She scarcely made it to the edge of the paddock before she was knocked to the ground and the breath knocked from her lungs.
The men were suddenly shouting, but she could not make out what they said, she could not make out anything other than the hate in Jamie MacGrudy’s eyes when he roughly rolled her onto her back and glared down at her. “Ye bloody accursed little whore, ye cost me a position in a fine house!” he spat. “Do ye think I willna take what is—”
He never finished his sentence, for he was suddenly flying. Someone leapt over Mared and fell upon him, beating him mercilessly. Mared scrambled to her feet and struggled to catch her breath. It was a moment or two before she could focus and realized that it was Payton beating Jamie senseless, and that two gentlemen were pulling him off Jamie, forcing him back. Payton lashed out with his boot, kicking Jamie in the small of his back.
“Leave him, laird!” one of the men bellowed.
Two more gentlemen appeared and crouched down to examine Jamie, who was moaning and gripping his stomach.
Payton shook off the men who held him as if they were gnats and leaned over, grabbed Jamie by the collar, and hauled him up to his feet. “If ye ever so much as look in her direction, I will kill ye, aye?”
“Aye, aye,” Jamie whimpered. One of the men pushed Payton aside and two more put their arms around Jamie to help him walk.
“Lock him away!” Payton roared.
“Aye, laird, aye,” one of the men assured him, patting him on the shoulder. That man glanced at Mared, then at Jamie’s back, and walked on, the other men falling behind him and the two that led Jamie away.
When they disappeared around the corner, Payton pivoted around to Mared. He had blood on his waistcoat and his shirt. His jaw was clenched tightly shut, but he suddenly strode forward and in three long strides, he caught her, yanked her into his arms, and cradled her head against his shoulder.
“I’m sorry, Mared, so very sorry,” he said and suddenly released her, set her back from him so he could study her closely. There was still fire in his eyes, and his jaw was implacably set. His nostrils flared with each furious breath, but he carefully laid his palm against her cheek, his eyes searching her face.
She couldn’t help herself—her hands were trembling, her nerves had made a mess of her belly, and there was something so fiercely protective in the set of his jaw and the hard glint of his eye that she crumpled. Tears slipped from the corners of her eyes; she could feel twenty-seven years of defense melting away, and without thought, Mared flung her arms around his neck and buried her face against his shoulder.
Payton caught her around the waist and held her tightly to him as she sobbed onto his shoulder. She felt such relief and safety in the circle of his arms, felt connected to this man by some thick and indestructible bond. Her heart was falling, slipping out from beneath the stone wall she had erected, sliding and tumbling out from its armor. She could hear Donalda whisper, The truth is in yer heart, lass….
She believed.
Mared turned her face from his shoulder to his neck, her lips landing on the curve of his jaw. She heard his quick draw of breath, felt him hold it. “Ye saved me,” she muttered helplessly against his cheek. “How will I ever thank ye?”
“Diah, Mared, do ye no’ know it well by now? I’d lay down my very life for ye.”
She did know it. She’d always known it, but this was the first time she’d been willing to acknowledge it deep within herself. She opened her eyes and looked up at him, this man, this powerful laird, who was looking at her in astonishment and with hope in his eyes. She thought it odd that he could appear so strong and vulnerable all at once. Her gaze swept his handsome face—the thick brows over slate gray eyes, the aquiline nose, the proud cheekbones, the square jaw…the dark flesh of his lips. How had she resisted him for so long? How had she let something like a name keep her from him?
Now her heart tilted, knocked her off her bearings, and she caught Payton by surprise with a sudden kiss to his mouth. A hard, unyielding, determined kiss. Payton took her chin in his hand, turned her head slightly, and opened his mouth to hers, stroking her with his tongue. His other hand swept down her back, to her hip, and clutched her, pressing her into him, then sweeping up, to the swell of her breast, cupping it reverently, squeezing against the fabric that confined her, his fingers brushing the bare skin above the bodice.