now.” Sutherland stepped back from the cow. “She looks to be doing well. We should step out of the stall and give her the room she needs.”
“I’m staying right here.” Sorcha angled around, sitting in the straw beside the animal’s head.
Sides heaving, the cow strained, then struggled and returned to a standing position again.
“She canna find the placement she wants.” He stepped out of the stall but kept the gate open, blocking the exit with his body. He waved her forward. “Come, lass. Give her space. I know she’s docile enough, but she could accidentally crush ye. She’s already come close to doing so once.”
Sorcha stood but wasn’t about to leave the stall. Not only did her pet need her comforting, she wasn’t about to give Sutherland the idea that she would do his bidding whenever he asked. “I’m staying in here with her. All will be fine. She needs me close.” Inwardly, she smiled at the loud snort her announcement drew until he wrapped his arms around her, picked her up, then set her feet back to the ground, right in front of him at the gate.
“Then ye will stand here where I can grab ye up and keep ye safe if need be, ye stubborn woman.”
Momentarily speechless, she clenched her hands to her sides. How dare he do such a thing! She was not a child to be scolded and moved by force. But a little voice inside bade her admit that his act had secretly thrilled her. She scolded the idiotic wee voice in her head and gritted her teeth so hard her jaws ached. Nay. This was not acceptable, and he needed to learn that.
Peigi chose that moment to settle back down in the hay and, with a huge shudder, expelled her calf.
Sorcha held her breath, praying the mother would accept the baby. Relief and joy filled her as the animal nosed her offspring a few times, then busied herself with the task of cleaning the little one up.
“Well done, my wee one,” she praised quietly. “Such a good mama ye are.” She eased back a step and bumped into Sutherland, then turned and glared up at him. Time for his lesson in manners. “Ye will do me the courtesy of getting out of my way, Master MacCoinnich.”
“Master MacCoinnich?” He didn’t move, just widened his stance, and folded his arms across his wonderfully broad chest.
“Aye.” She lifted her chin. If it was a battle he wanted, it was a battle he would get. “Move, Master MacCoinnich. Now.”
He frowned and gave a slow shake of his head. “I willna be moving until ye address me properly.”
“Ye will move,” she said with a hard but useless shove against him. “And I did address ye properly, sir. At least I didna call ye an overbearing arse.”
“Nay, woman.” Sutherland leaned down until his nose was within a hair’s breadth of hers. His stubborn heat embraced her, held her prisoner. “Whether ye wish it or not, the two of us are now on a much more familiar basis than Master MacCoinnich.”
“In whose opinion?” Every time the man opened his mouth, he only riled her more. She wished to become his wife, not his property, nor someone expected to follow his every order. He would not tell her how to speak.
“This visit has taught me much about ye, m’lady,” he said in a low, deadly tone. “And I’ve a feeling we’re just getting started.”
“Ye’ll be taking yer hands off the Lady Sorcha,” warned a voice Sorcha had known all her life. “Release the lady now or discover the true sharpness of my blade as it slides through ye.”
Chapter Three
The bite of a sword between his shoulder blades brought his battle-hardened instincts to life. Sutherland spun and slammed his fist into the assailant’s jaw. As the man flew backward, he spared him half a glance, ensuring the fool didn’t move once he hit the ground. The intruder landed flat of his back several lengths down the stable’s center aisle.
What an idiot to threaten him in such a way. Sutherland turned back to Sorcha, but she shoved around him before he could speak.
“Heckie!” she crooned as she knelt beside the unconscious man. A worried scowl puckered her brow as she framed his already swelling face between her hands. She shot a furious look back at Sutherland. “Did ye have to hit him so hard? Ye’re three times his size.”
More like four. But he didn’t wish to sound vain. “I’ve never treated a sword at