Sheona tried to focus on anything but the man behind her. An impossible feat with him pressed so against her backside. She couldn’t escape any part of him. Somehow in just one day, his very essence has crept its way inside her, leaving her senses on high alert. She was even enthralled watching his hands grip the reins and wondered what they would feel like on her body.

She shook her head and shifted her bottom. The movement didn’t help, but rather made her ever more aware of his hardness and the ache building in her.

If she did not focus on something else soon, she wasn’t sure what she was capable of. The man was a boor, but her body didn’t seem to care. Well away from the Black and Red Cullins, the landscape settled and they could ride faster. Before long Sheona saw Knock Castle in the distance. Not as large as Dunvegan, the castle was still imposing, sitting on a spit of land overlooking Loch Hourn.

Uneasiness worked its way into her heart, building like a tempest. For all her brave words, she feared what would happen to her inside those walls. Aunt Margaret had returned from this very castle abused and broken. She was nothing like the woman who had left the year earlier. What would become of Sheona at the clutches of the same men who had grossly mistreated her aunt?

MacDonald steered them down the winding path. She’d been mistaken. From a distance the castle hadn’t looked so big. Now before it, she viewed several buildings, all attached to the one large keep. The grey stone loomed gloomy and foreboding. When was the last time this place had seen joy?

“Welcome to your new home, Lady Sheona.”

“You will forgive me if I do not thank you for it.”

“You will. I promise you that.”

“I believe you presume too much, my lord. There is nothing here that will give me pleasure. Can you not at least untie me before we enter the keep?”

“You do not wish to be seen as a prisoner? The only other way I am willing to present you is as my wife, and I do not see a priest at the moment. The ropes stay.”

“You are a brute, MacDonald. And I hope you rot in my father’s dungeon when he makes you pay for what you’ve done.” She didn’t mean to sound like a spiteful child, but she wanted the ropes off and she wanted to be away from him.

“Ahhh, my love, such fire in you. You could stir a man to madness.”

“You are mad, if you think you will have my hand in marriage or any other part of me.” Talking to him was useless. She was grateful they had arrived at the inner courtyard and could dismount and put some distance between them.

MacDonald tossed the reins to the stable hand and led her inside the keep. He walked straight to the kitchen with her in tow. She’d never been so shamed in her life, being led along like a foul animal. His contempt of her station as a lady was appalling and she had to fight back the tears at the distasteful looks from the people they encountered along the way.

“Where is Abigayle?”

MacDonald had spoken to a man who looked like a seal on human legs. She could only assume the man was the main cook.

“She is in the back, m’lord. Shall I fetch her for you?”

“Tell her to bring a bath and clean linens to the blue room. We have a guest who requires comfort.”

Comfort? While she was still tied up? How could the man possibly be so confusing? She followed, because that was all she could do, when he left the kitchen and crossed the great hall. This time, she didn’t notice people staring at her; rather, she caught sight of the great tapestries hanging on the high stone walls. The vibrant colour was startling against the grey stone.

She stopped and stared and was jolted forward when MacDonald kept walking. He turned back to her with raised eyebrows.

“They’re stunning,” she said.

He looked up and around the hall with a smile. “Aye, that they are. You seem surprised that we have beautiful tapestries, Lady Sheona. Did you think we spent all our time fighting you?”

He turned back to the staircase and began to climb. Sheona followed, curious as to the rest of the castle. When they reached the second floor, he turned left and led her down a hallway and into a chamber that was indeed blue. From the coverlet to the draperies around the windows to the sash on the canopy, the entire room was decorated in a sea-blue.

MacDonald dropped the rope and worked to untie her wrists. She searched his expression. Why would he do that here and not below stairs? And why put a prisoner in a guest chamber?

“You confuse me, my lord.”

“Oh?”

“Aye. Why did you wait to remove my bindings until we were in private?”

“Because you will be with me and you cannot escape whilst I am with you, secure in a chamber. Outside that door, however, you will be bound each and every time until I am convinced you do not wish to flee.”

“Well then, you may as well leave them on, my lord. For I will always wish to flee. And I promise you the first opportunity I get, I will.”

He had the audacity to smile. Surely, he loved toying with her as though she were his toy. And damn him if he did not look more handsome each time he did so. She wished his scar scared her. Fear was an easier emotion to manage than the things he stirred.

A knock sounded at the door and he opened it, allowing two men to enter with a wooden tub. Several female servants followed carrying steaming water. As much as she hated to admit it, a bath would be heavenly after two days in the saddle. Her wrists were tender and sore and the heat would soothe away the ache.

“I see I have found something that will give you pleasure.” He leaned close to her ear. “I cannot wait to find out what else pleasures you, my lady.”

For a moment she’d forgotten about MacDonald while she eyed the bath—now he held her full attention again. His warm breath on her ear sent shivers down her body. She lowered her gaze to hide the colour that had no doubt crept into her cheeks, if the heat in them was any indication.

But he was relentless. “As much as I would love to stay and wash every inch of your bonnie curves, Lady Sheona, I must see to the preparations. Any moment, your father or mine will need to be dealt with and there are things which require my attention.” And because he was her worst tormentor, he added, “I beg you, imagine your hands are mine as you wash yourself.”

A moment later he was gone and she was left with her mouth agape, staring at the closed door. The maids bustled around her, removing her gown and helping her into the steaming water that smelled of rose hip. Sheona leaned back and inhaled the essence while the heat seeped into her weary bones.

She was exhausted and had not realized just how much until she lay back. A maid passed her a cloth and some soap, which she lathered over her skin. It too smelled of rose hip and she was becoming intoxicated with the scent. Just as she moved the cloth across her breasts, his words came back to torment her. She could not stop herself from imagining his hands caressing her breasts. She sat up abruptly, frightening one of the maids.

“My apologies. I wish to get out.”

“But my lady, you need to be rinsed,” the maid said.

“Very well then. Please be quick. I have had a long journey and I wish to rest.”

When the maids finished washing her body and her hair, they braided it and tucked her into a soft, down-filled bed with heavy quilts drawn up to her chin. When the bath was removed and the maids all gone, the only sound was that of the crackling fire. It lulled her toward slumber.

Sheona was too weary to contemplate the next day and what would become of her or the feud between the MacLeods and MacDonalds. Something told her a climax was building and none of them would ever be the same again.

Just before she fell asleep, she was certain she heard weeping.