Kila
had just finished washing her face, when her step-mother stormed into the
bedchamber.
"You
are in need of a new gown for the Earl's ceilidh, and there is a most reputable
dressmaker in Port-na-craig." She placed several coins on the table.
"See if she has a ready-made gown to your liking."
Inwardly,
Kila groaned. "I have many beautiful gowns from which to choose. I'm in
need of no more."
Verona's jaw muscles tightened, as they always
did when Kila argued with her. "I'll not have you embarrassing me in one
of those drab things of yours. Now hurry, before you miss the mid-day
meal." She turned on her heel and exited the room.
Kila
looked at Wyn and blew out a long breath. Accompanied by Wyn and Fergus, she
left The Blackbird Inn and stepped into the narrow street across from the
dressmaker's tiny shop.
A
man on horseback suddenly appeared from out of nowhere and bore down upon her. Behind
her, the maid screamed, but before Kila could be trampled to death, a pair of
strong arms pulled her out of harm's way and against a chest of stone.
"I'll
fetch Lady Murray, m'lady," sobbed Wyn, before disappearing inside the
inn.
Fergus
stood nearby, his usual red face void of all color. "I dinnae see him,
m'lady, until he were nigh upon ye."
"Are
you well, lass? asked the Highlander who had rescued her.
"Aye,"
she nodded, noting how devastatingly handsome he was.
He
frowned. "Are you certain?" Concern was clear in his voice.
She
nodded.
"The
fool," he growled, shaking his head. "How could he have no' seen you?
'Twas as if he was bent on running you
down."
Her
knees suddenly felt weak, and she swayed on her feet.
The
Highlander must have realized her predicament, for he lifted her into his arms
as if she weighed no more than a feather.
She
should insist he put her down immediately, but it felt so wonderful being held
in his strong arms."Might I ken your name?"
He
grinned, and her heart lurched against her chest. "Duncan, Duncan
MacDonnel. And your own, lass?"
"Kila
Murray—Lady Kila Murray."
"Glad
to be of service, Lady Kila Murray," he said with a devilish grin and a slight
tilt of his head. "It appears you're staying at The Blackbird Inn as well."
"Aye,
along with my step-mother and a small party."
"Then
I'll see you to your bedchamber." With Fergus following close behind,
Duncan pushed open the door and carried her inside, then headed for the stairs,
but was interrupted by the nearby screeching of her step-mother.
"Put
my step-daughter down immediately," she ordered the Highlander.
Duncan
made no move to follow the woman's demand. "The lass was nigh on trampled
to death, and is yet unsteady on her feet. I plan to see her to her bedchamber."
"What
the man says is true, m'lady." Fergus offered. "Seen it m'self."
"Nonsense,"
she snorted, ignoring the guard. "Put her down, or else I'll have her
taken from you."
Duncan
clenched his teeth to keep from telling the blasted female to go to the devil.
Kila
gently placed her hand on his arm. "Please, I dinnae wish to cause you any
trouble."
He
looked into her amber eyes, noting the tiny flecks of gold, and gently set her on
her feet. "Then I bid you good day, my lady."
She
smiled. "Much thanks."
He
nodded, then headed upstairs to his bedchamber. He stretched out on the bed and
crossed his arms. He would like to have spent more time with the bonnie lass,
but her infernal step-mother had put a stop to that.
Obviously,
the woman was unaware of how close Kila had come to being trampled to death, or
else she certainly would have shown more concern for her step-daughter's
welfare.
To be honest, the whole ordeal puzzled him. The
rider would have had to be blind not to have seen the lass standing there in
the open. He frowned, as an icy finger trailed up his spine. Aye, something was
amiss.
I hope you enjoyed!
Happy Thanksgiving!
Gwyn
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