Free Highland Heat by Mary Wine

Captain?”
    Coalan chuckled as he mounted a larger horse and looked across at her. “Tell me, lady. Are ye going to behave, or shall I take the advice of Dirk there and bind yer hands to keep ye from running off into the night?”
    His arrogant grin informed her he didn’t think she could give him any worry even with her hands free. Her temper simmered, and she lifted her chin and clamped her lips shut, refusing to answer him. She was grateful it was still night, or the brute would have seen her temper glittering in her eyes.
    Coalan scoffed at her. “I’ve a mind to see Drumdeer before sunset, lads. Let’s take Laird Cameron what he wants.”
    The name Drumdeer sent fear through her. The castle was well-known, even if she’d never laid eyes upon it. It was built along a ridge, which was where it got its name of drum, which meant ridge in Gaelic. There were plenty of stories of how strong the castle was, and more than one army had learned that lesson through defeat. Once inside, she wouldn’t be leaving until Quinton Cameron said she might.
    Coalan reached across and took the reins from her fingers with a quick snap. “Do nae be giving me any cause to regret my choice to leave ye free, lady, for I tell ye I can be a mean bastard if ye come between me and what my laird expects of me. That’s a promise. I swear it.”
    The mare followed Coalan’s stallion, and the Highlander took to the night with every bit of skill Deirdre expected of any man she might call by that name. The English feared the Highlanders with good cause. Not every Scot was a Highlander, but Coalan was one. It was in the way he faced the night with confidence. The man wasn’t shivering as he guided them into the forest. There was no hint of unease many would have felt while challenging the shadows the old wives claimed were haunted with specters or demons.
    That was a Highlander for you. Deirdre felt it in her blood as well. She’d taken to the night to meet her lover with no more than a single prayer said to ensure her safe travel.
    She ducked her head low to prevent a branch from hitting her. The smell of the horse touched her nose, as did the scent of the earth being churned up by the hooves of the animals in front of them. Her hearing was keen, detecting every small sound while they made their way.
    In spite of it being a year ago, she recalled how she had challenged the night for what she wanted. Many called her too bold for her gender, but she was her father’s daughter. Fate had been cruel in making her female, for she felt every urge the Cameron retainers did. Deirdre clasped the mare between her thighs without any hesitation. She refused to believe it would make her sterile, and even if such were true, she would not perch herself on the side of the animal. That was a dangerous way to ride and robbed a girl of the ability to hold tight to the horse she rode. Every Cameron retainer was at ease in the saddle, and she refused to behave any differently.
    Yet she was a woman among them.
    And they believed she was English too.
    Deirdre smiled and fought the urge to laugh. It amused her to discover herself once more in the position of being shunned by those she was so close to. After enduring it at the abbey, she was well accustomed to the feeling. She noticed several cutting glances from the other Cameron retainers as the night went on, but it wasn’t until dawn that she truly confirmed her suspicions about her place among them. With light washing over them, their distrust could be seen very clearly.
    Coalan finally raised his hand, calling a halt to their progress. Deirdre slid from the back of her mare gratefully. There had been no horses at the abbey, and she was sore now, because riding was something that toughened the body. Her back ached, and so did her tender parts.
    Something she would delight in blaming Quinton Cameron for, and that was a promise.
    She stomped her feet against the ground to restore circulation in her toes. But the