Page 8 of The Highlander’s Untamed Lady

The Mackenzie gave a sad smile. “Aye, ye are.”

Zeus’ head dipped before drawing upright, only to dip low again. “What’s wrong with Zeus?”

“The tonic.” The Mackenzie indicated the empty wineskin. “I put it in the ale in case ye needed more convincing.”

Diana stared at him, incredulous. “You poisoned me? My wolves?”

But she didn’t need to ask. Already the world seemed too slow, too distant. If he answered, she did not hear him. Zeus fell heavily on his side at her feet, almost knocking her down.

She had indeed been poisoned. They all had. Her feet wouldn’t cooperate and the cave spun in a disorienting blur.

She had lost.

Evander was glad he’d given her the tonic after all. He’d almost declined her request for the wineskin, but her stare had been so desperate, her full lips puckered from lack of moisture. He could not bring himself to say no.

It had worked to his benefit.

Diana stumbled forward, almost tripping over the black wolf lying in a final show of valiant protection over her feet. She caught herself on the wall, both hands splayed over the red stain. Confusion puckered her smooth brow. “It’s cold,” she murmured.

She glared at him through heavily lidded eyes and her hair caught around her face like gold netting. “If I had my dagger, you’d be dead.”

“Aye,” he agreed. “I dinna doubt ye’d try.”

“I’d do more than try.” Once she’d managed to slur out her threat, her lashes swept over her cheeks and she slid down the cave wall.

Evander caught her as she fell, before she even had a chance to touch the ground. Beneath the heavy mantle, voluminous cloak, and oversized dress, there wasn’t much to her at all.

He stared down at her now. Her father had said she was five and twenty, though she didn’t appear so old. She had the freshness of youth glowing from her creamy skin and a rosy flush to her cheeks and lips. Holding her securely in his arms, Evander left the cave with the two wolves sleeping behind him. He’d be back for them later with several other men after he had Diana safely in the carriage.

The drugging had been her father’s suggestion. He’d mentioned having put the lass on a limited fare to make her more compliant. Based on how quickly the tonic hit her and how thirsty she’d so obviously been, the woman hadn’t had a thing to eat or drink in some time. Anger knotted in Evander’s gut.

He wanted to ensure they were wed, of course, but he hadn’t wanted her tortured for it. Apparently she had been.

Because she didn’t want to marry him.

He refused to allow himself to register the slight. After all, she’d run off every suitor before him, men who were richer, more powerful, of higher birth. English.

Lord Cornwall was clearly desperate to approach a Scotsman – a Highlander no less.

The worst of the rain had stopped, but still the journey was a sodden one which left them both soaked through.

The lass didn’t so much as move in his arms. He stopped every twenty steps or so to listen for her breathing, to ensure she still lived. He hadn’t expected her to be so slender nor to be so thirsty. Perhaps she had taken too much of the tonic.

The thread of fear in his chest pulled taut. He would not forgive himself if anything happened to her. She may have been ill-treated by her father, but she was in Evander’s care now and he would ensure no one ever hurt her again.

“Ye had to drug her after all, eh?” Camden grinned at him as he approached. “I told ye ye’d need to.”

Evander slid a hard stare at his prized warrior. Were it not for the lifetime of friendship they’d shared and Evander’s arms currently full with his intended wife, he’d personally show Camden another method for incapacitating.

Evander addressed his men. “Prepare to leave. We need to get her wolves.”

Several men eyed him with skepticism, but they did not voice their displeasure at this decision. They didn’t need to. Evander knew exactly their thoughts – bringing such large beasts home when there was little food to feed their own families would not be well-received.

But without the wolves, Evander knew he would not have the bride. And without the bride, they would all die.

Soon they would have food. Not just the stores Lord Cornwall had promised to send, but also from the coin Evander had been given. Half now, half when the earl received confirmation of the union.

Diana’s body was entirely limp, a doll both fragile and vulnerable, though Evander knew neither to be true. She stayed asleep when he climbed into the carriage and laid her on the padded cushion. Her wet blonde hair pillowed her face, gold and glowing cream. He had the sudden urge to trail his hand down her smooth cheek, to brush his fingertips over her full lips, to sample their soft warmth. His right hand tingled with the desire.