Free To Avenge Her Highland Warrior (Highland Fae Chronicles Book 3) by Samantha Holt Page B

thin.
    “My lady!” she declared, when her gaze fell on Lorna.
    “Good day, Eleanor. Are ye unwell?”
    “Nay, my lady, just a wee bit tired.” Her distraction did not last, her gaze fell fearfully on Logan. “If yer here about the taxes...”
    Logan held up a hand. “The villagers have made arrangements, dinnae fear.”
    “They have? But Gordon didnae say—”
    “I spoke with him and ye dinnae need to worry. I wished to stop by to make that clear.”
    Eleanor nodded and even in the gloom of the hut, he saw her eyes mist. “Thank ye, sir. May the Lord bless ye.”
    He nodded stiffly, an uncomfortable sensation in his chest and spun on his heel. Once more, Lorna scurried behind him and his regret that he brought her doubled. What had he been thinking bringing this inquisitive woman with him?
    Untying the reins of the horse, he stowed the coin in the saddlebag and went to aid Lorna on but she pushed his hands away.
    “Why did ye do that?”
    “Do what?”
    “Help her. The chief didnae pay her taxes, ye know that well enough.”
    He lifted a shoulder, the unpleasant tightness in his chest increasing. He did not need this woman questioning his every action. “I didnae see the need in creating more work for the laird,” he said coolly.
    “And how shall ye explain the lack of payment?” Lorna gripped his arm and her fingers practically singed through his shirt.
    He glanced down at her hand and back up to her eyes. Hope shone bright in them, and he groaned inwardly. Did she think because he showed the tiniest bit of charity, he might take pity on her?
    “I shallnae have to explain it,” was all he said in response. Before she could argue, he clamped his hands around her waist and lifted her onto the horse. It was either flail and fall or grip the saddle and climb on, so she did.
    Once he was mounted behind her, she eased into his chest a little and he tightened his muscles.
    “Ye intend to pay it yerself, do ye not?” she asked smugly.
    Raising his gaze to the heavens and begging for a respite from this frustrating lass, he ignored her comment—and the accuracy of it—and prodded the horse to begin their journey back to the castle. The sooner he had her out of his arms and locked away, safe and sound, the better.
    ***
    Excitement buzzed through Lorna’s veins, making her fidgety. Her arm ached where more bruises were likely coming up from his rough handling of her—visible proof of his change in character—yet she did not regret being dragged along. For one, she got to speak with several of the villagers whom she had not seen since she had escaped the castle and secondly, Logan’s charitable act renewed her hope that she might just reach the man he used to be.
    The men she had spoken to had all expressed dismay in Logan’s vicious temperament. Many were scared of him and had never had the courage to speak up. It seemed most believed that when she left, it broke him. Was it possible she contributed to the loss of his memory? Surely it was more likely a strike to the head that had done it. She had heard of such occurrences but never such long term memory loss.
    The temptation to beg them to help her—to hide her or try to convince Logan of the truth had been strong—but seeing the poverty stricken state of the settlement had prevented her from asking such liberties. If she hid out in the village or it became known they had aided her, Gillean would surely wreak revenge upon them.
    Drawing in a breath, she pondered the rugged horizon. Should she try to make an escape now? And how? Logan pushed the horse hard and his grip around her was firm. She doubted she had any chance of escaping him.
    She wriggled again and heard him grunt. When she shifted back, she became aware of his hard body flush against hers, his strong thighs framing her. While their night together had been brief, she was thoroughly aware of the muscled body beneath the plaid. Many times during the years together, she had seen him shirtless.