Free Cowboys and Highlanders by Tarah Scott, KyAnn Waters

at the blur that had come into view on her right until the figure of a man riding came into focus. He stared unabashedly.
    Elise ignored the tremor his stare elicited and looked past him, skyward, where dim points of light showed through thin, grey clouds. She shifted again and found herself staring up at the jut of a square jaw. Above that, the bluish hue of moonbeams filtered through clouds. The pain relaxed to a dull throb and her stomach settled. The clouds parted and the moon blazed in her vision. She squeezed her eyes shut, but registered its position and estimated the time as just past midnight.
    "There's been no sign of MacGregor," her captor said.
    Marcus would have expected her to be at supper tonight. He might not notice her absence, but Allister's mother would notice his.
    "The horses need rest," the other man said. "They're spent."
    "We stop up ahead," the man who held her said. "Leave them saddled and tether them."
    A few minutes later, they halted. Elise's captor handed her down to the man who had stared at her. He pressed her close to his chest. The hand wrapped around her legs slipped beneath her skirt. She thrashed. Hot spikes of pain fingered out through her body. His hand rubbed her outer thigh. She gave a weak scream. He laughed, lowering his head toward her mouth.
    "Rory!" her original keeper shouted, and took her into his arms.
    Elise fought tears as he turned and her heart lurched when she caught sight of several more riders dismounting. She kicked 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