Free Kate Wingo - Highland Mist 01 by Her Scottish Captor Page A

steps in her direction. “Everything I say to ye is an order. I am not in the habit of making suggestions.”
    “Perhaps it is a habit that you should cultivate.”
    “Are ye always so contrary?”
    “I am no t the least bit contrary. I am— It is just that you—” Although she stood her ground, Yvette appeared visibly flustered, her cheeks inflamed with rosy color.
    Because she was a gently-bred noblewoman, Iain suspected that she had little experience with the killing of things. Roasted boar appeared on the banquet table and she ate it, blissfully unaware of the bloodletting that preceded the sumptuous fare.
    “How is it that ye c ame to be here?” he asked, his voice deceptively calm. “This is no’ where ye’re supposed to be.”
    Refusing to meet his gaze, the lady said, “And where is it that you think I should be?”
    Unable to control his anger, Iain bellowed, “On the back of my horse, damn ye!” Grabbing Yvette by the chin, he forced her to look him directly in the eye. “I’ll have naught but the truth from you. Did ye fall from my mount or were ye attempting to escape from me?”
    “Given the brutish way that you have treated me thus far and the fact that—”
    “Answer the question!”
    Yvette’s chest visibly rose and fell as she took several deep breaths. “I attempted to escape,” she murmured, her gaze dropping to the ground.
    Inexplicably disappoi nted, Iain let go of her chin. “Are ye daft, woman? Ye could have been killed.”
    “At the ti me, that was not a consideration. I wanted only to secure my freedom.”
    “And a high price ye would have paid for it with a broken neck,” he muttered, thunderstruck that she ’d even made the attempt.
    “I desire to be free. Is that so difficult for you to comprehend?”
    “’Tis no’ so difficult to ken . But if the MacDougalls had found ye wandering the marsh, ye’d be dead no’ free.”
    He aring that, her brow furrowed. “And who may I ask are the MacDougalls?”
    “Who are the — Christ’s blood!” he blurted, overcome with a strong desire to shake the wench. “Who do ye think we’ve been running from?”
    “I thought it was . . . was Sir Galen de Ogilvy . . . the earl’s nephew,” Yvette stammered, clearly bewildered. As she stared at the glen in the distance, her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “’Twas foolish of me to think that Sir Galen would—” Squaring her shoulders, Yvette brusquely waved the thought aside. “Why are you being pursued by the MacDougalls?”
    “ They are vassals of the Lord of the Lorne,” he told her. “Which makes us blood enemies.”
    “And you are not a vassal of the Lord of the Lorne, I take it.”
    “ The MacKinnon gives allegiance to the Lord of the Isles.”
    “I have heard of the bloodthirsty warfare that constantly rages amongst the Highland clans,” Yvette said in a circumspect tone of voice. “And after spending the last two days in your forced company, I can well imagine that you have more than your fair share of enemies.”
    One sid e of Iain’s mouth quirked upward. “Aye, we Highlanders are a wild lot. There’s no denying it.”
    “Why did you not tell me beforehand that it was an enemy clan giving chase?”
    “I am the MacKinnon. I dinna have to explain myself to anyone.”
    “But if you had done so, we would not be standing in the middle of this godforsaken glen with a dead boar at our feet,” Yvette retorted, belligerently tipping her chin at him.
    By God, she ha s more backbone than many a man , Iain silently marveled.
    He’d never before encountered a woman who so bravely challenged his authority. Certainly, Fiona had never challenged him so steadfastly.
    “If ye dinna like where ye’re standing, ye should have kept yer arse on the horse,” he said pointedly. “Did ye think I would not hunt you down? Only last night I told you what I would do if ye foolishly attempted to escape from me.”
    “My mistake was in failing to consider the lure of two