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

"I willnae sit beside a Mackinnon."

If his plans came to fruition, she’d be doing more with a Mackinnon than just sitting beside him. "Brave words for someone who's spent the last few hours cuddling up against me."

She'd held herself as stiff as a board until exhaustion had her drooping onto his chest. When she forgot to fight him, she was soft in his arms. Surprising how natural it felt to hold Mhairi Drummond in his embrace. He hadn't cooked up this desperate scheme for his own pleasure, but a laddie would need to be blind to miss how perfectly the name of Bonny Mhairi fitted her.

She was so pretty that the first time he saw her up close, his heart had stuttered to a stop. The small slender body, the skin as white as a swan's wing, the bright blue eyes flashing defiance. And her wild mass of rich red hair tied back in an untidy plait. As they rode, that hair had tickled his neck. It was as silky as it looked, and he'd had to fight the urge to bury his face in it.

"Well, let me put it this way—I willnae willingly sit beside a Mackinnon."

My God, she was headstrong. The stinging cut on his arm proved that this was no pliable lassie, eager to cooperate out of fear of her captor. But Callum couldn't help admiring this wildcat who spat and hissed at him. In truth, she’d need her courage before she was done.

"Och, lassie, if that's how ye feel, you'll get awfu’ tired before you're done at Achnasheen," he said dryly.

The light was bright enough for him to gauge her expression. She looked calm and intractable. Odd that her beauty held no hint of softness as she glared at him. He was used to easy lassies who were all generosity and acquiescence, no sharp edges.

"Dinnae ye dare mock me, Mackinnon." Loathing dripped from her low words. "It’s a braw thing you've done, snatching a couple of innocent women away from their home and terrorizing them. By heaven, the bards will be writing ballads into the next century about your unsurpassed valor."

A short laugh escaped him. "Are ye trying to shame me into taking you back?"

The fierce expression didn't ease. "I wouldnae waste my time, when I know ye ha

ve no shame."

"You're damn free with insults for a lassie tied up like a calf for market and a long way from home. Are ye no’ afraid at all?"

She squared her shoulders and raised her chin. He waited for more braggadocio, but her answer surprised him. "I’m nae fool, Mackinnon. Only a fool wouldnae be afraid."

He frowned. "I said ye were safe. I promise you’ll receive treatment meet for your name and status as a chieftain's daughter."

Her contempt for that statement was clear. "Aye, and I'm to pay attention to the biggest liar of a lying race telling me another lie?"

"I'm generally considered a man of my word," he said gently.

"For a Mackinnon, ye probably are," she snapped.

He gave another huff of appreciative laughter. "A smart woman might wonder if a more conciliatory attitude could improve her chances."

It was her turn to shrug. "You'll do whatever ye want to me, nae matter what I say."

Sadly for her, it was true. "It might go easier on ye if you dinnae fight me every step."

"I'll fight ye to my dying day, you bastard."

Callum hid a sigh. He had a grim feeling she meant it. "You're no’ what I expected."

"You are," she snarled.

He ignored that. "The stories I heard said ye were blithe and kind." Those tales of her good nature had led him to imagine that the Drummond heiress was a sweet little nonentity. He couldn’t have been more wrong. This girl – woman – was made to lead armies.

"If you're disappointed, ye can easily return me to my father."

Callum subjected her to a long inspection that swept from the top of her ruffled head to the delicate feet peeping out from under her ankle-length skirts. He let himself smile. "Och, lassie, I wouldnae say I'm disappointed. No’ by a long shot."

To his surprise, her expression froze and she faltered back. "I cannae stop what's going to happen," she said in a flat voice. "But ye have made a lifelong enemy, Mackinnon. I’ll have my revenge. Whatever misery you bring down on me, I will rain down on ye a hundredfold."

Her threat should sound absurd. She was unarmed and in his power, not to mention a foot shorter than he was.

But he heard the implacable promise in her voice and wondered not for the first time, whether this scheme would succeed. Even if it did, was the price he—and she—paid worth it?