Free A Dangerous Damsel (The Countess Scandals) by Kimberly Bell Page A

robbed. If there was another fight coming, he’d prefer to take it head on.
    “Stuff it, Curtis, or I’ll fu—” The man on the ground gasped from the impact of Angus’s boot.
    Deidre advanced on Curtis with a gentle smile and sultry sway of her hips.
    Ewan almost felt bad for him. Almost.
    “I don’t want to hurt you, Curtis.” She patted him gently on the shoulder. “You seem much nicer than your friend, and smarter. So why don’t you just tell us who you work for?”
    Curtis clearly didn’t like pain and he wasn’t overly fond of the man on the ground, either. His decision didn’t take long. “I’m sure he’ll go easy on ye. He’s got a soft spot for pretty lasses.”
    Who doesn’t
, Ewan thought.
    “I believe you,” she told Curtis. “Who is he?”
    “Lord Broch Murdo.”
    The air left Ewan’s lungs. His father. Had the letter been a lie? A trick? His father was still alive?
    Deidre frowned at her hostage. “Curtis, why would you lie to me?”
    Curtis sputtered. “I dinnae lie.”
    Tristan leaned in. “Lords don’t run petty thieving gangs, Curtis.”
    “He is a lord! Lives up at Castle Broch Murdo and everything!”
    Angus joined the group surrounding Curtis. He drew a knife and rested the tip against the man’s chest with quiet menace. “Think hard, lad. Does he look like my big friend over there?”
    Curtis turned to Ewan, blinking. “No. His hair’s dark and he’s shorter.”
    Breath returned. That was not Ewan’s father. So who in the bloody hell was impersonating the Earl of Broch Murdo—impersonating Ewan apparently. There was really only one way to find out.
    “Pack up and bring them. We’re going to the castle.”

Chapter 8
    Castle Broch Murdo was a crumbling ruin. Deidre had lived in some rough accommodations in her life, but this place Ewan had brought them to might just be the roughest. As far as she could tell, the only reason it was still standing was that it had been built to withstand sieges and catapult attacks. The squat little fortress clung stubbornly to the land atop the cliffs, leaking stone in places but maintaining its stalwart foundation.
    The tree line had encroached on the castle’s walls, allowing them to stop a few feet from the gate without being immediately visible to anyone inside. Their haphazard party was gathered there, arguing in the early morning light.
    “It isnae safe,” Ewan said for the fourth time.
    Angus was losing patience. “It’s as safe as we’re like to get, lad.”
    “I’ll go alone.”
    “Ye will nae. The only thing we know for certain is the castle is overrun with thieves. Maybe it’s just a few, and maybe they’re all as stupid as this lot, but ye cannae be certain.”
    “I’m nae dragging a woman into danger.”
    Deidre wasn’t exceptionally keen on risking her life either, but it was beginning to sound preferable to standing around in the damp morning mist. “You could take Angus.”
    “And leave the lot of ye out here with the horses and our kit,” Angus scoffed. “I dinnae think so.”
    “We wouldn’t—”
    “Mayhaps nae, but if ye did, it would be my own damn fault for trusting ye.”
    She couldn’t really argue with him. If their situations were reversed, she wouldn’t trust her, either. The only thing keeping her from grabbing what she could and bolting was the lack of anywhere better to go.
    “I could take Tristan.”
    Deidre turned on Ewan. “If it’s too dangerous for me, no way in hellfire are you taking my brother.”
    “Hey.”
    “Absolutely not, Tris.” She wasn’t going to sit out here, thinking the worst, with both of them in there.
    “I’ll go alone.”
    “Ye willnae. Take the lass.”
    “The lass ye dinnae trust with yer horse and bed roll,” Ewan reminded Angus.
    “I trust her instincts when it comes to saving her own skin and she’s hardly helpless. Ye’ll take her.”
    Ewan looked like he would keep protesting indefinitely. Deidre didn’t have the patience for another round