threat
she’d meted out to him when they’d first met.  He loved the sound of her
haughty, superior tone.  He loved the strength of courage that held her posture
ramrod straight.  He loved the violet retribution blazing in her eyes.  He
loved… her. 
    A fear, dark and bitterly frigid,
washed the pain from his body, dousing him in bleak, numb impotence.  He knew
at once, in the darkest recesses of himself, that he would die for her, kill
for her, slay everyone in this room and be denied the glory of her company,
just so she could live on unharmed.  Part of him was ashamed.  Part of him thirsted
for blood.
    After a stunned moment, Angus
stood, wiping the grease from his thin, cruel mouth with his shirtsleeve. 
Possession gleamed in his eyes as he scanned her from the top of her shimmering
raven hair, to her generous mouth, to the curves displayed by her velvet purple
dress.  She’d donned the color of royalty.  
    Clever lass. 
    She didn’t shrink from the
lascivious perusal, but gave as well as she got, making it perfectly clear that
she remained unimpressed.    
    “How bold of ye, lady Ross, to make
such demands.”  Angus towered over her, crowding her with his body. 
    Connor let out a low warning growl.
    “Release them, eh? Even yer
berserker captor?”  Angus tracked her every response very carefully.
    Faltering for the first time since
she’d entered, her gaze fluttered to Connor and her poise slipped for the
slightest instant before she jutted out on obstinate jaw.  “I said everyone .” 
    With a snort, Angus paced back
behind her, breathing into her ear.  “And what would I receive in return for
meeting your conditions?” 
    “Safety from the wrath of my clan,
from the arm of the king.”
    “Ye’ll have to do better than that,
my dear.  The berserkers have sealed their fates, but if ye want to save these
people—” He swiped with is hand to the frightened occupants of the room. 
“Ye’ll have to honor our betrothal contract.” 
    “Don’t ye dare!”  Fury coursing
through him, Connor forgot his injuries and lunged toward Angus.  The beams
groaned and protested beneath his struggles, but the shackles held fast.
    Lindsay shot him a quelling look,
but a telling blush crept up her chest and colored her cheeks.  “I’ve already
been deflowered by Laird MacLauchlan.  Our betrothal contract is then
considered void, as I am no longer in possession of my virtue.  Surely you’d
want someone else.”
    Angus smiled and wrapped his oily
fingers around her shoulders.  “You know nothing of my desires.”
    “Take yer fucking hands from her,” Connor
raged.  “Mark me, Angus, I will bathe in your entrails.”
    The little girl let out a soft cry
as her arm was wrenched painfully behind her.  Lindsay reached forward as
though to stop it, but was held captive by Angus’s hands on her shoulders. 
    “Calm yerself, MacLauchlan, we
doona want any unpleasantness to befall the lassies.”  Angus turned a wide-eyed
Lindsay to face him.  “As I’ve already explained before ye appeared, I doona
mind if ye bless our clan with a berserker.  Be he bastard or no, he’d become
mine by law, and he’d fight for my clan.”
    “He’d always be a MacLauchlan,”
Lindsay spat.  “They would come to claim him.” 
    “They could try,” he shrugged.  “But
I canna say I mind that your channel has already been shaped, my dear.  I only
care that I’ll be the one fill the void from now on.”  Angus lowered his head
and dragged his tongue across Lindsay’s neck. 
    Connor snarled as his gaze tracked
the shudder of revulsion that trailed down Lindsay’s spine.  He was going to
force the man to eat his own heart after he peeled the skin from his
body.
    With a visible swallow, Lindsay
forced out a laugh.  “I highly doubt that, my Laird, it would rather be like a
twig trying to fill a tunnel shaped by a timber