Highlanders Read Free

grandfather will hang us if we do not deliver ye to him safely.”
    Another, more distant shout went up amongst the men, this one followed by a clash of steel. Was it truly St. Claire who accosted them? Anger whipped through Rhoslyn. The death of her grandfather’s knights would be on Edward’s head. He would pay. Oh, how he would pay.
    The sounds of fighting faded. She could make out the murky shadows of trees alongside the road, but didn’t know where they were. The pounding of her protectors’ horses’ hooves beside her should have given comfort. Instead, she knew the sound would haunt her forever. It was the sound of cowardice. The sound of defeat.
    A large silhouette abruptly appeared in front of them.
    “My lady!” Aland cried.
    He tore to the right and Rhoslyn followed while David galloped left. She heard a thwack, but couldn’t guess the source, and forced her horse back onto the road. She pulled on the reins. A man’s grunt sounded and a horse gave a shrill cry. Rhoslyn turned her mount toward the sound and one of the knights appeared nearby.
    “Aland, is that you?” Or was it David?
    He brought his horse up beside hers. Something struck her as odd, but before she could understand what, an arm snaked out and around her waist. She yanked the dagger from its sheath and drove the blade downward toward the arm gripping her as she was dragged from her horse. The blade snagged on her attacker’s armor and he muttered a curse as she slammed into a wall of muscle protected by chainmail.
    Fear sent a wave of dizziness through her. She raised the knife for another blow, but iron fingers clamped around her wrist. She cried out in pain and her grip faltered. He shook her wrist hard and she dropped the dagger.
    Her legs dangled against the horse’s flanks and she gave a vicious kick to its ribs. The beast started forward, then the arm around her tightened as its owner pulled back on the reins. She kicked again—harder—and the horse reared. Her attacker crushed Rhoslyn between his chest and arms as he leaned forward in an effort to force the animal’s front hooves back onto the ground.
    She gasped for breath through crushed lungs. The horse’s hooves hit the ground so hard her teeth jarred. Rhoslyn clawed at the arm that pinned her. Her fingers slipped on a warm, slick substance, and satisfaction surged through her at the realization that it was his blood. She must have cut him below his chainmail. His hold, however, did not weaken, despite the wound.
    With a grunt, he seized her arms and trapped them against her body. He threw a leg over her thighs, pinning them against the horse’s side, before the horse shot forward. Tears of rage stung her eyes even as she arched and twisted. Her grandfather’s men had died for nothing. Aland...David, had died without ever seeing their executioner.
    Rhoslyn’s legs cramped and she struggled harder. She would plunge the first knife she found into the heart of Talbot St Claire. He was a fool to have acted so rashly. He would not have her, her lands, or the goodwill of his king. Nay. He would die.
    Minutes passed in growing agony before her captor at last slowed his horse’s pace. Rhoslyn couldn’t deny her relief when he released the pressure on her legs. He shifted her bottom across his hard thighs, and she straightened, stretching her legs. One large hand pressed her thigh in what she knew was a warning not to incite the beast again.
    Pinpricks of light dotted the foggy darkness ahead. Was this Dunfrey Castle? She hadn’t seen lights to indicate they had passed Castle Glenbarr. So her captor had wisely circled around her home to avoid detection. Once they reached Dunfrey Castle she would become a prisoner. Dunfrey Castle, nicknamed ‘Dragon’s Lair’ by the Highlanders who had competed against St. Claire in the tainchel , the Great Hunt, was smaller than Castle Glenbarr, but no less fortified. St. Claire would defeat any who attacked him, just as he had his