Reid didn’t buy the de Reymont lass’s demure act for a second. He saw the fire in her sea-green eyes even as she pretended to acquiesce to him.

Strange, then, that the lass would still be sleeping beside him, nigh unmoved after several hours on the forest floor.

Reid was a light sleeper—it was a necessary skill as a warrior. He’d had every confidence that even without tying Corinne to a nearby tree, he would wake immediately if she stirred or tried to slip away. Yet she must have been even more exhausted than he’d thought. In addition to her fatigue, he hadn’t missed the fact that her hands pained her. Mayhap she’d hurt them when she’d tried to flee the Englishmen’s camp.

A dozen questions tugged at him, but he pushed them aside. He didn’t need to get to know the lass in order to deliver her to the Bruce. The sooner he got this over with, the sooner he could return to the Highlands.

With that thought, he rose, folding the extra length of Mackenzie plaid. At the soft noises of his rising, his men awoke, just as practiced in light sleeping as he was. As they began saddling their horses, he crouched beside Corinne.

“Wake up, lass. It’s time to go.”

When she didn’t stir, he shook her shoulder. She murmured something, her creamy brow creasing but her eyes remaining closed.

A hank of her chin-length, bright red hair slid across her cheek and over her closed eyes. What in God’s name had led to the shearing of that wild, riotous hair, he wondered idly.

Pinching a lock between forefinger and thumb, he gave her hair a gentle tug. “Wake up, Corinne,” he repeated, giving her hair another wee pull for good measure.

She sat up suddenly, her tresses askew and her eyes wide. In annoyance, she huffed, blowing the offending locks out of her face. Then her eyes met his and she stilled. Comprehension filled their depths, with first distress and then that same determined glint he’d seen before flashing in them.

Repressing his curiosity, he rose and helped her to her feet by her elbow.

“We’ve a long way to go before nightfall,” he said curtly. “See to yer needs and return quickly.”

He watched her face closely, but he needn’t have. Her thoughts were written clearly on her delicate features. Her gaze drew distant as she considered, and her lips parted slightly on a breath.

She thought this was her chance to escape, no doubt. She was rested, had at least a few oatcakes in her belly, and was still on English soil.

He could practically see the calculations she made in her head as she nodded slowly and turned away from him, presumably to tend to her needs and return, as he’d ordered.

Of course, he could have stopped her there. He could have gripped her arm and spun her around, thrown her over his shoulder and onto his horse’s back once more. But he’d learned after twelve years as the leader of his clan that oftentimes a lesson experienced was far more effective than a lesson merely told.

“I may be a few minutes,” she said over her shoulder, blushing fiercely.

Reid nodded and watched her disappear into the dense woods. He turned and strode to his men, who had already mounted and were awaiting his orders.

“This will take but a moment,” he said.

“Are ye sure, Laird?” old Hamond said, pointing at something over Reid’s shoulder. “The wee lassie already has a head start on ye.”

With a sigh, Reid turned to find a thatch of wild orange hair darting away through the trees. He mounted his horse with a grunt, then called “Wait here,” over his shoulder as he urged the animal after the fleeing lass.

In mere moments, he was only a few strides behind her. She dared a glance over her shoulder, her eyes round. Abruptly, she changed course, making a hard right turn around a large pine tree.

Reid tried to rein his horse after her, but the turn was too tight, and he overshot the tree, his horse neighing his objection as he came to a halt. The lass was clever, Reid would give her that. Yanking the horse to the right, he spurred the animal after her once more.

Even in the thick forest, he gained ground on her, for his steed was sure-footed and trained to maneuver in tight quarters. The lass darted left, but this time Reid gave her enough of a lead to cut the corner off her turn, gaining yet more ground.

She turned again, and up ahead Reid saw that she meant to cross the rushing, rocky creek they’d camped beside, but higher upstream. He muttered a curse. He wouldn’t drive his horse across an uneven creek bed, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t pursue her on foot. He’d be damned if he let a wee English chit best him.

Without hesitation, she launched herself into the creek, the surging water instantly snatching the hem of her skirts and cloak, tugging them downstream. Reid reined in his horse and leapt down, charging after her. He reached the water just as she got to the halfway point. She was only a few arm’s lengths away now.

Seeing how close he was, she sprang toward the opposite bank, but her foot must have slipped on a rock underwater. She lurched sideways with a shriek, then crumpled into the stream, her skirts and cloak billowing as she went.

Some rational part of Reid’s mind knew that the water was shallow, and that there was no danger of the lass drowning or being swept away. But logic vanished in that moment. Instinct—and fear—took over.

He dove forward, snatching her up before she toppled completely underwater. Scooping her into his arms, he carried her back toward the water’s edge. With the stream swirling ferociously around his knees, he picked his footing carefully until he reached solid ground.

He set her down unceremoniously on the hard-packed ground, crouching in front of her. Before she had time to regain her wits and attempt to flee once more, he imprisoned her wrists in his hands.

Breathing hard, she lifted her gaze and stared at him defiantly, her eyes burning.

“Yield,” he commanded, returning her hard stare.

“Nay!” she shot back. She tossed her head so that her short-cropped tresses were flung out of her eyes.

Reid ground his teeth for a moment, willing forth some of the calm, rational demeanor he’d had to master as Laird. “Lass,” he said, forcing his voice to be even. “Ye willnae defeat me in this. I am stronger than ye. I am bigger than ye. And I willnae fail in my mission to deliver ye to my King. Yield, and save yerself further embarrassment and pain.”

Corinne’s blue-green eyes grew bright. It took Reid a moment to realize that it was from the shimmer of angry tears.

