Highland Yuletide Magic (The Band of Cousins Book 9) by Montclair Keira

Author:Montclair, Keira [Montclair, Keira]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: Keira Montclair
Published: 2019-11-18T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

Moray said to his men, “One more time. They could be anywhere. Search in places you’ve not searched before.” This was their last chance for several days. The wind had steadily increased as the gray clouds made their way across the sky. The storm was nearly upon them.

The men nodded, more willing to search hard now that they knew there were young ones missing. But they’d already been searching for several hours and found nothing.

Where the hell had the golden-haired lass gone? He’d been chasing her for over a sennight at this point, and although she’d surely been a challenge, he refused to give up.

He and Gilbert were heading off in one direction when a scream ripped through the air.

A scream that came from fear and desperation. It was the lass he’d seen before. He was sure of it.

Moray tugged on the reins of his horse, sending it in the direction of the scream. When he finally managed to get close enough to set eyes upon the melee, he felt a lump in his throat. This helplessness was the same emotion he’d felt upon learning about his brother Ronan.

He’d vowed never to experience it again.

How wrong he’d been.

Six horses ahead of him tore through the trees. The reiver astride the last horse was holding a screaming lass across the saddle, face-down. Sun-colored hair whipped in the wind, telling him who he would find on the horse.

The group of horses headed across the glen, traveling way too quickly for the conditions of the ground. They raced up a ravine with steep sides—a dangerous spot where they should have slowed their pace. They did not. The last horse stumbled as they crossed the ravine at full speed. The rider fought to stay on its back, but he lost his captive.

The lass fell off the horse, then tumbled down the steep expanse, her screams ripping at Moray’s insides. To his horror, he saw her head strike a rock on the way down. He shouted a command to Gilbert to continue pursuing the kidnappers, then jumped off his horse and raced down to the bottom of the ravine.

He rushed to her side, praying the blow hadn’t been enough to kill her.

Her eyes were closed, and blood poured from the wound on the side of her head.

Tearing a piece of his plaid, he placed the strip of fabric against her wound, doing his best to stanch the bleeding. She moaned, but her eyes never opened.

Gingerly, he placed his hand under her chin and turned her head enough so he could get a good look at her.

Just as he’d thought, it was the golden-haired lass, only she was even more beautiful than he had guessed. He touched her shoulder and said, “Open your eyes for me, lass. Please?”

She would be covered in bruises on the morrow from her tumble down the ravine, but that did not worry him as much as her head wound. The bleeding was slowing, but the wound had swollen to quite a mound, and he hated to put pressure on it anymore.

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