Free Judith E French by Highland Moon

travel. Since then, the black stallion had carried them both, and if he felt the strain of the added weight, he’d given no sign of it.
    “Don’t tell me what I know or don’t know,” she responded. “You don’t know me. And your being poor is no excuse to turn to crime.” Unconsciously, she stiffened her body and leaned as far away from him as possible. “You’ve ruined me, you know. I’ll be the talk of London. I’ll be lucky if any suitable man will have me now that my reputation is in shreds.”
    “Aye,” he agreed solemnly, “I can see where that would be a problem. Some dirty-minded creatures might think that you and I—”
    “Exactly. Who wouldn’t think that? A day, a night, perhaps, but weeks alone with a madman? Even reasonable people would have cause to gossip. I’ll never be able to appear in public without my ordeal being mentioned.”
    “You must take part of the blame, lass. ’Twas you who told me that you were an heiress.”
    “You knew that I was a marchioness. What did you think? Did you suppose I was a butcher’s daughter?”
    “I thought you were Sutherland’s woman.”
    “But you were wrong, weren’t you?”
    “Must ye harp on the one thing I’ve done wrong?”
    “One thing? One thing? I can—”
    “Hist, hist, mistress. Ye chatter on like an angry jay. You might have a little compassion for me, stuck with such a harridan for all these weeks. There are women who would have been kinder to me.”
    “Of certain,” she cried. “Common strumpets—jades.”
    “Your constant talking makes my ears ache.”
    “Liar! I’ve not spoken to you for hours.”
    “It didn’t seem that long to me.”
    “Very well, I shall be quiet . . . if you tell me where you are taking me.”
    Ross rolled his eyes heavenward. “For peace, I will do anything. I’m taking you to Castle Strathmar.”
    “Why? What’s there? Will you send to my family for ransom from there? I don’t—”
    He lifted one wide palm in front of her mouth. “Silence I was promised, and silence I will have, one way or the other,” he threatened.
    Infuriated, Anne halted in midsentence and gritted her teeth to keep from saying something no lady should say. The arrogance of the man! Her breath came in strangled gulps and her head pounded as she tried to hold her temper.
    Her earlier concern for his safety was wasted pity, she decided. Ross Campbell was a common outlaw and a kidnapper, and when Murrane’s mercenaries caught up with him, he’d get no more than he deserved.
    The horse’s long legs covered mile after mile, and Anne rode in silence mile after mile, her resentment growing with each step. Images of castle dungeons formed in her mind. She had heard tales of women locked away for years in total darkness. The Highlands were known for cold and damp. What if she took ill? What if she wasted away in some rat-infested cell?
    By the time Ross stopped to water the horse and give her time to tend to her personal needs, Anne was half in shock with fear. He swung down off the saddle and put his hands around her waist to lift her down, then paused when he saw her pale features.
    “What’s wrong, hinney?” he asked. “Ye look as though you’ve seen a ghost.”
    Anne opened her mouth to speak, then clamped it shut. To her shame, two fat tears rolled down her cheeks. Her lower lip trembled, and she sniffed, wiping away the tears with the back of her hand. “ I . . . I spent . . . five months,” she managed, “five months locked in a tower room. I don’t want to go in a dungeon. I hate rats.”
    Ross looked stunned. “What?”
    She sniffed loudly. “Rats, I hate them.”
    “I can’t promise you the castle doesn’t have rats, but no one’s going to lock you up,” he promised. He helped her dismount and led her to a rock. “Sit,” he ordered. “Now, what’s all this about a tower?”
    She looked up into his dark eyes. They seemed opaque, giving no hint of what he was thinking. She straightened her