Teresa Medeiros by Whisper of Roses Read Free Book Online Page B

hospitality leaves much to be desired, Dougal Cameron,” Morgan snarled, his hot breath fanning Sabrina’s hair.
    Dougal lifted his bloodstained hands in plea. “Don’t do this, Morgan. I had no hand in killing your father. If you’ll give me the chance, I swear I’ll help you find the scoundrel who did.”
    “My father gave you a chance. And look what it got him. Gather your arms,” he commanded his men.
    The MacDonnells fell on the weapons like a pack of ravening dogs. Their greasy hands snatched the rusted hilts of swords and dirks, caressed the scarred butts of their pistols. As each man straightened, his eyes narrowed to hungry slits at the thrill of approachingbloodshed. They were in their element now, poised for open warfare and prepared to kill the men they’d just so amiably dined with.
    Sabrina’s own eyes narrowed as she spotted the bonny dark-haired MacDonnell among them. How had he gotten back into the hall? Had she simply overlooked him in the chaos? Her questions were swallowed along with her dread as she realized her own clansmen stood before the MacDonnells as unarmed and helpless as lambs for the slaughter.
    Morgan backed toward the door, using Sabrina as a shield.
    Dougal slammed his fist on the table. “Damn you, Morgan, free her! She’s only a child! This fight is between you and me.”
    Morgan’s voice rumbled down Sabrina’s spine, his words meant only for her ears. “You killed the wrong MacDonnell, brat. You should have cut off my head when you had the chance.”
    Morgan rarely made tactical errors in the heat of battle, but indulging himself in that taunt proved to be a costly one. For Sabrina, time swept backward. He was no longer a dangerous stranger who held the fragile thread of her life in his hands, but that same vexsome, arrogant boy who had trod upon her tender feelings at every turn.
    “Always have to have the last word, don’t you?” she said, her voice deceptively soft.
    Every snippet of ruined embroidery, each of her tarts he’d so gleefully fed to Pugsley, every tear she’d never shed was in the force of the blow as she swung her fist behind her and smashed it into his face.
    Morgan’s eyes crossed at the pain, and he knew she had broken his nose. “Why you wee bi—”
    Suddenly he was holding a flailing dervish in his arms. Her sharp little heels tattooed on his shins. Between grunts and pants of exertion, she managed to choke out, “If you’d … use … that thick skull of yours for something other than hanging a … b-b-bonnet on, you’d listen to my … father.” She bit the hand he shoved over her mouth, drawing blood.
    His men exchanged uneasy glances. None of them had ever bested Morgan in any contest, and they had the scars to prove it. Now this half-English slip of a girl actually seemed to be holding her own with him. Her black hair streamed over her face; her white teeth snapped at the air in a quest for fresh flesh.
    “Want me to shoot her, Morgan?” Ranald suggested hopefully, cocking his pistol.
    Morgan saved him the trouble by slamming her to the floor and pinning her beneath his weight. His men cheered, thinking a new sport was in the offing. What better revenge for Angus’s murder than to defile the Cameron’s daughter while he and his sons were forced to watch? They licked their lips in anticipation, hoping for a turn of their own when Morgan was done with her.
    Brian lurched forward only to find a MacDonnell dirk pressed to his throat. Alex cast his father a desperate glance, but Dougal stood silent, his expression almost pensive as he watched the two locked in a battle of wills on the floor of his hall.
    Morgan had trapped Sabrina’s thighs between his own and captured her slender wrists in one of his hands. Both of their chests were heaving as their gazes locked. Morgan tasted blood where the back of her head had split his lip.
    “Shag her once for me!” one of his men called out.
    Morgan saw the color drain from Sabrina’s