Page 17 of In the Highlander's Bed

For the second time in her life Constance was speechless. The first time had been when he’d kissed her.

Who was this man?And why was he ruining her life?

She’d grown up on the frontier. She’d learned how to judge a man quickly. Gordon Lachlan wasn’t one to speak carelessly.

Behind them the others laughed and talked. They were in good spirits. They almost seemed a completely separate party of riders, one out for a lark. It wasn’t to Lachlan…and she knewthen how to pay him in kind for disrupting her life.

“They don’t share your passion,” she said.

He all but flinched. She’d discovered his weakness.

“They care,” he said, an edge to his voice that his soft burr could not hide. “But a man likes to talk to keep awake when he’s riding hard.”

Constance was tempted to call him a liar. Fortunately, common sense intruded. Baiting him would give her satisfaction but not what she wanted.

Inspiration struck. “What if Ipaidfor my freedom?” There had to be a way for her to find money. She’d lost everything she had during the escape, but once she reached the valley, she might be able to borrow some. She’d heard that people borrowed money for all sorts of things.

Or, once she was safely home, she could write and petition Charlotte for the money. “You could craft another sword out of the money and no one would be the wiser.”

He glanced at her as if she’d grown horns out of her head. “I wouldn’t do that. ’Twould be dishonest.”

“Oh, yes,” Constance commiserated, “kidnapping is far more honest.”

The moonlight caught the flash of anger inhis eyes. “I don’t expect you to understand. The power of that sword goes back a century and more. It’s the clan’s pride. Colster doesn’t deserve it.Weare its rightful owners. He must return it.”

“And then?”

“And then I’ll use it to chase the English into hell.”

The vehemence in his voice made her uneasy. The men riding behind them had fallen quiet, not because they were listening but because they were tired…just as she was. The only one of their number who seemed indefatigable was Gordon Lachlan. He was driven.

“There are thousands and thousands of English on this island,” she said soberly.

“I know.”

“You can’t fight them all. It’s a losing cause.”

“I’ll do what I must.”

He didn’t prevaricate. She respected that. He believed that deeply in his purpose.

The moonlight made the planes of his face look hard. There was a fire in this man. She’d seen it before, but not here. In America.

“Do you have an army?” she asked.

“My clansmen drill now at our camp. There are others who yearn for justice but they don’t believe we can succeed. The Sword of the MacKenna will give them a voice. Then, they will join us.”

She shook her head. “I know something about war. I’ve seen Indian battles and witnessed how ruthless men can be when the blood lust is upon them.” She didn’t want to think of Gordon Lachlan that way. He was her kidnapper, he’d tricked her, but there was something humane and honorable about him, too.

He seemed to read her mind. “Don’t judge me harshly, Miss Constance,” he said. “I have cause for my actions. The English allow a nasty habit to occur here, one they wouldn’t allow in their own country. It’s called the Clearances. Landowners have discovered the profit in sheep and want grazing pastures. These men who were once chieftains of their clans have gone English and shoved aside their responsibilities to the crofters and yeoman who have given them allegiance for centuries, all for the sake of money. They no longer accept their responsibilities to their people. They are forcing them from their homes, often with no more than the clothes on their backs, and using the land for sheep. It’s not right. It’s not the way things are done in Scotland. People should mean more than beasts.”

Constance shook her head. “It sounds as if it is the Scottish with whom you have a complaint, not the English.”

Disgust laced his voice as he said, “Aye, these landowners have English titles and prefer London to their own country while English troops set fires to burn the crofters out. They’ve left thousands of people with no homes, no land, and no way to feed their children.”

“Isn’t there a magistrate or someone who can use the law against this practice?” Constance asked.

“The English make the laws, lass, and they make them in their favor.”