Highland Captive
Aimil
eyed Parlan intently. “I dinnae suppose ye may have changed your mind.”
“Nay.
I was determined to have ye as soon as I kenned ye werenae a child too young
for the having.”
Parlan
scooped her up in his arms and gently deposited her on the bed. It astounded
her that such a large man could move with such silent speed. When he partially
covered her body with his own, she shivered slightly. His large, strong body
made her feel very small and very fragile, yet she was not really afraid.
Instead, she felt the desire she craved to taste eke into her veins.
“Dinnae
be afeard of me, sweeting. I mean only to pleasure ye,” he whispered, brushing
soft kisses over her cheeks.
“Pleasure
yourself, ye mean,” she grumbled, but felt an odd tingling where his lips
touched her skin.
“Aye,
but ye as weel, Aimil. Just relax and give yourself over to me.”
Only for You
My Valiant Knight
Unconquered
Wild Roses
A Taste of Fire
Highland Destiny
Highland Honor
Highland Promise
A Stockingful of Joy
Highland Vow
Highland Knight
Highland Hearts
Highland Bride
Highland Angel
Highland Groom
Highland Warrior
Reckless
Highland Conqueror
Highland Champion
Highland Lover
Highland Vampire
Conqueror’s Kiss
Highland Barbarian
Beauty and the Beast
Highland Savage
Highland Thirst
Highland Wedding
Highland Wolf
Silver Flame
Highland Fire
Nature of the Beast
Highland Captive
Highland
Sinner
Published by
Zebra Books
HIGHLAND CAPTIVE
HANNAH HOWELL
ZEBRA BOOKS
Kensington
Publishing Corp.
Scotland,
1500
Astonishment
froze the handsome, young man’s face when the sturdy horse he had mounted
buckled beneath him, collapsing and sending him tumbling to the ground. For a moment
he simply stared at the white stallion nimbly rising. Brushing himself off as
he too rose, he glared at the small figure who sat not far away laughing
helplessly.
“Brat,”
he said affectionately, a grin beginning to shape his mouth. “When did ye teach
the beast that trick?”
“While
ye were tasting the wicked life in Aberdeen, Leith.”
Leith
grinned as he lay down next to his sister, his arms crossed beneath his head. “Aye,
and a hearty taste I had too.”
“Wicked,
wicked.” Aimil sighed, but her aquamarine eyes sparkled with laughter. “What
would Aunt Morag say?”
“Please,
Lord, that I will never ken,” Leith remarked feelingly as he sat up. “We had
best be headed back. The day wanes.”
“Och,
must we? I have seen naught but the inside of that place for the past month.”
“‘Tis
safer, what with the MacGuins raiding again. I shouldnae have let ye persuade
me on this jaunt. Not even when ye do look like a wee beggar boy. We might pass
unseen, but that stallion of yours would surely catch the eye.” He clasped her
hand in his and led her toward their horses. “Now tell me about this wedding
that all talk about.” He saw her pale. “Oho...is that the way of it then?”
“Aye.
I ken I must, but I cannae abide the thought of it. I dinnae even like Rory
Fergueson.”
Neither
did Leith but he refrained from saying it. “I shall talk to Father.”
“I
dinnae think it will do any good. This marriage has been set since the cradle.
I may be his kin, but he is sore anxious to be rid of me.”
There
was little to deny for Leith knew it was sadly true. Since the day Aimil had
begun to look more like a woman than a child, their father had ignored her. Not
only was Leith confused by their father’s attitude but his two elder sisters
and two younger brothers also were as was most everyone else in the clan. Any
attempt to broach the subject with their father, however, met with silence or
fury. Now he was about to give Aimil in marriage to a man about whom some very
unsavory things were said.
“I
will still talk to him. Has he given ye any reason for the marriage?”
“Aye,
‘tis time I wed,” she replied somewhat bitterly. “And that it was a promise to
an old friend.”
“That
isnae good enough. If ye must wed a man ye dinnae want, father can give you a
damn good reason why. Even if it was set while ye still rocked in your cradle.”
