The Highlander's Defiant Captive (The Lairds Most Likely 4)

The Mackinnon appeared at ease, as if John hadn't just slung a challenge at him. "I dinnae want the Drummond's gold, sir. I've already got his greatest treasure. Return to your chieftain and tell him that Bonny Mhairi is henceforth the Rose of Achnasheen."

Mhairi bit back a protest at his announcement. The possibility of violence hovered too close.

John's head bobbed in a bow that conveyed an ocean of contempt. "I'll take the news back to Bruard, if I can trust ye to let me go in peace."

The Mackinnon's lips tightened. "Aye, leave in the morning and tell that stubborn old man that he needs to recognize that there will be a new way in the glens."

John's eyes narrowed on the Mackinnon. Her cousin’s self-assurance was an insult in itself. Mhairi had cause to be grateful that he wasn't armed.

"All the Drummond will recognize is that you've snatched away his daughter and turned her mind and heart from her home and kin. Aye, I'll go tomorrow, but I'll return with an army. See how grand ye feel when you start counting Mackinnon dead as the price of your presumption."

Chapter 17

Mhairi stirred from a heavy sleep. Someone was standing beside her bed.

"Callum?" she murmured, opening bleary eyes to candlelit darkness. Outside, it wouldn't be completely dark, but the shutters were closed to keep the light from the room.

"No, curse ye, no’ Callum," a sharp female voice replied.

In an instant, the mists of sleep vanished, and she jerked up against the pillows in swift wariness. "Sheena? How on earth did ye get up here?"

The dancing had gone on late. John had stayed to watch, along with the rest of her sour-faced kinsmen. He hadn't tried to talk to her again, just glowered at her as she danced set after set with the Mackinnon, the wild music keeping pace with the excited rush of her blood.

At first it had surprised her how well she and Black Callum moved together. But soon the thrill of dancing with such a perfect partner chased away her doubts, and she'd jigged and jumped and whirled with the best of them. And laughed. An almost frenzied gaiety had gripped her as she stared into the Mackinnon’s glittering eyes and given herself up to the driving rhythms.

When Sheena woke her, she'd been dreaming of Callum. The details faded, but her skin was warm and her heart still thudded with excitement. She had a shameful feeling that the dreams had involved his hands on her body and that clever mouth on hers. She shivered with wicked pleasure as she remembered how he’d kissed her arm in the rose garden. Wicked, forbidden pleasure, because even sparing a thought to how attractive she found the Laird of Achnasheen was a heinous betrayal of her father.

"I promised to help ye get away." The girl was dressed in a plain gray gown, and the candle she held lent her pretty features a sinister air that did nothing to soothe Mhairi’s disquiet.

"Get away?" Mhairi repeated and wondered why her immediate reaction was dismay. From the start, her goal had been to escape Achnasheen and its intriguing master.

"What's going on?" Flossie asked in a voice thick with sleep. She lay on a pallet bed in the corner.

With a snarl, Sheena turned on the maid. Likely she resented Flossie for replacing

her as lady’s maid to the Mackinnon's chosen bride. "I'm here to get the Drummond bitch out of the castle."

Mhairi barely flinched at the insult. "Are ye coming, Flossie?"

"No’ on your life. No’ ever." The girl sat up and clutched the sheet to her chest. "And I'd think twice before I set out alone with a besom who called me such awfu’ names."

Flossie had a point. But without her bitter hatred, Sheena wouldn’t be willing to take the risk of helping Mhairi. If the Mackinnon ever learned of Sheena’s treachery, life in the scullery would become a pleasant memory.

Mhairi rolled out of bed, digging her toes into the carpet. "Dinnae betray me. You promised ye wouldnae."

Even in the dim light, Mhairi could see that Flossie was torn. Eventually she gave a reluctant nod. "I willnae betray ye. But I still think this is a daft thing to do. Last night ye looked so happy. I hoped…"

"That I'd marry the Mackinnon?" She wanted to sound sarcastic, as if the idea was outlandish in the extreme. Instead she cursed the note of regret that seeped into her question.

A pox on the Mackinnon, she had nothing to regret. She’d spent the last days determined to escape her captivity. Now she had the opportunity to go, and she meant to take it. Once she was home again, she’d settle back into her role as her father’s darling and forget the turmoil and confusion that tormented her in the enemy’s castle.

Flossie, plague take her, wasn’t relinquishing her impossible hopes. "And why no’? He's a good man, and he loves ye."

Love…

That one potent word set Mhairi's heart banging against her ribs and made her feel dizzy. "No, he doesnae." She cursed the shake in her voice. "I'm just a means to an end."

"Aye, if ye say so," Flossie said, sounding unconvinced.