The Highlander's Bride Trouble by Mary Wine

Author:Mary Wine [Wine, Mary]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Historical, Scottish
ISBN: 9781402264887
Google: oOEUBAAAQBAJ
Publisher: Sourcebooks, Inc.
Published: 2014-08-05T04:00:00+00:00

Four

Saer gave a roar when they reached MacLeod land. He sounded primitive and savage, and his men lifted their voices to match his.

It was the last straw for Nareen.

When they had left that morning, the MacLeod retainers had formed around her the moment she mounted her mare. They kept her in their midst as they rode hard for the MacLeod land.

Saer led them, looking too full of authority to suit her mood. His sword was strapped to his back, driving home the fact that he would defend his will if necessary.

She felt the noose tightening.

Looking past the men riding near her, she glanced toward her father’s land. She couldn’t see it, of course, but it felt as if it was calling to her.

One of the retainers’ horses tried to nip her mare, because Nareen had started pulling the horse in the direction she gazed. The stallion snorted, and his rider growled something in Gaelic before she was able to bring the mare back into the center of the road. But she couldn’t resist one last look toward Grant land.

The retainer riding along the opposite side of her peeled away in a fluid motion as Saer guided his stallion into step beside her. She had only a moment to register his appearance before he reached across and scooped her off her mare.

She squealed as she felt herself passing between the animals. It was a dangerous place to be with the rest of the retainers behind them. If she fell, she’d be trampled.

Saer hauled her in front of him and turned his stallion away from the other horses.

“Are ye mad?” she demanded as she tried to push away from him, but with the horse in motion, it was impossible. He clamped a solid arm around her, binding her against his hard body.

She’d forgotten she enjoyed the way his skin smelled.

“Put me back on me mare!” she insisted.

One short, solid word was his response. “No.” His tone was clipped and unyielding.

“Ye’re a spitfire at times, Nareen.”

He stopped his horse, and his men pulled up as well. Dust swirled in the air and the animals snorted.

“But ye’re my spitfire,” he informed her smugly.

“I am nae,” she argued.

Determination flickered in his eyes, making her mouth go dry. The savage side of his nature was showing through. She recognized it now.

“We’ll see,” he promised softly. “But for that, ye’ll have to be coming home with me.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but he wrapped something around her arm. He started knotting a strip of his tartan around her wrist.

“Ye cut yer kilt?”

It was such a waste, and most Highlanders considered it an insult. Saer chuckled darkly.

“There is no better way to bind ye to me and ensure everyone knows exactly what I intend.”

His meaning eluded her, until he grabbed her belt and slipped her around behind him. She swung her leg over the horse frantically, to keep herself from sliding, and grabbed his belt to steady herself.

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