Chapter Two
Skye’s heart had clenched at the thick, all-too-familiar Highland burr of the man who’d jumped into the back of the wagon.
Nae. It couldn’t be—the terror of being abducted by strangers was merely playing tricks on her.
A broad-shouldered man leaned closer, and she let go of the breath she held, because she didn’t recognize the form. These shoulders were much wider and the girth was almost twice what she remembered from the man of her youth. Hoping to hide, she sank back into the depths of the cart, her entire body stiffening and her heart pounding in her chest.
But then he reached for her, and a beam of moonlight hit his face. The intruder gave her the smile that had once brought her to her knees, the one she had spent her whole childhood trying to put on his face. Now, the sight only brought her pain.
She had spent the last five years of her life trying to forget that smile, trying to shake the memory of him, trying to become a whole person again. With that one cocksure smirk, he had just shredded all of her efforts, and damn him, she wanted to reach out and feel that he was real, that this was not one of those dreams she would wake from and find him gone, leaving her alone yet again.
Many times, he’d visited her at night in her fantasies, saving her from imaginary foes and then professing his undying love, promising to never leave her side again. In the delirious haze of sleep, she always forgave him, but this didn’t feel like a dream.
I’m an imbecile.
She had to remember she hated this man. He’d promised her the moon, made her dare to believe they could have the perfect life together. A home, a family, and love.
Then he had taken it all away. He had carelessly tossed her aside and left her with a gaping hole, a void that could never be filled. She had given her heart to him, and he had trampled all over it.
Her disloyal body wouldn’t listen to the warning. The delight at finding herself in his arms scared her, and she cursed herself for still wanting him. Relief invaded her as he heaved her from his shoulder then tossed her on a horse.
Splayed across the horse’s back, she teetered and almost lost her balance, until he climbed on behind her. Easily flipping her, he pulled her to sit then drew her back into his chest.
Damn, why were chills spreading down her spine?
He was everything she’d needed and the one thing she could never allow herself again. She still remembered every curve and sharp angle of his taut stomach and muscular arms, and the dimples of the special smile she’d once thought had been only for her—the one it seemed he now gave every lass who crossed his path.
Och, I was a fool.
How naive she had been to fall for such a heartless rake.
She would get out of this and would not allow him to break her heart again.
First, she had to figure out how she had come to be here—bound, on a horse speeding away from Stirling Castle, with Brodie Cameron holding her tight. Anxious over her future, she had fled the hall for a breath of air after an introduction to her newly betrothed, only to have two brutes grab, tie, and drag her away.
What if her abductors were Covenanters? Her uncle, Alastair MacDonald, laird to the MacDonalds would sacrifice her if the dastards intended to use her to force his clan to submit to the Covenants of the Scottish Presbyterians and turn away from King Charles and their Catholic faith.
She thought she’d been afraid of the men who had taken her, but that was before she had heard Brodie’s steady purring tenor. Now, she was petrified. She’d almost rather take her chances with the others. Surely, they were less clever than Brodie, and she’d have had a much greater chance of escape.
This man who sat so calmly behind her would do much worse damage. He hadn’t even realized who she was. The bastard. That was how much she had meant to him—he no longer even remembered her. She was going to claw his eyes out as soon as she could get her hands on him.
Wrists raw from the ropes, her arms ached, and the gag had pulled all the moisture from her mouth.
Why had Brodie taken her from the kidnappers? What could he possibly want with her, and why had he not untied her? What if he was in league with the kidnappers? Or did he have something else in mind? In this charged political atmosphere, with raids and murders on the rise and tensions mounting as clans took sides, it was hard to know who was friend and who was foe.
…
“Stop yer fidgeting, lass,” Brodie ordered.
Her hands remained bound behind her back, and they were currently brushing against his cock as she struggled to free them. It made him want things he did not have time for.
Dark trees sped by as he kept the hurried pace he’d set. If he could be sure Neil wasn’t right behind them, he would spare the time to stop and untie her, but with the scant light, he had to stay to the main road. The angry beast he’d thrown from the cart could be upon them at any moment.
The squirming lass threw her head back, the movement catching him off guard and sending stinging barbs through his chest. She had a hard head. She should be grateful for his interference in whatever Ross had planned for her, yet here she was, fighting him.
She flung herself back again, this time with more force.
“Stop, woman,” he ground out.
She harrumphed through the gag. Then, she sat straighter and pulled away from him. He heard her take a deep breath just before she drove her hands down between his legs. The pain crippled him, and he fell onto her, sandwiching her between his body and the horse’s neck. Luckily, he was somehow able to stay on his steed’s back.
He must have cut off her air, because when he finally regained his composure and sat up, she started a rapid inhaling. Served her right.
It did seem to be time to have a talk with her, as they had been traveling for a couple hours, and there had been no sight of Neil. Pulling on the reins, he eased the horse to a stop.
“Ye didnae have to do that,” he said as he shook his head. The throbbing ache still assailed him. Getting off the horse and walking it out seemed like a good idea.
