Damn the man. What had started as a beautiful morning of freedom had ended up with her covered from head to toe in mud and probably lost in the hills of the Highlands. Dark tortured eyes danced in front of her vision and she cursed him aloud. What had happened to bring about such a change? Was it just her father’s treatment of him or was it something more? Ach, well she’d never find out now. She would not stay to find out. How could she when her capture would bring about the worst battle either clan had ever seen? For she knew her disappearance would spark great anger and both sides were just waiting for a reason to slaughter the other.
How she yearned for the days when they stood side by side. It seemed so long ago now yet only eight summers had passed since a time when both families lived and worked together to defeat their common enemies.
She sighed. Dreams of peace were folly, as her da liked to remind her. If they could not return to a time when things were better then all she could do was ensure she did not fall into Morgann’s hands again. It was her duty as a Dunleith daughter to keep the peace.
As Alana peered over her shoulder to check on her progress, her footing gave way. She let out a scream as she fell forward, injured wrist giving way as she braced herself. An agonising pain shot through her head and all went dark.
***
The faery’s pointed ears pricked up as she heard the scream. Tèile peered at the Highland warrior and waited. He stiffened but continued riding. Silly human. How had he not realised it was Alana? Surely he felt her nearby? But then they had not had much time together yet and he had changed. His heart had become hard and impenetrable whereas Alana’s remained open and vulnerable. It was a dangerous combination.
Tèile rubbed a green hand across her face. The stupid horse had spotted her climbing out of the pouch and had been startled. The animal kingdom’s ability to see faeries really was a hindrance sometimes. Until she achieved her goal, Tèile was to stay with either Morgann or Alana. She had made the wrong choice, staying with Morgann as he hunted down his ride. She should have realised Alana would never stay, in spite of her burning curiosity. Too dutiful, that girl. But her spirit was to be admired.
She just hoped the girl wasn’t grievously harmed. Tèile had little control over the human body, there were other faeries who held that power. The connection between the two humans should have been enough without her having to interfere anyway, what with their shared past, but something prevented them both from seeing what was in front of them.
Jabbing a pointed finger into Morgann’s neck as she rested on his shoulder, she chuckled as he scowled and rubbed at the spot. Served him right, foolish man. Did he not know how to treat a lady? Throwing her down into the mud and trying to tie her up was no way to secure a mate. Though Tèile had thought the moment when Morgann had lain across Alana would lead to a kiss and bring her that much closer to goal. She huffed. Silly, silly humans. They were so blind to life.
Eyes closed, Tèile sought out Alana. They were close, she felt her essence calling out to Morgann. She just needed to get him to stop. Mayhap the daft mare could help.
The faery hopped down and clutched at the horse’s mane as she settled herself near its ear and whispered.
***
Casting his gaze around, Morgann tightened his grip on the reins. Foolish lass. Didn’t she know how easy it was to get lost in the mountains? Apprehension leached through his limbs and clutched at his chest. If she came to any harm…
Ach, if she came to any harm there would be no one to blame but himself. He should have at least tried to explain or coerce her, not treat her like some prize to be bargained with. But desperation had stolen his manners and his sense. Alana could potentially right all the wrongs of eight years ago and finally bring his stepmother to justice. And he needed to act fast. He could not go on thwarting her plans forever.
Caraid’s ears fluttered and Morgann tensed. He couldn’t fathom what had come over her. She had never bolted before. Never. A sense of something ominous lingered in the air, forcing bile into his throat. Alana was hurt. How he knew that, he couldn’t say.
“Hell fire,” he exclaimed as his mount’s ears twitched again and she skidded to a halt, almost sending him toppling from her.
Gathering his breath for a moment and allowing his pulse to slow, he studied the scenery. He had assumed Alana would take the shortest and easiest route through the mountains but then how well did she even know the land? He’d heard her father kept her locked away and before then she never travelled unaccompanied. Mayhap she had little clue where to go.
