Sheona worked hard to ignore the man behind her, but it was impossible. With every move they made, some part of her body rubbed against his. They were not travelling fast, but the canter was enough to ensure constant contact between them. It bothered her—he bothered her.

She’d been as far south as the Cullins, but not beyond. Her father, Rory MacLeod, clan chief, had promised to take her to the mainland many times. Each attempt was thwarted by another MacDonald attack. In an ironic twist, the clan preventing her from seeing the rest of Skye was responsible for that exposure.

Once in the mountains, if she could get away from him for just a moment, could she find her way out? If so, then what? Walk back to Dunvegan? She wasn’t familiar with enough of the land past Glen Brittle forest to find her way. No, she needed to make a break from him as soon as possible.

A travelling female only had one weapon.

“I need to relieve myself, my lord. We must stop.”

“We will not stop until we’ve put enough distance between us and Dunvegan Castle. You will have to hold it.”

“I cannot, my lord. So unless you wish me to soil your saddle, you will stop your horse and let me find some privacy.”

She grinned when she heard him mutter, “cursed woman” under his breath. Sheona looked around. They had just passed Beinn Dubh. She knew this area well enough to find the coastline and then follow it back to Bracadale. From there she could easily find her way back to Dunvegan and away from these brutes.

MacDonald steered the horse to a wooded area and hopped down. He gripped her waist and pulled her off the horse, turning her toward him when she was firmly planted on the ground. He leaned down until their faces were inches apart, making her pulse quicken. He was so overwhelming she could scarce draw breath. So big. So powerful. So virile.

“You may walk twenty paces into those woods and relieve yourself. I will be right here and will be watching you the entire time.”

“My lord, I would like some privacy.”

“You will not have it. If you wish to relieve yourself, you will do it like this or you will hold it. Is that clear?” He scowled at her. “And Maggie-Meg? Do not attempt to run or you will regret it.”

She clenched her fists into balls. Curse the man for his foresight. No matter. She could run fast. And run she would.

Sheona counted twenty paces and was pleased when it brought her to a large tree. Rounding it, she stood at the back of it so that if he tried to find her he would walk straight past. She waited several moments and when she heard branches crack from his approach, she tore into a run.

She ran until her legs cramped and her lungs burned. Before long, powerful arms encircled her waist and pulled her to the ground. Air rushed from her body as his larger one pinned her.

“I told you not to run, did I not?” His voice was a growl.

He flipped her over until she lay on her back and he atop. His breath came in great pants as he stared hard into her eyes. His body pulsed above hers and stirred something within; some need to feel more of him, to have him even closer. She shifted beneath him, causing the dagger at her inner thigh to move toward her outer thigh. She prayed he did not feel it.

He leaned down until their lips almost touched.

“You have disobeyed me, lass. Do you know what that means?”

She couldn’t think, let alone speak with him so near.

“Well since you appear to have lost your voice again, I will tell you. There will be no privacy for you on this journey. If you wish to relieve yourself, you will do so with me watching, and you will do so with your hands tied. Be thankful,” he said as he rose and pulled her to her feet. “I will bind your hands in front of you.”

“You will answer for this.” Too late she realized she had over-spoken for a tradesman’s daughter.

“Is that so?”

Before Sheona could react, he reached down and pulled up her skirts. He shoved his hand between her legs and gripped the dirk he’d not located before. He raised it up and surveyed the handle and hilt. He straightened, pulling her upright as well.

Damn him.

“Your blacksmith father does good work. And it appears he also makes a good deal of coin for his efforts.” He twirled the knife in his hands. “Unless, of course, you are not a blacksmith’s daughter and are either a thief, or—”

MacDonald took a step toward her and she instinctively took a step back. “If you are not a thief, Maggie-Meg, you must be the owner of this fine weapon. And that would mean you are a lady.”

Sheona held her breath. Her secret was about to be revealed and her mind raced with the implications of what he would do once he found out exactly who she was.

“I will give you one opportunity to tell me who you are. Believe me, lass, your fate will improve if you simply admit it.”

There was no doubting he spoke the truth. Her time for secrets was up and whatever he had in mind, there was little she could do about it. She hoped he would not carry out her sentence until she was in the presence of his father. After that, she could only imagine she would suffer the same fate as her aunt Margaret, the One-Eyed Woman, and the reason the recent war had escalated in the first place. That meant being handfasted to one of them—at best.

She drew a deep breath. “I am Sheona MacLeod, eldest daughter of Rory MacLeod, chief of our clan. My torture or death will bring a bloodbath on you and yours the likes you have not yet seen. I assure you, MacDonald, my father will tear apart Knock Castle stone by stone to find me. So if ’tis ransom you seek, name your terms and I will see it done.”

