Laird of the Mist Read Free Page A

For an unsettling instant he lost all ability to reason, save that he knew he would be content to look at her for however many days he had left on the Earth. ’Twas not fear that made her bonny eyes appear so big, but reverence. Admiration from a Campbell! Since he had never saved the life of one before, he was not prepared for her awe. He shifted again, feeling damned uncomfortable and blaming her for it.
    “I am Callum MacGregor.” Best to get it over with sooner rather than later, though a part of him regretted having to watch that veneration turn to hatred when he spoke his name aloud. He was not disappointed. Her face paled to such a milky white he thought she might faint dead away and tumble from her horse.
    His eyes were usually very quick, and on any other day Callum MacGregor would never have missed an enemy reaching for a weapon. But for a moment her beauty made him forget about fighting and hatred and blood. A moment was all it took for her to slip her hand beneath her belt and retrieve the small dagger she had hidden there.
    The glimmer of surprise that sparked Callum’s eyes belied his cold, impassive voice. “Ye have courage to point yer dagger at me.” She swung, and he moved in a blur of speed, yanking her from her horse to his. Pressing her chest to his, he closed his arms around her, pinning her dagger securely behind her back. “Ye insult the laird of the clan MacGregor with such a meager weapon, lass.”
    “Let me go, vermin!” she hurled at him and spent the remainder of her energy kicking and wriggling, trying to free herself. “Let me go if you be a man, and let me fight you with my sword.”
    Callum glanced at Graham, mirroring the commander’s expression of admiration at her furious promise. She was a fiery, braw lass, something all Highlanders valued.
    But she was a Campbell.
    “Is Argyll in the keep?” Callum asked her, barely straining a muscle against her attempts to be free of him.
    “I told you I don’t know where he is, but when you find him, take him to hell with you!”
    Aye, now this was more like the reaction he expected from a Campbell. She was no more innocent than the rest. “Graham, get me some rope. The wench tires me.”
    Her fight came to an abrupt halt. She glared up at him with the promise of retribution frosting her eyes. “Will you prove yourself naught but a savage by raping me?”
    Briefly, his gaze fell to her lips, then drifted over the rest of her body in a leisurely inspection of her feminine aspects, as if he were considering it. “Woman, I am much more than a savage.”
    Her nostrils flared. “I would cut off your—”
    Over her shoulder, Callum saw one of her uncle’s men exit from behind the house, cocked bow in hand. He had no time to shield her as the arrow whistled toward them and penetrated her right shoulder, just above her breast. Though it happened within the space of a breath, he watched it pierce her perfect form, watched the breathtaking spark of life grow dull in her eyes. As Graham raced toward the guardsman, Callum’s eyes met hers again when she realized she’d been hit.
    “Och, hell.” Her breath was a ragged whisper, sweet against his chin. “That was likely meant for you.”

 

    Chapter Two
    F IRE LANCED UP K ATE’S ARM and seared her chest. Every inhalation of breath became more excruciating than the one before it. It wasn’t helping that her captor still held her firmly pressed against his body.
    On second thought, mayhap it was. For she couldn’t move or flail about as agony gripped her. Her thoughts began to fade, but she fought to cling to consciousness. She had never fainted before, and she was not about to do so now whilst in the arms of a MacGregor!
    “Be still with ye, lass.”
    “Dear God, it pains me,” she groaned, covering her face in his shoulder.
    “Let the pain settle.” His pitch lowered to a comforting murmur. His arms loosened around her while she tried to slow her breathing. He turned to his men,