Free Lady Danger (The Warrior Maids of Rivenloch, Book 1) by Glynnis Campbell, Sarah McKerrigan Page A

sabotage.  Surely you know that slaying your husband will only call the King’s wrath upon your clan.”
    “I wouldn’t slay him,” she said.  “I’d only maim him.”
    Pagan could easily guess upon which part of him she intended to inflict damage.  “Maybe you’re right, Colin,” he considered, nodding thoughtfully.  “I shouldn’t be alone with her.  Maybe both of us should share her bed tonight.”
    That sufficiently startled her from her dire threats.  She glanced back and forth between them in disbelief.
    Colin delightedly agreed.  “Oh, aye, ‘twould be my privilege, my lord,” he said, raking his gaze lasciviously along her body.
    “What?  Nay!” she cried, unsure whether they were serious.  “You would not,” she said, searching both men’s eyes for the truth.
    Colin shrugged.  “I don’t see where you’ve left me any choice.  You’ve made threats on my lord’s life.  I’m honor-bound to protect him.”
    Her exasperation was most amusing.  “I won’t slay him.  I swear it.”
    “Nor maim him?” Colin asked.
    Suspecting now that they only provoked her, she gave him a grudging sigh.  “Nor maim him.”
    “Very well.”  Colin took two cups of ale from a passing maidservant, giving the lass an appreciative perusal that made her giggle.  “Then I’ll find somewhere else to sleep.”  He nodded farewell and followed the blushing wench toward the hearth.
    Reluctantly, Pagan let Deirdre slip from him.  But before she could escape, he caught her by the arm.  “Don’t try to run away, wife, or...”
    Pagan had heard of brides taking their own lives rather than facing the terrors of the marriage bed.
    “Run away?”  She drew herself up proudly.  “This is my castle, sirrah.  And I’m no coward.”
    Her words gave Pagan curious relief.  Aye, she was most assuredly no coward.  Perhaps this eve wouldn’t be the painful ordeal he’d imagined.
    “Besides,” she fired boldly as a parting shot, “ someone has to teach you how to steward a castle.”
    She turned her back on him before he could glower at the insult.  Instead, he shook his head and sighed, watching her hips twitch provocatively as she climbed the stairs, trailed by Miriel's handmaiden.  Satan’s ballocks, this new wife of his was going to be a handful.  Yet he had to admit he’d rather be wed to a willful wench full of fire than a shrinking shadow of a maid.

    Deirdre felt Pagan’s heated gaze all the way up the steps, and for once, the attention unsettled her.  Her face flushed hot, and she would have tripped on the last stair, but Sung Li, following close behind, caught her.
    "He who fears to fall, falls hardest." The runty little maid, stronger than she looked, helped her regain her balance.
    Deirdre frowned at her cryptic remark.  Most of the time she didn't understand Sung Li, even when she wasn't speaking Chinese.  Still, the woman had been of great help today, and Deirdre owed her a debt of gratitude.
    "Here."  She dug in the small purse hung from her belt, withdrawing the tower key, along with a piece of silver, and pressed them into the maid's palm.  "Miriel is in the south tower.  Free her.  Make her understand."
    Sung Li's lips thinned.  She kept the key, but returned the coin.  "My loyalty is not for purchase."  Then with a proud snap of her chin, she turned and swaggered off.
    Deirdre couldn't enter her chamber quickly enough.  Once safe inside, she slammed the door and leaned back against it, taking solace in the solid barrier between her and her new bridegroom.
    Lord, she felt as edgy as a lone mouse in a barn full of hungry cats.
    Deirdre was accustomed to having the upper hand.  For years she’d daunted men with her imposing stature and her noble status as a lord’s daughter.  Her clansmen followed her orders without question.  And strangers quickly learned to treat her with the proper respect.
    This Norman afforded her no deference whatsoever.  Not as a noble