Lyon's Gift (7 page)

He grinned when she glowered at him, but that only
seemed to vex her all the more. “Och! I have no idea what they say!
Who bluidy cares anyhow! But no good comes of it, I can assure you
that!”

Lyon chuckled. He couldn’t seem to help it; her fit
of temper amused him. She was strong-willed like his mother, aye,
but with one intriguing exception. His mother had expressed herself
with words alone, softly spoken but deadly in earnest. The harridan
before him spoke with every inch of her lovely body: her eyes, her
face, her hands, her very stance bespoke her every emotion. She was
as easily read as was Mother Nature in her change of seasons, and
as irrepressible and vivid in her expressions as a burst of spring
wildflowers. Christ, but she was a beautiful little termagant.

And she had no husband.

The thought niggled its way into his
consideration.

A vision of luscious red hair against pale sheets
accosted him, and the image tightened his loins.

Damn, but it had been a long time.

Much too long.

Damn it all. Suddenly, he didn’t wish to fight any
longer; his fun was spoiled. How could he battle against her
bastard brothers when he coveted their lovely sister in his bed?
He’d much rather be wooing her... making love to her... kissing
those delectable lips...

The problem was... how was he supposed to get her
brothers to leave off now that they’d come so far in this feuding?
He wasn’t naive enough to think it would cease simply because he
suddenly wished it so.

Unless he married the wench.

His gaze settled upon the long-legged harridan
standing before him. With arms akimbo she stood watching him
warily, her beautiful face a testament to God’s mastery. Christ,
but even scowling she was exquisite. It made him yearn to coax a
smile from those sweet lips. He could do it, he was certain. How
many pouty mouths had he cajoled into smiles? More than he could
count.

She had no husband.

The thought reared once more, and he suddenly knew
what he wanted to do.

David had given him a piece of Scot soil in hopes
that his skill at arms would provide unity and peace for Scotland,
but Lyon had a far more useful talent to apply toward David’s
cause. ’Twould be a sin to leave his experience to waste.

He grinned.

She took a step backward, seizing her skirt in her
hand as though she would flee. “Why are you looking at me so
strangely?”

“
Because,” he answered, grinning
at her, “I believe I have the perfect solution.” He turned to
Baldwin, nodding in her direction, commanding him without words to
seize her. Baldwin lifted his brows, understanding at once, and he
smirked at the girl.

Lyon felt a sudden unreasonable stab of
protectiveness toward her.

She took another step backward, seeming to sense the
exchange between them. He and Baldwin had been together so long
words were seldom necessary between them.

“
Solution?” She cocked her head
adorably. “What sort of solution? What are you talking about,
Sassenach?”

Lyon didn’t answer at once, and she continued to
move backward, instinctively placing the lamb between herself and
any imminent threat.

Damned if it was going to do her any good, because
Lyon was suddenly determined as hell. Knowing her gaze was focused
primarily upon him, he spurred his mount to the left of her,
blocking escape in that direction. He hoped Baldwin had his wits
about him just now, because he’d need to be quick to catch her
unawares. The woman was shrewd; he recognized the canny gleam in
her deep green eyes. Careful not to glance in Baldwin’s
direction—the last thing he wished was to remind the wench of
Baldwin’s presence—he drove her toward Baldwin. He didn’t give her
time to think, because she’d doubtless realize his intent. He
feigned an advance to the left, forcing her toward Baldwin—only
Baldwin was no longer there. Baldwin had dropped back to remove
himself from her field of vision. Lyon waited to spy Baldwin’s face
behind her now, not daring to give her time to look about, and then
charged after her. She turned instinctively and fled into Baldwin’s
waiting arms.

She shrieked in outrage.

“
Insolent wench!” Baldwin
exclaimed. “Who’s more the fool now, eh?” He dragged her toward the
bushes behind which he’d tethered his mount.

“
Nay! She rides with me,” Lyon
announced.

Baldwin made the mistake of turning to question him.
“Are you certain, Lyon? She’s a wild one.”

Lyon didn’t have time to respond.

