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

a hopeful look. "Sensible, don't you agree?"
    "Sensible?" he repeated.
    Elise abruptly grasped her stomach. Marcus held her head to the side as she wretched violently. The convulsion ceased and he wiped her mouth with the tartan.
    She sat up. "Had to happen eventually," she croaked.
    "Will you be all right?"
    She nodded but averted her face. "I'm much better."
    Marcus stood. "Michael, you, Brian, and Finn remain here. Get the horses," he said to the remaining men, then looked at Elise. "I assume you freed their horses?"
    She nodded.
    "Marcus," Michael said. "We stumbled upon two Campbells. They were the guards west of the camp. Seems we were wrong. They had moved. Probably the only ones who had horses."
    "Dead?"
    The older man nodded.
    Marcus's men returned with the horses.
    He took Alexis's reins and mounted, then said to Michael, "It may take some time, but I won't leave before catching every last one of the bastards. If so much as a shadow flickers, get out."
    Michael nodded, and Marcus reined his horse around, his men following.
    * * * *
    Marcus stood, legs apart, staring down at Elise. She sat on the couch, head bowed, her gaze on the carpeted floor of his library. He took a deep breath and seated himself beside her.
    "A day on the trip home and I held my tongue," he said. "Then a day here at Brahan Seer. You're well enough now to answer to me. What in God's name were you doing?"
    "I promised Michael I would come."
    "Michael would not hold you to any such promise."
    She lifted her chin and met his gaze. "I didn't go alone, as you know."
    "You took a boy, Elise."
    Pain flickered across her face. "I will not make that mistake again."
    "Nay, you will not, but that doesn't explain why you insist upon going. Bloody hell, Elise, no one but you is a risk-taker."
    She stiffened. "I am sorry you had to come for me—"
    " Sorry I had to come for you? You little idiot. It wasn't the coming for you that you need be sorry for, but the fact you nearly got yourself killed. It's a miracle you survived the fall from your horse."
    Marcus shifted his gaze to her right cheek where the light yellow of a severe bruise peeked out from beneath her thick hair. He was well aware of the gash that lay hidden beneath her hair. She had taken great pains to hide the wound. What else did she hide?
    "What of the Campbells, Elise?"
    She frowned. "I don't understand why they took me."
    "Nay?"
    She started. "I'm not a complete fool. I understand their intentions. But why make off with me? Why not attack me there?"
    A mental picture of them attacking her there rose on a tide of a fury that forced Marcus to his feet. He strode to the sideboard, poured a whiskey, drank it in one gulp, then set the glass down and faced her. He leaned against the sideboard and folded his arms across his chest.
    "They like to savor their victims."
    Her lips parted in a soft gasp.
    "Did you think otherwise?" he asked.
    "The beady-eyed one, Rory, would have taken me there, but their leader, William—"
    "William?" Marcus interjected savagely. He started toward her. Her eyes widened when he closed the gap between them. He yanked her from her seat. "What did William want, Elise?"
    "He stopped Rory from…"
    "Did he now?" Marcus shoved her onto the couch, pivoted, and returned to the sideboard. He poured another drink and emptied the glass as he had the last, then faced her again. "It didn't occur to you he didn't want a woman who was used up?"
    Her cheeks reddened, then her expression hardened. "There had been no sign of Campbells for weeks. How long am I supposed to let your fears rule me?"
    "Until I say otherwise. Just be glad I don't tie you to your bed."
    Her eyes narrowed. "What sort of threat is that?"
    "The kind I will enforce with relish."
    Elise jumped to her feet. She swayed slightly. Marcus started forward, then stopped when she fisted her hands at her sides.
    "Ooooh." She drew the word out in a long frustrated breath. "You are an arrogant knave, Marcus MacGregor, not to