MacLean's Passion: A Highland Pride Novel Read Free

occasionally, Colin could feel him shift to look behind them. He liked that someone had his back.
    As the night wore on, he could feel his skin burning with fever and hear his breath rattling in his lungs.
    He didn’t stop. He didn’t speak to the boy. With raw determination, a raging fever, and the beginnings of a concerning cough, he doggedly kept going.
    —
    Margaret Sinclair was finding it more and more difficult to keep her back straight and not put her arms around the warrior in front of her. She desperately wanted to lean her head against his back and close her eyes for a moment.
    The past few hours had been miraculous and surprising and frightening, and she still couldn’t believe that she was free and riding through the forest on the back of a horse with Colin MacLean.
    For weeks her sole mission had been to keep her gender a secret. If the English discovered she was a woman…well, she had a fairly good idea what would happen, but she refused to think about it. She kept quiet, didn’t speak, and used the privy bucket only when everyone was asleep. Though it had made for some very uncomfortable days, she’d managed for weeks.
    Her cellmate, the man sitting in front of her, had blessedly left her alone, making it easier for her to keep up her facade. She’d liked that, although she had to admit there had been times she desperately wanted to talk to him only because she hadn’t spoken to anyone in weeks.
    But that would have been deadly, so she’d kept her mouth shut and watched him from her corner of the cell.
    He was a large man. Wide. Not overly tall, like her brother. He was quiet, brooding. Those green eyes saw right past her, which was a good thing.
    He was beaten quite regularly. Strangely enough, it was through his beatings that she’d come to admire him. He was stoic afterward, although clearly in quite a bit of pain.
    She’d known that he was scheduled to hang the next day, and that had made her sad and afraid. She appreciated him as a cellmate because he didn’t ask questions, and she worried that the next occupant wouldn’t be quite so reticent. She also worried that her hanging was next, and she didn’t want to die.
    But something miraculous had happened. Lord Campbell had given MacLean whispered directives, and just as unexpectedly, Colin was walking out of the cell and telling her to follow him.
    And now they were riding hell-bent through the Highlands. The only problem was that the more time they spent together, the more likely her secret was to be discovered, and she wasn’t at all certain what his reaction would be.
    He coughed and she frowned. She’d known he wasn’t feeling well. One didn’t spend every minute of every day with someone and not get to know that person well. His breathing had become harsh over the past day, and his cheeks had turned rosy beneath his thick black beard. And now he was coughing, and even through all of their layers of clothing, she could feel the heat radiating off him.
    The sickness had swept through the prison. The already weakened prisoners had succumbed to it, many dying as a result. She’d prayed that she wouldn’t catch it because she couldn’t afford for her jailors to cart her off to the surgeon.
    Slowly, she leaned forward to press her cheek against his solid back, mindful of the cuts of the whip. Even after weeks of being held prisoner, he was still muscular, and she could feel the flex of those muscles as he guided their mount through the darkness. Even though she could well take care of herself, she still felt safer knowing those broad shoulders shielded her.
    Her eyes drifted closed. She straightened and shook her head, forcing herself to search the path behind them. It was automatic, and she was glad to be helping in even this small way. She’d hoped the dogs would have followed Campbell, but apparently they had not, for she could still hear them.
    MacLean turned the horse to the right, causing their mount to stumble before finding his