Free My Highland Love: Highland Lords Series by Tarah Scott Page A

and slammed a fist down onto her captor's chest.
    "Cease," he growled. "Fighting will do ye no
good."
    She yielded, too spent to do anything else.
He strode to a cluster of medium-sized rocks, then set her down
against the rocks and returned to his horse. Rory approached,
horse's reins in hand. Elise tensed. Their gazes remained locked
until he disappeared from view behind her. Another man followed,
then the next and the next, and she realized the horses were being
tethered near where she lay.
    Her keeper approached carrying a tartan and a
small pouch. He stopped beside her, shook out the tartan, and
squatted, settling the blanket over her. He regarded her. "We left
MacGregor land long ago. You are in Campbell territory and wouldn't
have a chance in hell in these hills. You cannot see, but 'tis
barren country. Nothing for miles."
    "Why—" she stopped, seeing the implacable set
of his jaw.
    He reached into the pouch and produced a
biscuit. He handed it to her. Elise took the food and watched him
stride to where his comrades sat huddled on smaller rocks. She
looked at the biscuit, then sniffed it. To her surprise, she
detected no mold. A small nibble and her stomach rumbled. She
pulled her knees up and reached for her foot. She unlaced one boot,
took it off, then did the same with the other. She arranged the
boots beside her and took another bite of the biscuit, while edging
herself into a more prone position. She took another, larger
bite.
    "We should bind her hands." Rory's voice
abruptly broke the silence.
    "Touch her and I'll kill you," her captor
said through a mouthful of food.
    A pause followed, and Elise shivered as much
from the threat as the cold. She pulled the tartan up over her
shoulders, closing her eyes.
    "You wouldn't be wanting her for yourself,
would you, William?" Rory demanded.
    "She isn't yours, Rory."
    "What if she escapes?"
    "She was knocked half senseless," William
replied. "She couldn't manage it."
    "I know women who could," Rory retorted.
    "She wouldn't know which way was home."
William paused. "She's asleep."
    "Easy pickings," Rory commented.
    Grunts of approval from the men sitting in
the group sounded.
    "Mayhap not so easy." William shifted, the
sword strapped to his hip scraping against rock.
    Elise shrank beneath the tartan and ate the
last bit of biscuit. Finally, the men's voices quieted. A moment
later, she heard a nearby rustling. She peered past a corner of her
tartan and discerned the forms of men lowering themselves to the
ground. She recognized William, still sitting with his back to
her.
    A close snigger told her Rory was among the
men bedding down nearby. Her stomach wrenched. She glanced
heavenward. Dawn was no more than four hours away. MacGregor
territory lay southeast of Campbell land. They had ridden
approximately fifteen hours. She could reach Brahan Seer by
tomorrow afternoon. Marcus might not welcome her back, but she had
to make sure he knew who was responsible for Allister's death. She
thought of the wedding band sewed to the lining of her shift. She
had planned to go from Michael's to Glasgow and catch the first
ship away from Scotland. But Allister deserved recompense just as
much as Amelia and Steven.
    When snores at last told Elise the men had
fallen asleep, she crawled from beneath her blanket. The biscuit
had settled her stomach, but the trembling deep within
persisted.
    "Where are ye going?"
    She stopped at the sound of William's voice
and twisted to look over her shoulder. He still sat on the rock,
back to her.
    "I-I need a moment of privacy."
    "There are guards," he said.
    "What?"
    "Out there." He motioned with his head to the
blackness beyond their camp.
    Her blood chilled, but she forced her body
into motion and crawled around the rock.
    * * * *
    Marcus tensed at sight of a figure moving in
the shadows where the Campbell horses were tethered. "Did you
notice any of the guards returning to camp?" he demanded of
Michael, who squatted beside him on the hill from which