Free Cowboys and Highlanders by Tarah Scott, KyAnn Waters Page A

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 they watched.
    "Nay," Michael whispered.
    Marcus strained to make out the figure's form in the moonlight, but the hill cast too dark a shadow on the valley. "God damn it," he muttered. "If anyone has given away our presence—" The loud neigh of a horse broke the quiet. "What the bloody hell?"
    "The horses," Michael hissed as the Campbell horses bolted.
    Shouts rose, and the Campbells sprang up and after their mounts.
    "What are they up to?" Marcus yanked his gaze back onto the figure in the shadows near the horses. He leaned forward in the saddle and was riding to the left of the camp.
    "Take two men and bring back that rider," Marcus said. "Be careful not to alert the others to our presence."
    Marcus turned his attention onto the Campbell men running through the trees in an effort to retrieve their scattered horses. Then waited.
     
    The light sound of a boot treading close came from the darkness and Marcus jerked his head around.
    "Laird," one of his men said, "come quick. We have the rider."
    He pulled his breacan close and backed away from the crest of the hill, jumped to his feet, then hurried downhill at a near run. At the bottom, he broke through the circle of his men, hand on the hilt of his sword.
    "Nay! Laird, stop!" came a chorus of low voices.
    Marcus felt his sword arm jerked back, but he saw the prisoner even as someone grabbed his other arm. He went stock still. "Elise?"
    "Yes," she replied.
    Even in the shallow light of the cloudy darkness, he could discern her drawn expression. "Are you unharmed?"
    She smiled, her mouth quavering a little. "I have a blazing headache, but I'll live."
    Marcus started forward, but two of his men seized his arm. "Release me." He yanked free, then took two steps and halted before her. "You are the rider?"
    "Yes."
    She swayed. Marcus caught her to him.
    Elise clutched at his shirt, burying her head in his chest. She didn't move for a long moment, then took a shuddering breath and mumbled against him, "If I could sit down."
    He whipped off his cloak and wrapped it around her. Marcus slipped an arm beneath her and she threw her arms around his neck when he lifted her into his arms. He knelt and gently settled her in a seated position on the ground. Her arms remained tight about him for a moment, then finally relaxed.
    Marcus straightened, his gaze falling on her bare feet. "Where are your shoes?"
    She glanced from her feet back at him. "I took them off. What woman attempting an escape would go barefoot?" She gave him