Free Captured by the Highlander by Julianne MacLean Page A

tree, Duncan faced her.
    “There is no clear way to put into words the fury that consumes Angus. It’s a fury that consumes us all , and you’re just not capable of understanding.”
    She recal l ed the passionate fury that had swept through her when he entered her bedchamber. “Maybe you underestimate me.”
    “Nay, lass. You’re an innocent. You’d have to enter hell on your own two feet before you could ever truly know of what I speak.”
    She saw something dark and disturbing in his eyes and frowned. “I am not sure I want to hear any more.”
    “Then stop asking questions. You know too much as it is.”
    He strode toward her, took hold of her arm, and led her impatiently to the horse. “Do you want me to toss you up again, or can you do it yourself?”
    “I can do it myself,” she replied, no longer wishing to argue with him, at least not now, when he was so very cross and she was reeling with confusion over what had just occurred between them.
    Nor could she purge from her mind what had happened to Angus’s sister. She could not bear to think of that young woman’s suffering.
    At least now Amelia understood why Duncan and Angus both hated Richard so much. Their motivations to wreak havoc on the English were deeply rooted.
    She mounted the horse, and Duncan swung up behind her. Soon they were trotting out of the clearing, heading north.
    “Don’t talk anymore,” he said. “Just keep your mouth shut, because my patience with your questions is running short, and if you bring any of it up again, I ’ll be tempted to stuff another gag in your mouth.”
    Amelia shuddered at the firmness of his command.
    The others had already left the glade. They had vanished into the trees like swirls of phantom mist, and Amelia was beginning to feel like a ghost herself. She felt as if she were disappearing into a world and a life she did not truly understand.
    * * *
     
    They reached Glen Elchaig at dusk, just as the moon was beginning its rise. Stars twinkled overhead, and a wolf howled somewhere in the distance. The other Highlanders had reached the shelter of the glen before them and started a fire. Amelia inhaled the mouthwatering aroma of roasting meat and nearly leaped off the horse in anticipation of a hot meal.
    “Is that rabbit I smell ?” she asked, famished almost to the point of distraction, but not quite—for nothing could distract her from what had occurred in the glade earlier. She had not yet recovered from it.
    “Aye. Gawyn is a master chef when it comes to a quick dinner. He can sniff out anything, kill and skin it in less than a minute, and have it roasting on a spit before you can blink twice.”
    Duncan urged the horse into a gal op, and she felt the animal lift beneath her, as if they were taking flight. They rode into the camp and dismounted, and the first thing Amelia noticed was the stiffness in her legs from so many hours in the saddle. She could barely walk.
    Duncan tended to his horse while she approached the hot, roaring fire. Sparks snapped and flew upward toward the darkening sky while drops of grease from the roasting meat sizzled and hissed on the burning logs. She held her hands out to warm them.
    “Are you hungry, Lady Amelia?” Gawyn asked. It was the same question he had asked earlier, with the same proper address.
    “Yes, I am. It smell s very good.”
    He set about poking at the meat. He sniffed it like a dog might sniff the air, and she suspected his nose was as practiced as that of any famous French chef in Paris or London.
    Soon they were all crowded around the fire, gulping down the tasty meat and sipping full -bodied cups of wine. Amelia was relieved to have a cup, a plate, and a rock to sit upon.
    She was not squatting, as she’d imagined she would have to do. She was quite comfortable, in fact, despite her stiff muscles and numerous anxieties. She could not deny that the tender rabbit meat was the best thing she’d ever tasted.

    Duncan was the first to finish eating.