“You are…you are a monster,” she choked out. “Just like all the rest.”

Shite. Reid was an arse. In less than a day, the lass had proven herself brave and determined. Aye, it was his job to deliver her to the Bruce, but that didn’t mean he had to break her spirit while doing so.

He let a long breath go.  He didn’t like playing the role of barbarian. He was a hard man, aye, and expected his orders to be followed. Yet Laird Murdoch Mackenzie and Reid’s mother hadn’t raised him to be a bully, to force others into submission just because he physically could.

“Ye are truly determined to return to yer fiancé, arenae ye?” he muttered.

“Nay,” she blurted.

Caught off-guard, Reid sharpened his gaze on her. Color seeped into her cheeks, but she met his eyes unflinchingly.

Reid chewed on that for a moment. The lass fought against him tooth and nail, yet she wasn’t fighting to reach her fiancé?

“Ye wish to return home, then, is that it? To yer family?”

“Nay,” she repeated, her eyes turning hard. “I was already plotting my own escape when your men attacked.”

Reid thought back to the night before. He’d assumed that the lass had merely fled when they’d attacked, wisely deducing that it would be safer to hide in the woods than wait for his men to find her. But had she actually been caught in the middle of executing her own getaway? Reid’s attack must have thwarted her plans—and mayhap if he’d struck an hour later, he never would have found her at all.

He barely managed to suppress a rueful snort. Leave it to this bold, fiery-haired Englishwoman to take matters into her own hands.

But where was she so desperate to go? And why did her eyes light with hateful fire at the mention of both her family and her fiancé?

Reid grudgingly set the questions aside. He could indulge his curiosity some other time. Right now, his men—and the King himself—were waiting on Reid to get this lass to Lochmaben.

Slowly, he released her wrists, eyeing her to ensure she didn’t attempt to break away once more. When she remained seated on her soggy skirts, he said, “I was telling ye the truth when I said that I dinnae ken what the Bruce intends to do with ye. All I ken is that he wishes to stop this marriage alliance from going forward. It seems as though ye want the same thing.”

Her fierce gaze faltered. “What are you getting at?”

Reid lifted one shoulder in a casual shrug. “Once the Bruce is satisfied that de Reymont and de Perroy cannae ally against him, he’ll have no more need of ye. I imagine he’ll let ye go to wherever it was ye were planning on escaping to.”

It wasn’t a lie, exactly, for Reid had no notion of what the Bruce intended to do with the lass once she was at his camp. The logic of Reid’s assessment was sound, though in truth, Reid couldn’t claim to understand all of the Bruce’s moves and countermoves. No doubt the King was already scheming several steps ahead, and the lass was just one small cog in his plans.

She pulled her lower lip between her teeth, working it as she considered. Unbidden, Reid’s eyes dropped to her lush mouth. He tore his gaze away, pretending to scan their surroundings. All was calm and quiet except for the stream’s merry gurgle behind them. In fact, the only thing amiss was the sudden knot in Reid’s stomach at the sight of Corinne’s moistened, plump lip.

Damn it all, he needed to concentrate. Sensing she was close to capitulating, he spoke gently. “As I said before, ye can fight me every step of the way, but ye willnae win. Or ye can come with me to the King, and mayhap get what ye want in the end.”

At last she seemed to make a decision. She lifted her chin, meeting his eyes. “I will have what I am after,” she said.

Reid almost asked what could inspire such fierce determination in her, but he clamped his teeth down on the question before it slipped out.

“Verra well,” he said, rising. “No more of these mad flights, then.” He extended a hand to help her stand.

Without taking his hand, she dragged herself to her feet. She was only wet up to her waist, but her waterlogged cloak and skirts had to be heavy. Her gloved hands were wet as well. She kept them hanging awkwardly by her sides like wooden blocks. “Then don’t give me reason to flee.”

The boldness of the wee chit nearly made Reid chuckle. “I willnae,” he said instead.

Taking her elbow, he guided her back to his patiently waiting horse. He took up the reins, but instead of mounting, he walked with Corinne back to his men.

As they reached the others, he turned to her. “Take off yer cloak so that it can dry.”

To his surprise, she did as he said, though her hands fumbled with the tie at her neck. He passed the sodden cloak to one of his men, who draped it behind his saddle.

Alain held up a spare length of plaid, drawing Reid to his side.

“So, have ye subdued the wee hellion, then?” Alain asked.

Reid took the plaid and gave Alain a hard look. “I believe we’ve reached an… understanding.”

Alain chuckled. “Whatever ye say, Laird. I’ll just be glad to be rid of the English chit.”

As Reid approached Corinne, part of him had to agree with Alain. The lass had caused a great deal of trouble in less than a day. When he slung the plaid around her, Reid’s shoulder pinched with a faint twinge of pain where she’d bitten him. He’d had to chase her down twice now. And to add insult to it all, his boots squelched with creek water.

Still, as he lifted her onto his horse and mounted behind her, he could not deny his fascination with the lass. She wasn’t at all what he’d been expecting when the Bruce had told him he was to fetch an English nobleman’s daughter. He’d assumed she would be pampered, delicate, and easily cowed in the face of a band of Highland warriors.

Instead, he’d been saddled with a stubborn, willful wee scrap of a lass whose hair matched her fiery spirit.

He nudged his horse into motion, pulling her close with an arm around her narrow waist. Her bottom fit snugly against his groin, and a tendril of her wild hair tickled his nose with its faint lemon scent.

Despite the crisp edge to the autumn air, warmth surged in Reid’s veins.

Aye, this was not at all what he’d expected.