Free The Legend of Lady MacLaoch by Becky Banks Page A

us. A man pushed Kelly backward, forcing him through the crowded dance floor. Despite my unsuccessful tries earlier to make room, it seemed this man could move bodies without effort. I watched as Kelly’s face went from attempted seduction to outright pouting. It was disgusting.
    When I got a better look at the man who had a grip on Kelly—who I was starting to feel wasn’t calling Kelly out on my behalf but for some deeper, longer standing reason—I groaned inwardly. Would I never see the last of my resident jerk? Clad in clothes similar to what he’d worn the day before, he nodded in my direction as if to emphasize a point to Kelly. His grip on Kelly’s shoulder tightened, and Kelly made a pained expression at him.
    Slowly the MacLaoch turned and met my stare. His expression was dark and dangerous, and it growled, You. He looked back at Kelly for a few final words, and I made my escape to the bar to close my tab and leave. Sure, he’d just helped me out, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to be anywhere near someone like him if he was close with someone like Kelly.
    Of course, the only open place at the bar was next to Ice Empress—who was wearing an expression, I guessed, that was as close as she would ever get to a smile. She was extremely smug. And I wasn’t so slow as to not realize that the MacLaoch had been on the other end of the phone call she had just made. I’d thank her later.
    I was just signing the check when I saw him approach from the corner of my eye and heard him say under his breath to her, “Eryka, go wait in the car.” When she didn’t immediately move, he punctuated it with, “Now.”
    Oh jeez.
    He moved in beside me and very gently took the credit card receipt from my hand, read my name, and handed it to Johnny the barkeep.
    “Johnny, put this on our tab, aye? And I’ll have a dram of the Talisker twenty-five year.” His voice was smooth, no hint of the anger he’d just demonstrated.
    I watched as my receipt got shredded and Johnny reversed the credit on the little machine he’d used to run my card. Johnny moved with silent obedience to this man, and I watched all this as the MacLaoch watched me.
    “Dinnae know ye’d be meeting my cousin later,” he said. “Ye get around.”
    “Excuse me?” I met his glacial blue eyes, hoping he could feel the daggers in my glare. “Thanks for covering my tab, buddy. It was unnecessary, but I’ll take it because if that guy is your cousin, we’re even now.”
    His whisky arrived and he swirled it around in its glass and took a sip before saying, “And how does one small bar check make us even? I’m sorry, lass, but if ye remember, I pulled ye from a cliff and didn’t toss ye in the dungeon for trespass. I’d say the scales are still tilted heavily in my favor. Unless ye mean I actually ruined yer night with my cousin?”
    The room became warm as I felt my blood pressure rising. “You think I came here to boff your cousin?” I hissed at the MacLaoch, “Your cousin is a fucking pig. And had you been a second later, you would have seen him with a bloody nose and the inability to fuck anything, much less take a piss without wincing, for a month.”
    At that moment the music stopped, and I noticed the bartender was hovering in front of us, drying an already dry pint glass with his towel.
    It was still loud in the bar, with everyone talking all at once, but the MacLaoch leaned in and breathed, “Keep your voice down, and I would be very grateful.”
    Just as I was making up my mind to get the hell out of there, things got worse.
    Fletcher saddled up to us. “He’s not bothering ye, is he?” he said with as much false concern as bravado.
    I was punchy—all the liquor had seemingly evaporated from my system and been replaced with adrenaline from wanting to drop-kick Kelly.
    “Yes, Fletcher, he is. What are you going to do about it?” I said aggressively and stared him down. Waiting.
    “Oh. I uh, uh,” was all he could muster, looking from