By the time she finished her speech, she stood taller and was certain she had finally gained some ground with the man. She might have no control over her fate, but she would not accept it without a fight.

He grinned. For a moment, the lines of his face softened and she could truly see the handsome man beneath the scar. He surprised her further by holding out his hand. She stared at it, quite unsure what he expected of her.

“Take my hand, Lady Sheona. Had you told me who you were before, you would have received the treatment due your station.”

Somehow she wasn’t comforted. While he thought she was a common wench, he could treat her poorly; now that he knew she was a lady, she would receive proper treatment? Sheona shook her head. She would not take his hand.

“And does this proper treatment include returning me to my father?”

“You know very well it does not.”

“And why is that?”

“Because you are my property, acquired from the spoils of war and I am not ready to give you up.”

Sheona couldn’t believe her ears. He still considered her his? Anger welled within her. He had no right to her and certainly could not claim her as his prisoner. There was only one way he could have her and she had no intention of mentioning it.

“I am no man’s property.” She lifted her chin and placed her hands on her hips. “When you inform my father you hold me prisoner, he will send his army to attack Knock Castle and will rescue me. That I assure you. So put your ropes around my wrists if you must. But know this, Malcolm MacDonald, I will never be yours willingly.”

She held out her hands in mock surrender, with one brow cocked to see what he would do. MacDonald took her wrists in one hand and held them high above her head. He pushed her so she was pressed against a tree and leaned in close.

“You will be mine in every sense of the word, Lady Sheona. Of this I assure you.”

He brushed his lips across hers and her whole body shuddered in response. He pressed his mouth to hers and moved her lips open, flicking his tongue inside. The taste of him was intoxicating. Shivers coursed through her. MacDonald’s hand was suddenly on the back of her head drawing her deeper into his kiss. He coaxed her tongue to entangle with his, teasing, tasting. Sheona’s own hands found their way to the back of his neck, playing with his hair as his body pressed harder against her.

He broke the kiss and moved his hot, wet mouth down across her neck. “Your scent is wild, Lady Sheona. Like a summer meadow.”

“My lord, we must keep moving!” A voice shouted in the distance.

MacDonald ceased his delicious torture on her neck and drew back to gaze into her eyes. His breath was shaky as it fanned her face. He studied her for long moments and Sheona tried to hide her mortification over the passion they had just shared.

“Mine.” His single word was but a whisper. He took her hands and pulled them in front of her, then wrapped a rope around them and tied tight. MacDonald walked back toward his horse tugging on the rope and her. She had never felt so confused in her life. What in heaven’s name did he intend to do with her?

* * *

Malcolm was in a much lighter mood than he’d been when they left the village. Not only had they managed to acquire more cattle than they expected, which would make his father pleased, he possessed their enemy’s most valuable prize.

Of all the people he imagined, he would have never guessed he would encounter Sheona MacLeod this day. He’d heard stories of her beauty from her aunt during the year the woman was handfasted to his father.

He thought back to that time, three years earlier. At first his father seemed quite taken with Margaret MacLeod and everyone wondered if the attempt at resolving the clans’ differences through a marriage might just be settled after all.

But all that turned as the months passed and she didn’t become with child. His father was a cruel man and Margaret showed up for the morning meal on more than one occasion with an ugly bruise on her face. At some point she lost sight in one eye and it wasn’t long after that she was sent home to her brother, used, abused, and unmarried. To add insult to injury, she’d been forced to ride a one-eyed horse and be accompanied by a one-eyed groom and a one-eyed dog.

Her brother was so enraged that the last two years had been wrought with vicious warring and raids that only seemed to be getting worse. Would any of them survive it? Malcolm had to tread carefully. If he brought Sheona before his father, who knows what the man would do to her. He had no intention of letting her go, but he also had no intention of letting his father decide her fate. He had from now until late tomorrow eve to formulate a plan. In the meantime, the lovely Sheona MacLeod would not be out of his sight for one moment.

They mounted his horse and moved in line with the other members of his clan. Every part of his body that touched hers burned. She’d tasted so sweet, like drinking from a fresh mountain spring.

“Do you mind shifting back a little, Lord MacDonald? I do not have enough room.”

“Does my nearness bother you?”

“You bother me.”

“Do I? Or perhaps you are bothered by how much you liked my kissing.”

She shook her head. “I assure you, my lord, that is not the case. I did not like you kissing me at all, and I beg you not to do it again.”

“You may beg all you wish, but I plan to kiss you again—and often.”

“You do not have permission to be so bold. I am no common wench to be spoken to or abused in such a way.”

“Your aunt always said you were headstrong.”

