Held so close, it was impossible to ignore the reserves of strength in his big, powerful body. He walked with an easy stride that gave no hint that he carried a grown woman. Mhairi was unwillingly aware that in a contest of physical strength between them, she had no hope of winning.
Then be smarter than he is, lass.
She could only agree. Right now, Black Callum had all the advantages. But that mightn’t always be the case. She was clever. She was cunning. And she had one thing on her side. It was clear that he’d already judged her to be an inconsequential snippet of a female who offered no challenge to his male superiority.
So far, she was ashamed to admit she’d done nothing to prove him wrong. But somewhere soon, that overweening confidence would bring him down.
"Stop scheming, lassie," he said softly, patting her rump with infuriating casualness. "It willnae do ye a morsel of good."
Gritting her teeth, she closed her eyes against the daunting drop to the ground. That only made things worse. This close to him, that pleasant smell was overwhelming. She was absurdly conscious of his warmth.
What else did she expect? He was a denizen of hell. Of course he was hot to the touch.
"Put me down," she muttered into his back. The smooth stride upset her stomach and made her giddy.
"I cannae trust ye to walk, my lady."
"I feel sick." The admission made her pride sting.
They approached the gray horse. "You'll feel better once you're in the saddle."
"I’ll feel better once ye leave me alone. Oof!"
Strong hands caught her by the waist and plopped her onto the horse. "Hold on."
The relief of being upright and able to take a full breath cleared her fuzzy vision and restored her defiance. She swung aside to slither off the horse, but her captor was too fast. With an effortless physical mastery that in other circumstances might have impressed her, he leaped into the saddle.
Strong arms encircled her. "No’ so fast, lassie."
"Please…" she said, despising how weak she sounded. But so far impertinence had gained her nothing. "Let me go. I've done ye no harm. Just dinna…dinna take me away with ye."
His silence gave her hope that humility had succeeded where overt resistance had failed.
"It's too late, lassie." He sounded almost regretful. "I've got ye. I intend to keep ye. Too much is at stake to set you free."
"If it’s money ye want, my father will pay to get me back."
"Your father?"
Her tone hardened. "Och, ye ken just who I am. My father will pursue ye to the ends of the earth for what you've done. Ye invite more strife than you can imagine, Mackinnon."
"I dinna ken about that. I'm blessed with a powerful vivid imagination."
How on earth did that manage to sound suggestive? She hid a shiver. "Then ye must ken nae sensible man would take on the Drummonds like this. The theft of the laird's daughter is an insult my father will never countenance."
"Whisht, lassie. The deed is done. Ye willnae talk me out of it."
"Ye can still let me go."
"No, I cannae." He urged the horse to a trot that jolted her uncomfortably against his body. She’d give anything not to touch him, but crushed together on horseback, it was impossible to avoid contact.
"You’re facing a world of trouble," she said, as her tied hands dug into the horse's thick mane.
To her surprise, that summoned a deep chuckle that vibrated through her back in a disturbing fashion. "Och, ye dinna have to tell me that. I knew ye were trouble the moment I set eyes on you."
That wasn’t what she meant. She referred to armed reprisals from her family. But she seized the opening. "Then take the easy road and release me."
"The easy road isnae always the best. I'm sorry, lassie."