Page 28 of My Highland Love

Marcus strained to make out the figure's form in the moonlight, but the hill cast too dark a shadow on the valley. “God damn it,” he muttered. “If anyone has given away our presence—” The loud neigh of a horse broke the quiet. “What the bloody hell?”

“The horses,” Michael hissed as the Campbell horses bolted.

Shouts rose, and the Campbells sprang up and after their mounts.

“What are they up to?” Marcus yanked his gaze back onto the figure in the shadows near the horses. He leaned forward in the saddle and was riding to the left of the camp.

“Take two men and bring back that rider,” Marcus said. “Be careful not to alert the others to our presence.”

Marcus turned his attention onto the Campbell men running through the trees in an effort to retrieve their scattered horses. Then waited.

The light sound of a boot treading close came from the darkness and Marcus jerked his head around.

“Laird,” one of his men said, “come quick. We have the rider.”

He pulled his breacan close and backed away from the crest of the hill, jumped to his feet, then hurried downhill at a near run. At the bottom, he broke through the circle of his men, hand on the hilt of his sword.

“Nae! Laird, stop!” came a chorus of low voices.

Marcus felt his sword arm jerked back, but he saw the prisoner even as someone grabbed his other arm. He went stock still. “Elise?”

“Yes,” she replied.

Even in the shallow light of the cloudy darkness, he could discern her drawn expression. “Are you unharmed?”

She smiled, her mouth quavering a little. “I have a blazing headache, but I'll live.”

Marcus started forward, but two of his men seized his arm. “Release me.” He yanked free, then took two steps and halted before her. “You are the rider?”

“Yes.”

She swayed. Marcus caught her to him.

Elise clutched at his shirt, burying her head in his chest. She didn't move for a long moment, then took a shuddering breath and mumbled against him, “If I could sit down.”

He whipped off his cloak and wrapped it around her. Marcus slipped an arm beneath her and she threw her arms around his neck when he lifted her into his arms. He knelt and gently settled her in a seated position on the ground. Her arms remained tight about him for a moment, then finally relaxed.

Marcus straightened, his gaze falling on her bare feet. “Where are your shoes?”

She glanced from her feet back at him. “I took them off. What woman attempting an escape would go barefoot?” She gave him a hopeful look. “Sensible, don't you agree?”

“Sensible?” he repeated.

Elise abruptly grasped her stomach. Marcus held her head to the side as she wretched violently. The convulsion ceased and he wiped her mouth with the tartan.

She sat up. “Had to happen eventually,” she croaked.

“Will you be all right?”

She nodded but averted her face. “I'm much better.”

Marcus stood. “Michael, you, Brian, and Finn remain here. Get the horses,” he said to the remaining men, then looked at Elise. “I assume you freed their horses?”

She nodded.

“Marcus,” Michael said. “We stumbled upon two Campbells. They were the guards west of the camp. Seems we were wrong. They had moved. Probably the only ones who had horses.”

“Dead?”