Aimil
smiled at her brother’s anger. Leith was much like their father. He could bark
orders and expect immediate obedience. Unlike their sire, however, he felt a
reason should be given if it was asked for. She knew his anger and determination
did not mean that she would be released from marrying Rory Fergueson, but it
was comforting to have an ally. At least he might force their father to better
explain the why of it all.
An
alliance had been her first thought for though they were far from poor the
Mengues were a small clan and were often targeted by the MacGuins. That theory
had been dispelled for an alliance already existed as far as she knew. Her
sisters’, Giorsal’s and Jennet’s, marriages already attached the Mengues to the
MacVerns and the Broths which had greatly added to the Mengues’ strength. She
did not believe that marrying Rory Fergueson would make any difference at all
except to make her life miserable.
Leith
felt an urgency to get home and not because it was growing late. He knew that
their father was well aware of the man Rory had become. Just as Leith could not
understand his father’s attitude toward Aimil, the prettiest and most
personable of his daughters, so too was he unable to understand how their
father could think of marrying her off to such a man. The more Leith thought of
his favorite sibling in the hands of Rory Fergueson, the more determined he
became to put a stop to the marriage.
Whatever
plans Leith may have begun were lost as horsemen bearing the MacGuin colors
burst upon the quiet glade. Young Artair MacGuin wondered what young fools had
so unwittingly placed themselves in the path of his raiding party’s return to
its lair. Recognizing the Mengue colors, he thought to impress his elder
brother with some captives for ransom. The excellant horseflesh the pair of
lads had with them was a prize worth taking as well. His brother had not
sanctified Artair’s raids but Artair felt sure that such gain would ease
whatever anger was aroused by them.
Drawing
his sword, Leith stood firmly between Aimil and the MacGuin raiders, pushing
her toward her horse. “Flee while ye can. I will try to hold them.”
The
instant’s pause Aimil took while pondering the desertion of her brother cost
her dearly. She had barely vaulted onto the back of her steed when a MacGuin
was there, trying to seize her reins. He received a small booted foot in the
face which sent him flying. She realized it was only a temporary victory for
she was surrounded by MacGuins and prevented from making a run for safety. She
and her horse put up a valiant battle nonetheless, leaving many a MacGuin and
his mount with bruises to remember. The melee seemed to last for hours, but
Aimil knew it was only of a few moments’ duration. A scowling man ended it
swiftly by the judicious wielding of the flat of his sword against her head. As
she slumped into unconciousness, she saw her brother fall beneath a half-dozen
MacGuins. The last sound she made was a terrifying scream that Leith was about
to be murdered.
The
strong smell of horseflesh was her first sensation as she edged back into
awareness. She then realized that she was tied to the back of her horse, her
face pressed against his sweat-dampened coat. They moved at a ground-covering
pace, but her body seemed numb to the abuse. All except her head, she mused
with regret, which throbbed with each hoof-beat. She could not see Leith so she
could only assume that he was in a similar ignominious position just out of
view. The thought that he might be dead was one she forcibly rejected.
The
strong keep of the MacGuins came into her limited range of vision, and the
horses slowed their pace. Her heart sank for, once inside the gates, it would
be nearly impossible to escape. Though no soldier, she easily recognized the
strength of the place as a fortress and a prison. There was no doubt in her
mind that she and Leith would be ransomed, but even the shortest term of
imprisonment made her quake. Was her disguise still intact, she fretted, and,
if it was, how long would it remain? She had heard enough to know how she would
be treated if these fierce Highland raiders discovered that one of the lads
they held was really a lass.
“So,
ye be awake. Weel, I will wager all the fight has been ridden out of ye,
laddie.”
Her
eyes closed briefly in relief then she glared at the burly, dark man who was
untying her bonds. He looked nothing like a man who would cut a man’s heart out
without a blink, but she was wiser now. She did not trust so easily, especially
not in her own opinions. After all, she had felt that her father’s love was
secure and she had been proven painfully wrong.