And mayhap he’d terrified her that much that she’d ventured up the peaks in an effort to hide from him. God’s blood but he was a beast.
Morgann dismounted, swept his wet hair from his face and stared at the peaks on either side of him. It could take days to search each crag and boulder. A prickle swept down his arm and he felt the faint sensation of someone tugging on his shirt. When he glanced at Caraid, she appeared to be motioning with her head toward a point midway up the mountain. He scowled. God’s teeth, what was he thinking, relying on strange ‘feelings’ and the intuition of his horse?
But regardless, he patted her flank. “I’ll get her, Caraid. Never fear.”
He wasn’t sure if he was trying to reassure himself or her. Hand curled around his sword, he began the journey up the mountain, peering around every rock, heart in his throat. Images of Alana fatally injured or worse assaulted him. How could he live with himself if he was responsible for her death?
Unable to prevent himself, a faint smile tugged at this lips as he remembered the sweet lass who’d followed him around since they were young. Their friendship had developed into a firm one of teasing and laughter. But she always took him too seriously, believed too much in every word he said. Mayhap she actually believed he intended to harm her. While he admired her spirit, her naivety always concerned him.
However the years had certainly fed her courage. He couldn’t imagine her fighting him off before. Now it seemed she was a determined lass. Unfortunately she was determined to evade him and put herself in mortal danger.
The mountainside proved to be slippery underfoot and he had to snatch out at the protruding rocks to keep his footing as he surveyed the land. A flash of blue fabric snared his attention and he hurried over to it.
Hell fire, Alana’s plaid.
At least he was on the right track. But if she was out in the wilds barely clothed, she was bound to catch a chill. The thought pushed him to climb faster until his breathing grew ragged and his limbs began to ache.
And then his heart juddered to a stop.
Morgann clambered up the hillside, dropping to his knees beside her. She lay on her front, caked in mud, face ashen and serene. As he reached out to her, he noted his hands shook. Lord, he’d only just found her again, he couldn’t lose her now.
Cannae lose her? She isn’t even mine.
Never mind that his heart threatened to burst in agony.
He pressed his fingers to her neck and the agony dissipated as he felt the faintest of beats. Releasing a long breath, he rolled her tentatively over and used his plaid to wipe the worst of the grime from her face. As he studied the curve of her cheek, he shook his head. Damn everything to hell. This was all his fault.
Too used to keeping secrets, that was his problem. He should have confided in her when he had the chance. The lass he’d known would never have doubted him. But how could he have told her the truth about her father? It would have broken her heart.
One hand under her head, he gathered her into his arms, tamping down on the tremor of pleasure rolling through him. Aye, he did not deny he enjoyed having Alana in his arms but what he would not give to have her in his arms under different circumstances.
Once, all those years ago, mayhap that would have been possible. He’d always clung to the hope that in another life that may have come to pass.
A faint tease of a breath blew across his neck and she mumbled as she buried her head into his neck. He uttered up a pr
ayer of thanks and tried to ignore the shiver it sent through him as he carefully made his way down the mountainside.
Morgann found another decent sized rock once he reached the bottom that would provide enough shelter from the cold. Clicking to Caraid, it pleased him to note the mare’s jumpy countenance had calmed and she obeyed him instantly, coming to stand beside him.
Morgann bent down and gingerly pressed Alana under the rock. Lying beside her, he attempted to warm her with his body. Her eyes fluttered open and she grinned sleepily at him as he leaned over to study her head. A tiny dribble of blood seeped from under her hair but it was too wet to tell where she’d hurt it. He prayed it wasn’t a deep cut.
“Morgann?” she whispered.
“Aye, ‘tis I.”
“I am glad ye’ve come for me.” She sighed. “I’ve missed ye.”
He swallowed heavily. God’s blood, she must have fallen hard. “I’ve missed ye too.”
She beamed up at him. “It pleases me to hear ye say that.”
