A Highlander Never Surrenders Read Free Page A

return Charles II to the throne was rampant. Stuart was cousin to the exiled king, and the leader of the resistance of the English army’s occupation in Scotland. Monck wanted him found, but the man was as elusive as the wind.
    “I will not find him unless he comes to me. And he will not do that.”
    “Nor would I if the Roundheads were hunting me.”
    “Some would consider me a Roundhead,” Robert reminded him, realizing once again how precarious their friendship was.
    Graham shrugged his shoulders, keeping his eyes on the path ahead. “Aye, ye support a Parliament that has recently been expelled by the military. ’Twas better here in Scotland when we had a king.”
    “You are a Royalist, Graham, I understand. But should I forget my allegiance to the commonwealth?”
    “Yer commonwealth is ruled by generals who fight amongst themselves and who suppress our people. Even Parliament does not trust them.”
    Robert ground his jaw with frustration over his own uncertainty. The Campbells had served the law for generations. Whether that law was handed down by one man or a house full of them made no difference. To turn his back on the realm was treason. Still, he knew Graham was right in his thinking. The return of a sovereign power would be better than the complete anarchy in England now. “Why do you aid me in finding Stuart if you believe in his crusade?”
    Graham looked over his friend’s swollen face and sighed. “Because I’m afraid he’ll kill ye.”
    “Your confidence in my skills is warming.” Robert attempted a sardonic smirk, which Graham answered by grimacing with him.
    “I’d be more confident if ye’d thrown a punch in return.”
    Robert shook his head, painful as it was to both his shoulders and his pride. “I think the bastard broke my jaw.”

Chapter Two

    W e have all been betrayed.

    Satan’s balls, she wasn’t going to die this way! Claire Stuart glared at the man’s head buried between her breasts. With a final tug that confirmed how tightly her wrists were bound to the oak behind her, she gritted her teeth and then sank them into the mauler’s shoulder.
    “Ahh! You bitch!” Her attacker reeled away gripping his bloodied wound. “I’ll kill you for that!” He lunged for her, mindless that her legs were free. None of the men had thought to secure her feet to the tree. After all, it was her arms that had wielded a sword so expertly against them, killing six of his comrades when they came upon her this morning. But her attacker realized his oversight an instant after, when she kicked him square in his nether regions and sent him straight to his knees.
    “You’re a feisty wench.” Another man strode toward her with an arrogant swagger. Claire silently promised to rid him of it the moment she was free—if she could just get her damned hands loose! “Brave . . .” He stepped over his writhing companion and, with a smile of purely naked male intent, pointed the tip of his blade at her throat. “. . . and foolish enough to travel alone. Mayhap I shall bring you back to London with me. Surely General Lambert would grant me a wife for all my years of service.”
    “Lambert?” Claire glowered at him while she struggled against her restraints. “What are Lambert’s men doing in Scotland?”
    “We are paving the way for our leader, and killing a few Royalists along the way. Someone must fulfill the task, since Monck sits idly in his castle doing little to stop them.” He dipped his eyes to the creamy swell of her bosom, half exposed by her torn shirt. Then lower, to her shapely hips and legs, encased in snug-fitting trews and boots. “Strange attire for a lady,” he said, meeting her fired gaze. “What is your name?”
    Hell, he was as dense as a wall. Did he think she would give him her true name if she was a Royalist? Which, being the king’s cousin, she was. She gave him an exasperated sigh. How long were these two going to waste her time? Her sister could be being forced to