"Son of a whore."
As swiftly as a snake uncoiling, Callm jerked her aside. He was on his feet in two seconds flat, frantically dragging his plaid around his bare waist in a bid to cover himself the next. Jesus Christ, how the hell could he be caught like this? Where the hell were his men? More importantly, where were his boots?
"No' in there?" A voice swept in from the cave mouth. "Where is he then? I must speak with him. Out the way. I'll wait in there till I do."
Meg. He cursed foully beneath his breath. Holy God. For all Wee Murdie could fell three men with a single blow of his claymore he was no match for her.
"s**t. Son of a—give me that you damn bitch." He tried dragging a boot out of Dug's mouth. "Now. Get off, you damned cur."
"Callm, are ye there? Is that you? Callm?"
Maybe
