Free Highland Surrender by Tracy Brogan Page A

half his men headed east. Within a mile, they picked up her trail. He sent one man to gather those heading north, and soon they were a party of ten once more. His anger, simmering since finding the nurse in his bed that morning, now scalded. His wife’s foolishness was beyond comprehension, her actions leading them straight into enemy lands. Pride stung like a nettle on his collar as they trailed bits of fabric, broken branches, and footprints in the soft forest floor. His men knew him to be resourceful and wise, but his wife seemed hell-bent on making a fool of him. He’d not tolerate such disobedience, and when he found her, he’d make certain she understood as much.
    The girl had taken a circuitous route, either getting lost or perhaps trying to cover her way. She was clever enough to think of that, while he’d not been clever enough to realize the nurse had lied. He’d not make such a mistake again. Duplicitous Sinclairs.
    For the next few hours, they followed her trail, and as the sun tipped the crest of the mountains, they came upon a tiny shack. Myles knew deep in his gut she’d been there, and perhaps lingered still. He motioned for his men to approach silently.
    Tavish leaned in for a whisper. “Perhaps we should circle the place. She’s likely to slip into a rabbit hole if we’re not paying full attention.”
    “If she does, ’twill be you I send in after her.”
    “Best be a very large rabbit hole, in that case.” Tavish ran a thick hand over his belly.
    Myles halted his horse and slid from the saddle, landing on the ground with practiced ease. He reached for his dagger, remembering then that the little wench had swiped it. Not a thief, indeed!
    “Give me your dirk, Tavish. If I need a blade, I cannot wield a sword in so small a dwelling.”
    Tavish had the nerve to look indignant. “Where’s your dirk?”
    Myles looked to the sky in a plea for patience. “Where do you think?”
    “Ah, she is a pesky little menace, that wife of yours. Here.” He handed him the dagger. “Please try to see that I get it back, would you?”
    “As surely as you make certain she doesn’t sneak off again in the night.”
    Tavish’s ruddy complexion took on a deeper hue. “’Twas a clever trick.”
    “Indeed.” Myles nodded once and made short work of getting to the door of the hut as his men circled it at a distance, still on their horses.
    He listened for a moment and heard nothing. Holding the dirk in one hand, he eased open the door with the other. And behold, there she was, asleep in the dirt. Filthy, bedraggled, her hair tangled in knots, breathing soft and innocent as a newborn babe.
    All day he’d stewed over this moment, and now he’d caught her. His hands itched with the need to throttle that slenderwhite neck. Lord knew she deserved it. But at the sight of her, an odd relief coursed through him. She was found, safe and whole. She had not perished in the forest, or worse, found sanctuary with the Frasers. But relief soon gave vent to his pent-up frustration.
    He bent low, gripping her shoulder and jostling her awake.
    She gasped in surprise, and before he knew what she was about, she swung her arm around and pain sliced at his leg.
    Curse the little hellion! She just slashed me with my own dagger!
    He flung himself against her body, pinning her between himself and the hard ground. Breath woofed from her lungs as he twisted one hand into that damnable red hair and caught her wrist with his other. He squeezed, making her gasp again, and his blade fell from her fingers onto the dirt.
    Ire and relief mingled. He wanted to pummel her. And shake her. And kiss her. The shocking combination disoriented his senses. She was a foe like no other, using guile against which he had no weapons.
    “You found me?”
    “You thought I wouldn’t?” He pulled her arms up over her head and pinned them with one hand as she grunted from his weight.
    “You should be halfway to Ludlow.” Her voice rasped for want of air