Highland Hellion (Highland Weddings #3)(17)

Which stirred a memory.

“Diocail let us go.”

“Aye,” Rolfe agreed. “I was glad of it, too. I would no’ have enjoyed killing the man.”

“Tyree would have been a different matter entirely.”

Rolfe snorted at her words. “What the devil is Marcus MacPherson thinking to train ye like a lad?”

She tried to go around him, but he stepped into her path again. “Do nae insult the man by denying it. No one wears MacPherson colors or rides a horse out of their gates without his knowing, and I’d say ye’ve been training for a good many years. Why does he allow ye in his training yard? There is no way he is ignorant of it.”

A tingle went down her spine, one that was pure enjoyment. Words were easily spoken, but she’d impressed Rolfe with her skill. Something she’d earned.

“I might ask why not?” Katherine responded.

Rolfe chuckled, only it wasn’t a happy sound. It was a male one that offered her a promise of his opinion being different from hers.

“For one reason: the facts of what happened there in the Gordon stronghold. Being a lass means ye are prey to more than a man might be.”

“You mean to a man’s bruised pride.”

“Tyree’s was bruised indeed,” Rolfe agreed with her. “And it nearly got ye burned at the stake.”

A lump decided to form in her throat right then, and it wasn’t easy to swallow. Rolfe didn’t miss her struggling to cast off her horror.

“Aye, it should stick in yer throat, lass. Ye’re damned lucky I was here to go in after ye.”

She scoffed at him. “You are the fortunate ones, for without me, there would have been plenty of McTavish blood spilled under the moonlight. I distracted them so they never saw you.”

“That stubborn nature of yers is going to get ye killed yet.” It was a grudging agreement. Something she had come to expect among burly Highlanders.

“It kept me alive for the last day, so I’ll be content and bid you good-bye. I’ve a mind to make it back to MacPherson land.”

“I do nae think so.”

“It is not for you to consider at all,” Katherine replied. “I belong on MacPherson land.”

Rolfe shook his head. “Nae, ye’re English, and ye have nae told me who yer sire is. The MacPhersons took ye from somewhere.”

“They saved me,” she said, her voice full of emotion.

“From what?”

Katherine felt a tingle on her nape. For all that Rolfe McTavish had rescued her from a horrible fate, the fact was that he’d been creeping about in the night, looking to toy with the MacPhersons, and he had held Helen for ransom just after her wedding to Marcus. As far as Highlanders went, he was a rogue—in every sense of the word. Standing firm was the only way to keep a man such as him from making her his next prize. Well, and making sure he didn’t have any reason to believe she was worth anything.

“I have thanked you, and now I tell you good night,” she said firmly, attempting to end the conversation.

“Tell me yer name now or later.” He closed the distance between them, sending a twist through her insides. “I will know who ye are.”

“Not if I am on MacPherson land.”

“Ye won’t be,” Rolfe informed her. “Ye are coming back to McTavish land with me.”

“You have no right to do any such thing.”

“That is exactly the point ye need to absorb.” Rolfe edged closer. “When ye venture out away from yer home, ye have no rights, except for the ones ye can ensure through force. There is strength in numbers. Marcus should have taught ye that, woman.”

He really was a beast, both in size and thinking. She stepped to the side, but he followed her, unfolding his arms to make it harder to evade him.

“Forgive me.” She tried a different approach. “I thought you a man of honor, unlike the Gordons.”

His lips curled up, flashing his teeth at her. “Compliments already, Katherine?”

“More of a reminder,” she offered softly. “As a hope that you shall not disappoint me by continuing with this rough treatment. I wanted to thank you, and I have. The fact of the matter is, we are both in each other’s debt. An honorable man would accept that and allow me to depart.”

“Honor comes with knowledge.” There was a hard edge to his voice that Katherine knew came from bitter lessons learned the hard way for all of the best reasons.

“Marcus MacPherson has done ye a disservice by no’ teaching ye to think of others before riding out into the night alone. Even I was no’ out by meself.”

That was a hard truth. She nodded and tried to let it be enough of an admission to soothe his need to instruct her. The urge to leave was growing, making her restless and suddenly so aware of the fact that she was standing there in nothing but a shirt and boots, with a man who seemed to notice far too much about her.

“Ye’ll taste rougher treatment if I allow ye back to a place that clearly lets ye do as ye please without any regard for the men who might have to fight to defend ye,” he stated firmly, his tone telling her he was becoming more and more set in his thinking.

“Stop it,” she instructed him. “I am not any of your kin, so concern yourself with those you share blood with. They are the ones you owe your attention to. Not me.”