“
I’ll bluidy well not ride with
either of ye!” she swore vehemently, and to Lyon’s surprise and
Baldwin’s misfortune, twisted like a snake within his friend’s
arms, catching his wrist firmly between her teeth. She bit down.
Hard. Lyon could almost hear the crunch of Baldwin’s bones and he
cringed, but was too awed by her mettle to do anything but watch
the scuffle.

Baldwin howled in pain, and spat a few of his
favorite expletives, but she didn’t let go.

“
Wench!” he yelped, sounding
distressed now. “Take her, Lyon! Arggghhh! Take her!
Aaaeeeeyyahhh!”

Christ, if he didn’t stop her, Lyon realized, she
was going to kill the poor bastard!

She reached back to seize a handful of Baldwin’s
hair when he didn’t at once release her, and then suddenly seemed
to change her mind and reached beneath his mail to catch the
unfortunate Baldwin between the legs.

Lyon’s eyes widened in alarm, but not wider than
Baldwin’s.

Cunning vixen.

Baldwin’s yelp betrayed shock first, then pain. He
went pale as parchment. His wild-eyed gaze met Lyon’s. “Please!’’
he managed to squeal. “Pleeeeeeeze!”

Lyon shook himself from his stupor and spurred
himself to Baldwin’s rescue, plucking the wench’s writhing form up
from Baldwin’s limp grasp. It was more than apparent as he lifted
her who had hold of whom, and Lyon couldn’t smother a chuckle of
disbelief.

The vicious little wench!

Poor Baldwin staggered as she released him.

“
How dare you treat me this way!”
she railed at Lyon, kicking as he lifted her. She seemed entirely
unconcerned over the thud of Baldwin’s burly body as he fell limply
onto the ground.

“
Christ, wench! You’ve killed
him!”

Deciding that he couldn’t afford to attend Baldwin
until his own private matters were safely guarded, Lyon scooted
backward and settled her before him upon his mount. As a matter of
self-preservation, he forced her arms to her sides and lifted his
thighs over her legs, allowing his weight to pinion her.

Baldwin groaned, but didn’t stir.

“
Let me go, rotten Sassenach! He’s
not dead, can’t you hear him weep? Serves him bluidy
right!”

Lyon was certainly relieved to see it was true, but
he wasn’t stupid enough to release her.

Peering up with glazed eyes, Baldwin announced,
“She’s riding with you!”

Lyon answered with a hearty chuckle.

“
She’s a bloody menace!” Baldwin
squealed, his voice yet to return to normal.

Damned if Lyon didn’t agree.

He grinned down at his old friend, holding the wench
more firmly when she twisted furiously before him, and said, “I
noticed.”

His grin widened when Baldwin scowled up at him.

Meghan watched both of them incredulously.

How dare they simply sit there conversing so
blithely—as though he weren’t ripping her arm in two with the force
of his grip!

“
You’ll let me go if you ken
what’s good for you!” she interjected.

Montgomerie loosened his grip, though he didn’t
release her. He slipped one arm firmly about her waist and leaned
to speak low into her ear. The warmth of his breath made her cheek
tingle and sent a quiver down her spine. “Mayhap I don’t know
what’s good for me, wench?” he suggested, his voice much too
whispery to be soothing.

Meghan reared back and slapped his face for taking
such liberties, and resisted the urge to yelp when she managed to
push his face against her own in turn.

“
Bloody hell!” he said and glared
down at her, looking more startled by her slap than
angered.

Meghan was startled by her reaction as well, if the
truth be known, but she certainly wasn’t going to show it. She
rubbed her cheek in dismay. Och, but her temper was surely going to
be the death of her one of these days! She peered at Montgomerie
with narrowed eyes. “Trust me when I tell you that it hurt me more
than it did you, Sassenach!”

“
That woman’s insane!” Baldwin
declared, staring openmouthed from the ground below.

“
Hurt you more?” Lyon sounded
bemused. He raised a hand to his face, stroking where she’d slapped
him. “That’s precisely what my mother used to claim when she would
rap me upon my head.” Even as Meghan watched, her handprint
manifested itself upon his cheek. Guilt pricked at her, but she
ignored it. There was no way she was going to feel remorseful for
defending herself against these mercenaries! “Somehow,” he went on,
“I cannot think so.”

