Free If You Dare by Kresley Cole

crew.
    â€œCourt!” exclaimed Gavin MacKriel, the oldest of their band. “By God, it’s good to see you.”
    When the man took his shoulders, Court frowned and slapped him on the back with his better hand, then again until Gavin released him and moved on.
    MacTiernay, the one-eyed giant, looked him up and down, then punched him in the upper chest in greeting before walking past.
    Court stared after him. That was more emotion than MacTiernay had ever demonstrated. Then Niall, his cousin, slapped him on the back, and Liam, the youngest, was about to as well until Court gave him a look of warning. The last inside, Fergus, who’d earned the nickname The Sleeping Scot, actually looked awake and glad to see him.
    He showed them in and then on into the parlor. As if he owned the place. “Where are the rest?”
    Liam had already nabbed a pear from a fruit-laden bowl in the foyer. At nineteen he was still growing and could eat double his weight in food every day. He took a bite and said between chews, “They have been searching for a body for your kin to bury.”
    â€œI appreciate the sentiment.” Court took a seat at the main table, feeling weak from their greetings. Nothing like Highlanders striking you to get your mind off a woman. “You were that sure I was dead?”
    â€œWe followed your pair of Rechazados,” Fergus answered as he eased himself into a seat, “then persuaded them to partake in one last conversation. They told us they’d killed you.”
    â€œThat was the plan. You took out two? We’re at forty-seven, then?”
    â€œForty-seven and counting,” Gavin said. “I hope you told them we were coming to kill them.”
    â€œAye, I did. It dinna have the effect I was hoping for, but satisfies now.”
    Niall stood to survey a wine sideboard. “After we got your message, I sent the rest of the crew to the smuggler’s lodge to wait for us.”
    Niall was to take over their band if anything happened to him, and Court nodded his approval at Niall’s decision. They’d stumbled upon the isolated lodge while exploring the back passes along the border with France. It was filled with long-abandoned luxuries, dust-covered crates packed with silver, porcelain, and crystal that some smuggler had never made it back for.
    â€œAnd I brought your gear,” Niall added. “You doona look like you’re hurting for clothes, but I bet you miss your weapons.”
    â€œYou’ve no idea.” When he’d heard riders coming, he hadn’t known if he’d finally brought Pascal’s men down upon this place. He hadn’t known how he’d protect her from them.
    â€œSo whose home is this?” Niall asked.
    â€œAn Andorran lass’s.” Court wondered if they could see he was thrown. No battle, no violence had ever made him off balance like this.
    Niall gave him a razor-sharp look. “She’s bonny?” Yes, Niall could see.
    â€œAye,” he admitted. Moments ago, that beautiful woman had sunk her fingers into his muscles to get closer to him. He’d thought her reaction was real and reveled in it, but if she was willing to manipulate him . . . He caught them regarding him quizzically. “She found me half dead by the river and dragged me back here. No men around, so I’ve just been lingering on.”
    â€œDragged you? So she’s a big, bonny Andorran?”
    â€œShe and her horse dragged me. No, she’s just a wee thing. You should see her—a good gust would send her reeling.” Court noticed Niall studying him and changed the subject. “Have you heard any news?”
    Niall removed a bottle of wine and whistled at the label before saying, “We heard word that Spain might come for its deserters any day now. And if they doona, France will.”
    â€œIt’s about bloody time.” Court had been continually disgusted with the lack of action