Delicate fingers began creeping up his arm and hooked over his shoulder, holding him closer. He frowned. “What are ye playing at, lass?”
“Dinnae ye want to keep me warm, Morgann?”
Aye, of course he did. He wished to do more than keep her warm. He hungered to strip her of her clothing and kiss her from head to toe. He wished to plunder her mouth and see if her kisses were like he’d always dreamed they would be. He wished to make her his.
But he would not take advantage of her and he needed to remember exactly why he’d taken her. If he handed her back to Laird Dougall ruined, there would be hell to pay. The fates somewhere were playing a cruel trick indeed, placing this wet, sensual woman in his arms.
He huddled up to her, tucking her head into the crook of one arm. The light rain still soaked his back but the discomfort was nothing compared to the agony of having Alana flat against him. Highly aware of her slender legs twining with his, he gritted his teeth and tried to picture something less enticing.
But nothing came. All he thought of was Alana.
She tilted her head up and nuzzled into his neck, breath heating his skin. It sent a shudder through him.
God help him.
As if to torture him further, her lips tickled over his neck and he stiffened, trying to hold her at bay.
“What’s wrong, Morgann? Dinnae ye want me?” she whispered against his skin.
“I dinnae want a lass who’s had several knocks to the head. Yer brain is addled. Ye dinnae know what ye want.”
“Are ye, the brave Highland warrior, afeared of a harmless lass?”
Harmless? He could hardly believe sweet Alana was carefully threading her leg between his and pressing her juncture against his thigh. Her knee brushed against his arousal—aye, he was insanely aroused—and he held back a groan.
“I always thought ye would be the one, ye know?” she murmured.
He frowned down at her. “What is yer meaning?” Alana’s fingers sketched across his collar bone before rasping up across his bristled jaw and he gulped.
“I thought ye’d be the one to claim me.”
“Ye mean…” he trailed off, unable to find the words.
“I’ve never been with a man,” she said wistfully. “I always wanted it to be ye.”
All the blood in his body threatened to boil over with such words. It was as if the thunderstorm had struck him and his whole body was alive with lightening. Only in scant dreams had he allowed himself to imagine claiming Alana. Their friendship never had the chance to blossom into anything more than just that, but he’d always hoped that one day, when they were older, it would happen.
As had she apparently.
She rocked against him and the world went hazy as her soft flesh rubbed at him through her skirts. Ach, he was certainly being punished. Restraint was not his strong point. Alana’s breasts thrust up against him, small and delicate, practically begging for him to palm them.
“Cease, ye daft lass,” he forced out as she wrapped her hands around his neck.
“Ye dinnae mean that.”
He rolled his eyes as her lips pursed with disappointment. No doubt she would be furious if he took what she offered when she came to her senses. Where had that sweet lass he’d once known gone? Was it just the knock to her head that had turned her into a sultry seductress or had the years really changed her so?
“Ye wouldnae thank me if I took advantage. Now behave yerself. Ye’ll be lucky if ye dinnae catch a chill.”
“Ye are no fun anymore, Morgann MacRae.” She unclasped her hands from around him.
Relaxing his muscles, he slipped his thigh from between her legs. “Aye, yer probably right.” He eased her into the crook of his arm and tried to keep some distance between them. Shivers still wracked her so he couldn’t fling her away as he wished to. “Rest some, m'eudail. Ye’ve had too many adventures this morn.”
“Yer still planning on kidnapping me?” Her lashes fluttered as she fought a yawn and Morgann’s fingers twitched with the need to smooth his palm over her face and soothe her off to sleep.
Funny, because he hadn’t felt any such needs in a long time. For too long he had been on edge, striving to protect his father and his lands. War and rivalry dominated his life. That, and anger. Softer sentiments had no place in his life.
He didn’t respond. Already her eyes closed and her breathing slowed. Morgann took a moment to study her profile. Even in rest her chin pointed out stubbornly as her lips parted. They looked soft and tempting. He’d certainly gone too long without a woman, that was it. Feeling lust for the daughter of his enemy, old friend or not, was not good.
