His Wild Highland Lass Read Free Page A

that they'd taken Milis. Loving her sweet and gentle horse, Sorcha prayed whoever bought her would care for her the same as she did.
    As soon as the horse thieves had departed the area, their torchlight fading until she could no longer see it or hear their horses' footfalls, she had waited for a good long while, listening, making sure no one was waiting for her to return to the site where her horse had been. Unable to see anything in the dark, she had managed to climb down, but she'd stumbled and fallen so many times, she'd bruised her knees. She was just lucky she hadn't torn her garments. Finally giving up on the venture, she had found another tree to climb. Though the first branch she had reached for had snapped off in her hand, and she had feared someone would hear her.
    After walking half the day, with a heavy bundle that included another wool léine and an extra chemise, hard cheese, harder bannocks, and oats for making porridge, she had finally stopped for a brief respite. Trying to gather water at the loch to make her porridge when the sun was too high in the sky had been a mistake. She should have remained hidden in the forest until dusk. As soon as she'd glimpsed the men near the standing stones, she'd raced into the forest, but not quickly enough.
    When Ronan said which clan he was laird of, that didn't bode well. She was far enough from the MacNeill clan that she was certain her brother by marriage would not suspect she was here. But since the clan of the Daziel did not get along with the MacNeills, she feared saying how she was now related to them.
    Against her will, she sat in front of the laird, feeling the heat and hardness of his body, the way he was reacting to hers, and she wanted to move away from him. And tried to, but he only tightened his hold on her.
    "Quit your squirming, Sorcha." He sounded as if he was suffering.
    She was suffering! With the sun shining down on them, his body pressed so indecently against hers, and the heat radiating between them, she was burning up. She thought she might melt into a puddle on his saddle if she didn't get away from him. Not to mention thinking about the way he had so indecently lain between her legs! And she'd felt his staff growing then, too. In fact, she believed him to be just as aroused as then. Except this time he was pressing it against her back.
    She saw no sign of his castle and hoped that it wasn't far or she really would expire, especially with as little sleep as she had last eve.
    "My brother, Ward, is on our left. My youngest brother, Alban, is riding to the right. You know who I am. Now, tell me who you really are."
    He would not know where she belonged if she didn't tell him which clan she came from. Mayhap his people hadn't fought the MacNeills in a very long time, and she might be all right. But she didn't want to risk it.
    She didn't tell him who she was as she closed her eyes and settled into the rocking rhythm of the horse's easy gait. The heat surrounded her as she listened to the hooves pounding the ground in a melodic way, soothing, as it had been when she had escaped Craigly Castle and her ogre of a brother by marriage after she had traveled far enough and no one had caught up with her.
    She wondered then if anyone had even tried.
    Though she knew if her sister, Lady Akira, had any say in it, she would have moved mountains to locate her and bring her home. She adored her older sister, loved Akira's daughter, four sons, and their nephew, but she hated the man her sister had been forced to marry. Then she wondered if this wasn't providence. Mayhap she could work on this laird's staff and no one would ever be the wiser. If he was a good laird, mayhap it could work in her favor.
    When she didn't say anything further, Ronan said, "How did you come by a horse? Did your father gave it to you? A brother?" As if he was considering other possibilities, he was silent for a moment. "A husband?"
    "She appears to be sleeping," Ward said. "She probably has