After dismounting, he regretted losing the warmth of her body. He pulled her down, set her on her feet, and came around to her back. She tried to follow his movements, but he reached out with one hand and held her still. With the other, he retrieved the dirk he had hidden at his side then brought it up to saw at her bindings.
A small whimper escaped from her still-gagged mouth. He loosened his grip and was careful not to pull the bindings too tight while he cut her free.
Her arms fell limply to her sides, and she slowly pulled them up and started to shake them furiously in front of her. Brodie reached up to untie her gag, but her hair had become tangled in the rag, and he had to pull at the long strands to free the cloth. As it loosened, he ran his hand down her hair, fisting a handful and bringing it to his nose.
He inhaled. The smell was like a punch to his gut as he again recalled the lass who had haunted his dreams.
She turned on her heel and slapped him.
“Ye arsehole.”
It didn’t hurt all that much, but he was stunned. Staring at the wee lass who had just hit and cursed at him, he absently rubbed at his jaw. Unfortunately, his vision was still blurred, so he could not make out her features. She was shaking her hand as if she’d hurt herself more than him.
“Ye dinnae even ken who I am. Do ye?” the lass continued as she poked her finger into his chest as if she weren’t almost half his size. The wee woman had a temper. “Take me back to my uncle right now, Brodie Cameron, before I castrate ye.”
Hell, she knew him. Who the devil was she? He grabbed her shoulders before she could lash out again. Holding her and squinting with his throbbing eye, he scrutinized her face. It was dark, but recognition flared.
It couldn’t be.
Blond hair glistened in the moonlight. Her pale skin glowed, but it was too dark to see the startling green gaze.
“Skye?”
Even in the inadequate light, he saw her chin tilt upwards. “Dinnae tell me ye forgot me so easily.”
It had been five years, but his body had known he held the only woman he’d ever wanted. The pain of her rejection came rushing to the surface, and he released her, backing as if burned. Hell, he had work to do, and she was the last complication he needed.
Stepping forward, she slapped him again. It still didn’t hurt, but he rubbed the spot where her fingers had touched him.
“Why am I here?” She stamped her foot on the ground.
“What do ye mean?”
“Why am I no’ at Stirling?” She stood, legs apart, hands fisted on her hips, foot still tapping.
“I dinnae ken yer question. I pulled ye from the back of Ross’s wagon.”
“Why was I in the wagon?”
He shook his head. “I dinnae ken.”
“Then why were ye there to take me out?” The moon provided just enough light for him to see her eyes narrow on him.
“I am no’ prepared to explain that. Why did Ross abduct ye?”
There had been a time when he could tell her everything, but she’d been gone so long he didn’t know her anymore. Her uncle’s clan were Royalists, or at least they were supposed to be; he’d spent years trying to determine if they were loyal to the king and his clan’s religion. Even if he could trust her, though, he and his laird had decided to tell only a small few of his true assignment.
Hell, she would probably be safer if he took her back to Stirling now. But what if she could finally put to rest the questions he still had about her uncle? If he kept her close, she might reveal the MacDonald’s secrets. And she might be his only link to discovering the truth of Ross’s political sympathies. Either Ross or her uncle must be the traitor he’d been trying to unmask.
“I have no idea. I dinnae even ken who Ross is.” She started pacing, shaking her arms out again. His gaze followed her, taking in the full curves of a woman—she’d grown without him. He wished he could see if her eyes were still the same shade of emerald, if they sparked as they once had when she’d defended him from his brothers, only now with anger at him.
Skye continued, “I did hear them say something about trading me to my uncle for something they wanted.” She fisted her hands on hips that had widened only slightly but made her waist look smaller than it had at sixteen summers. “I need to get back. My uncle willnae ken what has happened to me.”
“We cannae go back. They will be looking for ye.” Aye, she was a complication he didn’t need, but he was well and truly immune to her, so he’d have no trouble spending time with Skye until he got what he needed. And he knew all her weaknesses; surely he could charm the information out of her then return her to her uncle. She was a sore part of his past—and there was no place for her in his future.
“Well, I cannae stay here with ye.”
Och, she still had a stubborn streak, but at one time, she’d trusted him. “Ye can and ye will.”
Skye could be the key to keeping his clan safe.
“Ye are a treacherous rogue.” She pointed her finger at him. “I wouldnae stay with ye if ye were the last man on earth.” She stepped forward, invading his space, but he stood his ground. “Ye used me and tossed me aside.”
What the hell was she talking about? The words cut the place inside he’d blocked off and thought long dead. Returning Skye to Stirling and forgetting he’d seen her would be the easiest thing he could do, but if he could pry the answers he needed from her, he could move on to his next mission.
“Take me back to my uncle.”
Lacing the words with authority, he brought his gaze to hers. “Ye will stay with me until I ken ye are safe.”
Aye, he would keep her close until he discovered why the MacLeans were after her and whether her uncle could be trusted. It was now his duty to deliver Skye safely to the MacDonald clan and to keep peace with them, but only if their laird truly was loyal to their cause. If not, he would deposit Skye with the Cameron laird and let him decide what to do with her.