“We’re goin’ to…” Archer’s voice floated to her over the crowd, but she did not catch the end of it.
Emilie’s head had been swiveling back and forth, trying to notice every little thing about the buildings that they were passing and the ships on the sea beyond, when she hadn’t noticed the man only a few feet away.
Her body hit him with the full force, her breath leaving her in an ‘umph’as she collided with him.
“Me apologies,” Emilie stammered, taking a step back as quickly as she could. “I was tryin’ to take in the beauty of Thrums and I wasnae payin’ nay mind to where I was goin’.”
Emilie blinked up, shielding her eyes from the sun as she stared up into the face of the strange man she’d just run into. She had assumed that her apologies would be met with kindness; it was a simple mistake, was it not?
But the man before her looked haggard. He glared down at her, his black eyes glinting as his hand whipped out. Immediately, his hand clamped down on her slender wrist, his grip tight enough to bite.
“Ow!” Emilie cried out, immediately throwing her weight backwards to try to break the stranger’s grip on her hand.
“What a bonnie little lassie ye are,” the man hissed.
His breath floated across the space to her, rank and filled with the acrid scent of whisky. Emilie’s stomach turned.
What was this man about to do to her? What did he have in mind? Surely nothing good. Not from the way he was leering at her.
She jerked again, fighting to free herself from his grasp. But it was to no avail. The man was clearly much stronger than she was.
He grinned, revealing rotten teeth. A fear like Emilie had never known welled within her, and tears sprang to her eyes just as a hand clamped down on the man’s shoulder.
“If ye daenae let go of me wife right this moment, ye’ll find yerself missin’ an arm. And that’s only if I daenae decide to take yer head along with it.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Archer gritted his teeth, tightening his hold on the man’s shoulder. He watched as the thug standing before him, the one who had his hand wrapped around his wife’s wrist, turned to face him.
Based on the look on the man’s face, he had been preparing to tell Archer to piss off. But as he turned, his eyes roving over Archer and figuring out exactly who was standing before him, all color drained out of the thug’s face.
“Me Laird,” the man stuttered, immediately releasing Emilie’s wrist. “Me apologies.”
The moment Emilie’s hand was free, she darted around the thug, moving so that she was hiding behind Archer’s massive form.
“Go,” Archer barked, the command leaving him with all the fury that he could muster.
The man startled, stammering out more apologies as he turned on his heels and disappeared into the crowd. Archer watched the top of his greasy head weaving in and out of people until it disappeared entirely, and then he rounded on Emilie.
“What in the heavens were ye thinkin’?” he growled, glaring down at his wife.
He regretted the harshness of his tone almost immediately once his eyes landed on her. She was shaking, her eyes wide with fear as she continued to try to hide behind him.
“The nuns were right about this place,” was all she murmured, and the words were so low they were nearly swallowed up entirely by the crowd. “I shouldnae have come.”
Archer deflated a bit, reaching out and taking her hand. Emilie didn’t seem to register it at first, her eyes darting to and fro as if waiting for the thug that had grabbed her to return.
“The nuns were nae right,” he growled, leaning down to pick up her hand and turn it over.
He inspected her wrist, looking for any sign of physical harm. But other than a bit of a light red ring from how tightly the man had been gripping her, Emilie’s wrist seemed free from injury.
“Clearly they were!” Emilie argued, finally looking directly at him, and her gaze seemed to clear a bit. “Barely even here a quarter of an hour and already I’m gettin’ accosted. That mancould have done anythin’ to me. He looked like he wanted to do such terrible, terrible things.”
“He wouldnae have been able to do them,” Archer assured.
He hadn’t yet dropped Emilie’s wrist, and Archer was surprised to find that he didn’t want to. So, he kept hold of her, feeling her still shaking against his skin.
“What do ye mean he wouldnae have been able to?” Emilie protested. “Of course, he would have. He was right there. He had a hold of me, or did ye fail to notice?”