“
Of course it hurt me more,”
Meghan persisted. “I managed to strike myself as well, didn’t you
see?”

His brows twitched. “What a pity,” he said, his
mouth quirking, and Meghan was no longer certain whether he was
angry or amused.

Surely not amused?

“
I say we let her go!” Baldwin
announced. “For her own sake,” he explained. “If you don’t strangle
the insolence out of her, Lyon, I bloody well will!”

“
Nay, you’ll not,” Lyon proclaimed
in deadly earnest. “You’ll accord her the respect due your
mistress.”

“
What!” The outcry came at once
from both Meghan and Baldwin together. Their gazes collided, and
then each turned to stare in disbelief at Lyon. He smiled at her,
and she knew he must be mocking her. “What did you say?” she and
Baldwin asked again in unison, and then turned again to glare at
one another.

“
Will you stop!” Baldwin snapped.
“I’ve no need of an echo!”

“
I have a right to speak, you
graceless oaf!” Meghan replied, wholly undone now. Surely she
hadn’t heard him right! She narrowed her eyes at Baldwin. “By the
by,” she added, “I think you look like a quivering fish flopping
about in that silly mail shirt. Why don’t ye worry yourself about
gettin’ up, and mind your own affairs while you’re at
it!”

His ears turned bright-red, Meghan noticed, and she
smiled with satisfaction. He turned to Lyon. “She’s bloody mad, I
tell you! No woman I’ve ever known speaks to a man so
disrespectfully! She’s no lady!”

Meghan would have cast herself at him to slap his
face had Lyon not restrained her. “Mayhap because you bluidy
Sassenachs don’t know a real lady when you see one! You like your
women bloodless as cadavers with all that paint on their milksop
faces! And spineless as slithering slimy worms!”

“
God’s teeth! She’s not only mad,
but she’s bloodthirsty,” Baldwin declared. “And a thieving Scot, to
boot!”

Meghan gritted her teeth. Och, but she was going to
murder the rotten Sassenach. “Why, you!” She tried to kick out at
him, but couldn’t move her legs with Montgomerie’s blasted
ten-stone thigh draped over her limbs. “I’m no bluidy thief!
You’re
the bluidy thieves! You’re the ones who’ve robbed
everything but the teeth from my brothers’ mouths!”

He had nothing to say in his own defense, Meghan
noticed. Instead he turned to Montgomerie.

“
What in God’s name are you
thinking, Lyon?”

Montgomerie had remained entirely too silent during
their furious exchange, Meghan realized suddenly, and turned to
face him, only to find him grinning at her.

“
I’m thinking the two of you are
going to need keepers, is what I’m thinking.” His blue eyes
twinkled with mirth.

Meghan blinked at their brilliance.

Och, but up close, his eyes were bluer, even, than
her brother Colin’s, and as luminous as sapphires.

“
You cannot be
serious?”

“
Why not?” he answered, grinning
still.

Meghan couldn’t begin to conceive what he could
possibly find so amusing just now. “You cannot simply wed with
someone against her will,” she apprised him as calmly as she was
able. He was making sport of her now, she realized.

“
Of course I can,” he argued.
“’Tis quite commonly done.”

Meghan stared at him in utter disbelief.

“’
Tis the perfect solution, as
I’ve said.”

“
Solution to what?” Meghan
answered, aghast, only to find herself with an echo once
more.

Baldwin, the idiot, was still lying upon the ground,
staring up at his lord as though he thought him gone utterly mad.
“Solution to what?”

“
To end the feuding, of course,”
Montgomerie replied. “I grow tired of sparring with
children.”

Meghan screwed up her face in disbelief as she
turned toward him. “You cannot believe that forcing me to wed with
you will end the feuding, you daft mon! My brothers would sooner
see me a widow!”

“
You want to end the feud, Lyon?”
Baldwin sounded nonplussed by the notion. “But I
thought—”

“
I’ve changed my mind!”
Montgomerie replied. “Get your arse up, Baldwin!”

“
You’ve changed your mind?” Meghan
repeated, apprehension rearing.

She peered from one man to the other, not liking
what it was she was hearing.

“
What do you mean you’ve
changed your mind
?” She narrowed her gaze at
Lyon.