Cool. Callous. That’s what he needed to be. The fates had landed Alana in his lap for a reason. With her in his clutches, her father, Laird Dougall, would be forced to admit the truth and reveal his plans from eight summers ago. And Morgann would finally have justice and hopefully peace. A tiny noise escaped Alana’s lips as she nuzzled into him, her golden curls soft against his neck.
Ach, callous? Holding Alana captive was going to be quite the test of his character.
Chapter Three
A thud echoed in Alana’s head as she attempted to pry open her eyes. Someone incessantly pushed at her, pressing her shoulder. Was it her maid? She never normally tried to wake her with so heavy a hand. If she’d only leave her be.
“Too tired,” she mumbled as something jostled her again.
“Alana?”
Something rumbled against her back. That definitely did not sound like her maid.
“Ye awake, lass?”
Dragging her eyes open, she winced as her head pounded and sunlight flickered over the horizon. She glanced down. A horse! She was on a horse.
Strong male arms surrounded her, holding her securely and a familiar spicy scent teased at her. Morgann MacRae. Of course. It all came back to her. She put a hand to her thumping head. Obviously her attempt at escape had failed and she must have hit her head when she slipped.
“Alana?” His voice mumbled over her hair.
“Aye?”
“Good, yer awake. Ye had me worried for a while.”
“Aye, I’m awake.” She tried to twist to look at him but straining her neck round hurt her head. “Just. And no thanks to ye.”
“I didnae force ye up the mountain,” he protested.
She peered around at the scenery through half-closed eyes. The day was growing late. The sun glinted over the hills and cast their tips in an amber glow, drawing out the yellow fauna in the Highlands. Her stomach sank.
MacRae land.
The enemy’s territory. What a fool Morgann was. Her father would never let him get away with capturing her. The probable outcome of his rash actions made her stomach churn. Death would no doubt come to both sides. Mayhap even her if the MacRaes wanted.
“I suppose yer still kidnapping me too.”
“Aye.”
“Yer a fool. Just return me and I’ll no’ say a word. I swear it.”
His tone made her shiver. Something dark and desperate lay under those words. It reminded her of what she’d seen in his eyes. As if the very devil drove him.
The ache behind her eyes grew worse and she closed them, gave into the urge to rest against his broad chest. Hard muscles prodded into her back but were somehow comforting. Aye, finding comfort in the arms of her captor was not the best of ideas but her head hurt too much for her to think straight.
“The keep is up ahead,” Morgann murmured in her ear.
Alana didn’t bother to open her eyes. She remembered the keep well from the days when the clans worked closely together. Surrounded by a jagged wall, the main keep towered over the surrounding land, propped up by a tower on each corner. Once, it had been a place she’d be happy to see. Glencolum Keep meant seeing Morgann but now it was enemy territory and who knew what was awaiting her there.
Shadows flickered behind her eyelids and she heard the clatter of a portcullis. Dragging her eyes open once more, she noted the curious expression on the villagers as they passed through the gate. Trepidation tied her stomach tight and forced the pounding in her head to increase. Alana didn’t believe Morgann truly meant her harm but no doubt the MacRaes harboured anger over the deaths of their warriors just as her own clan did. The frequent battles and skirmishes between the clans had left many scars.
But the change in Morgann sent a chill through her. She’d always known he was a capable warrior with a bit of a temper and a rash nature but he’d also been humorous and kind. She only saw the tiniest flickers of such traits in him now. Surely he would not let her come to harm? Even with whatever desperation drove him?
Shudders wracked her and his hold tightened. Ach, but she was weak. The movement of his arms displaced the chill with a great surging warmth. She glanced down at his arm, watched the way the linen pulled tight against his skin as he handled the reins. The slightest hint of a scar peeked out of his sleeve but she couldn’t see it properly without pulling back his shirt. Alana knew well how he came by it.
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