Page 343 of Wicked Highland Heroes

Victoria flicked the reins against the flank of their steed and the horse bolted forward.

A few minutes after they set out, the sound of hoof beats came from the direction they were headed. Victoria yanked back on the reins. The horse snorted and danced about as Victoria rounded her in a circle, seeking any form of refuge. Her companion began to whimper and struggled to dismount.

“Calm yourself,” Victoria ordered. She gripped the pommel, which pinned the girl and steadied her own hand. Victoria spurred the mare into action. East, around the men, instead of north where Fauldun Castle lay.

A moment later, the sound of a warrior’s cry filled the air. Victoria leaned forward, covering the body of her companion. The deafening sound of hooves surrounded them and a line of men appeared. Victoria yanked back on the reins. The horse squealed and would have reared but for her keeping their weight forward on the steed’s powerful neck, urging her back onto all fours.

A haze of plaid confronted Victoria, followed by a wave of dizziness at recognition of the soft MacPherson colors she had longed to escape only a few hours ago. Iain MacPherson came to a skidding halt beside her. Her gaze flew to his and a stillness gripped the onlookers. She realized that he, along with everyone else, knew she had run away. Even his appalled expression when his stare took in the young woman cradled in her arms did nothing to soften the steel in his voice when he addressed her.

“What has happened?”

The simple words nearly finished Victoria’s assent into the abyss she teetered on. Iain appeared unmoved by her stuttered explanation, and his gaze once again settled on the girl. Victoria felt the last of her courage falter and tears mingled with her words, bringing Iain’s attention back onto her. He motioned for one of the warriors to take the woman from Victoria, but the girl shrank from the man’s touch.

“You need not worry,” Victoria whispered. “He will not hurt you. It is best you ride with him.”

Still she resisted. Iain urged his stallion closer and, at the brush of his thigh against her legs, the girl’s fear transformed into weeping. He leaned forward as if to forcibly take her from Victoria, and Victoria steadied the horse’s reins when the animal scooted back at the intrusion of his stallion. She shot Iain a beseeching look. He swore, but turned his horse from hers with a hard yank on the reins and gave the command to ride.

* * *

Standing in the modest bedchamber, Iain shifted his attention between the woman who sat on the edge of the bed a foot from him and the woman who now lay sleeping as a result of one of Rachel’s potions. The girl’s light brown hair, washed and brushed, lay against crisp white sheets. Her torn garments had been replaced with a simple night shift. The steady rise and fall of her breasts beneath the covers gave evidence of the strong spirit that commanded the battered body. Iain’s chest tightened. His woman could have fallen prey to the men who committed this atrocity had he not found her when he did.

Thomas’s discourse with the Robertsons when he encountered them hadn’t revealed their real reason for being on MacPherson land. As the MacPhersons enjoyed little trouble from their southern neighbors, and because Thomas had been frantic to locate his charge, he hadn’t questioned the explanation that they were just riding through. But there was little doubt they were responsible for the girl’s condition.

With her asleep, Iain’s patience came to an end. He nudged the lass, but she waved him off. When he nudged her again, she shook her head, and he leaned down saying, “Do not test me. I will throw you over my shoulder and carry you out.”

With a sigh, she rose. When they reached the great hall, she started toward the dining table, but Iain took her hand and led her outside. Her hesitation became resistance when he started across the courtyard.

“Release me.” She tried to tug free of his grasp.

Ignoring her, Iain dragged her along behind him. She dug her heels into the ground, pulling even harder. Iain whirled, hauled her over his shoulder, and continued forward.

“How dare you!” She pounded her fists against his back.

Iain passed a group of warriors, who laughed. She ceased beating him and lifted herself just enough so that it was clear she was looking in the direction of the laughter. Her body clenched and she growled. When he entered the grove, she began flailing her legs about in an attempt to kick him. Iain clamped down on her legs.

“You will pay for this, you brute.” She wriggled in a vain attempt to free herself.

Iain broke out of the grove and started down the open path that led to her cottage.

“Mamma, look,” a little girl called from a cottage porch.

His charge stilled.

A woman appeared in the door. “Sweet God in heaven.” The woman grabbed her daughter, yanked her back into the cottage, and slammed the door shut.

More laughter rang out in the wake of Iain’s path until they disappeared into the privacy of her cottage. He tossed her onto the bed. She opened her mouth to say something, but he cut her off by coming down on top of her.

“I warned you,” he whispered in a harsh breath. “Now, little bird, how do you plan on escaping the wrath of your keeper?”

Her cheeks colored. “I—I was not trying to escape.”

The desire to believe her did nothing to quash the tide of emotion that heaved through his chest. “You would have me believe such drivel?”

“I have never lied to you. Had I resolved to escape, I would not deny it.” Iain raised a brow.

“Do not worry, Lord Keeper,” she flashed a reckless smile, “you will someday understand I speak the truth.”

“Aye?”