Sheona whipped her head around to glare at him. “You are cruel to mention my aunt after what she suffered at your hands.”

“Not by my hands, lass, my father’s. But rest assured, she and I were on good terms. She talked of you often and raved about your beauty.”

“You lie. My aunt suffered tremendously the entire time she lived at Knock Castle, as you well know. Why you insist on telling me lies about her I do not understand, but I know differently, my lord, so do not waste your breath.”

“You know nothing.” That she thought he had caused her aunt harm bothered him. “I do not know what your aunt told you, and I will only say this once, I did not harm one hair on her head, nor did anyone else except for my father. I cannot, and will not, speak for his actions, only to say they appalled me. If you choose to think I am cruel, that is your choice. You will know the difference soon enough.”

“I doubt that very much, my lord.” She turned her head back to look up at him again. “There is nothing you can ever say or do to convince me there is a MacDonald alive who is not cruel and evil. I will not fall prey to your lies, so you may as well reveal my fate and be done with it. If you have any room for mercy, you will give me time to prepare myself for the horrors I will endure at your hands.”

Malcolm couldn’t believe his ears. Time to prepare herself? What did she think they would do to her? He thought back to his earlier comment about how she would serve a purpose on the journey. True that when he thought her a common wench, he hoped she would be willing to lift her skirts for him. Now that he knew she was neither common, nor willing, he wouldn’t do anything she didn’t want him to, though that did not stop him from hoping she would want him to.

“Horrors indeed, lass. You think what you will. I would not deny you any pleasure and it would appear, thinking me a monster gives you just that. As I said, you will know soon enough.”

They were coming upon Coire na Creich and would be able to unload the cattle. After that, he intended to find the pass through the Black Cullins and make camp for the night in a secluded place.

Malcolm was certain she would try to flee during the night so before he did anything else, he tied her rope to a tree where he could watch her while he sorted the cattle. He was relieved when she did not protest, but instead slumped down until she was sitting with her back against the trunk and her head bent low.

“Once I see to the cattle, I will return and bring you somewhere private so you can see to your needs. My men will not bother you, and you will be safe here.”

“It is of no matter to me whether they or you abuse me, my lord. Until I am back in my father’s care, I will not be safe.”

Malcolm shook his head and walked away. He had to get the cattle sorted and find a place for the night. One wee lass could not consume any more of his time at the moment. He motioned to his friend, Keith McKinnon, to watch Sheona. When he turned back, she hadn’t even looked up. Her defeated posture disturbed him a bit too much.

Over the next two hours, Malcolm and the others herded cattle into the fenced area and he assigned dozens of men to stay and guard them. If his father’s campaign to attack Dunvegan had gone as planned, there would far fewer in Rory MacLeod’s army to come seeking the animals and so over the coming days, the various tenants who needed winter meat would be able to come and take from this bounty.

By the time he returned to the tree to which Sheona was tied, he was exhausted and in need of sleep. Unfortunately, it would be hours yet before he could lay his head down even for a moment. Laughter caught him off guard as he approached.

“Aye, Keith, ’tis true. He threw the whole lot back into the sea for the seals to eat.”

Keith tipped his head back and laughed hard which made her laugh harder. A twinge of jealousy surprised him that his friend could make her laugh. How foolish. He barely knew the lass, why should he care who made her laugh?

“I see our prisoner fares well.”

As soon as she realized he was there, she stopped laughing and instead frowned. This did not please him at all. He’d done nothing to harm her; why should she be so free with Keith and scowl at him?

“Aye, that she does, my friend. A fine sense of humour she has, at that.” Keith turned back to her. “What’s this? Your smiles have disappeared upon our Malcolm’s approach?” He turned to Malcolm. “What have you done to the poor lass? She appears to not like you.”

“Enough, Keith.” Malcolm did not want his friend playing with words or making her impression of him any blacker than it was. “Do you wish to eat lass, and perhaps find a private place to see to your needs?”

Her face grew bright red at the mention of her privacy. God’s teeth, he hadn’t meant to bring her shame.

“I have seen to her comfort,” Keith said. “She is not in need of anything at the moment. Are you, Lady Sheona?”

“I am only in need of these ropes being removed from my aching wrists and the safety of my father’s home.”

“Well then, ’tis very disappointed you’ll be by my actions,” Malcolm said. “For you will keep those ropes on your wrists until you are secured at Knock Castle on the morrow and in the meantime…” He unfastened the rope from the tree. “You will be secured to me.”

Malcolm wrapped her rope around his waist and tied it to his belt. Like this, there was about five feet of space allowed between them with the rope pulled taut. With one last look at Keith and Sheona’s shocked faces, he turned and walked to his horse, noting the extra resistance behind him all the way.