Claimed By the Dark Highlander (Lasses of the Highland Hunt #5)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

“There’s one here!” a man called over his shoulder, echoing down the staircase to the bottom of the tower. “We found a girl!”

Amelia glared at him, her hands tightening in front of her. She was exhausted, her body ready to give out, but she wouldn’t allow them to continue the horrific treatment she’d been experiencing.

Dependin’ on how many of them there are, I may be able to escape again. Slip past them and get down the stairs. I just have to convince them to free me from these chains.

Heavy footsteps echoed up the stairs, each one harder than the last. A man spoke before she could see him, his voice deep, authoritative. “So those bastards abandoned one up here.”

Her breath caught when he entered the room. His figure was imposing, taller than the man he pushed past, his heavy boots hitting the stone flooring with a resounding thud. When he stopped, his cloak swung with the momentum. His piercing blue eyes found hers through his unruly blond hair.

It was as if even the walls recognized his strength and stood taller. The stillness of his body felt dangerous. He seemed like the kind of man who decided the fates of others without hesitation.

Is he the one they determined to be the winner? Has he come to collect his prize?

She wouldn’t allow him to decide her fate.

In an act of desperation that bordered on feral, Amelia pushed herself to her feet, the shackles around her wrists cutting deeper into her skin. With gritted teeth, she took a step forward, the chains straining against the wall. She wouldn’t be caught sitting down, not against this man.

He held her gaze for a beat before looking around the room. Then, the low timber of his voice came again. “This room doesnae look as if it’s been touched since the hunt ended. Do ye ken how long ye’ve been here, lass?”

She glowered at him, her jaw tightening. Even if she knew for sure, she wouldn’t tell him. The days had run together in a blur of damp air and cold stone. It had been less than a month and certainly more than a week, but she’d stopped keeping track when the men keeping her captive had disappeared.

And shouldnae he ken? Or perhaps he’s waited so long to retrieve me that he’s lost track of the weeks, too.

“She must have survived because of this wee thing,” the first man said, stepping close enough to her to tap the nearly empty bucket of water with his boot.

Amelia snarled, refusing to move, worried that if she did, he’d knock over her only source of hydration. She’d measured it out painstakingly, rationing what had been left. She wouldn’t have these intruders knocking over her lifeline.

“Nay food, though,” the taller man said, walking over to the moldy bag of barley that had made her sick just the day before. “Ye must be starvin’.”

Her eyes narrowed, her entire body coiling as they both got closer. She flexed her toes, testing the strength in her feet. If this is where she was to meet her end, she’d ensure they didn’t make it out unmarred.

When her stomach growled, loud and telling of the hunger that gnawed at her ribs, the man stepped closer.

He wasn’t looking at her face, though. Instead, he was focused on the bruises, her elbows that stuck out too far, her prominent collarbones.

She stood up straighter, fragile being the last thing she wanted to be seen as.

“What’s yer name?” he asked, his tone shifting when he spoke to her, softening like he was speaking to an injured animal.

Amelia made a show of hardening her jaw. The only weapon she had aside from her feet was her silence. He hadn’t earned her name, not when the only thing he’d done was walk into the tower as if he were in charge of everything, including her.

And if they didnae tell him me name, that is nae me problem to solve.

When he spoke again, his voice was more authoritative. “Ye can talk, can ye nae? Why daenae ye tell me yer name, lass?”

She was unmoving. It didn’t matter if this man was used to being obeyed and getting what he wanted. He wouldn’t be getting this.

The second man approached then, moving quickly and startling her. Amelia jerked back, the chains rattling loudly, the cuffs nearly drawing blood. “Daenae touch me,” she hissed, the words strained, her voice thin from disuse.

He stopped. Then, slowly raising his hands as a show of peace, he took a step back. On her other side, the taller man made a sound in the back of his throat that was halfway between surprise and amusement.

“Stand down,” he said. Then, he looked over his shoulder at the doorway. “Ye as well. Daenae overwhelm her.”

The other men stepped away, but Amelia didn’t look at a single one of them. Her gaze was fixed on the one who was clearly in charge. Distrust wound itself tighter in her chest, waiting for him to state his true purpose.

When the rest of the men positioned themselves against the wall, the leader spoke slowly, clearly under the impression that she was something fragile. “Ye’re safe now.”

Men like him daenae appear without takin’ somethin’.

A short breath that was almost a laugh escaped her. She held his bright blue gaze as she told him, “Safe’s a lie.”

* * *

The words hung in the cool air between them. The girl believed them wholeheartedly, Darragh realized as he studied her. Their rescue didn’t seem like one to her; it was simply an intrusion.

Taking a small step back, he tried again, asking, “What do they call ye?”

“Who are ye to ask?” she retorted, unflinching despite the bags beneath her eyes or the straw at her feet that had been flattened from sleepless nights.

“Ye’re correct, lass,” he said after a beat, realizing that he had no right to claim he was here for her safety. This had been the tower that he’d delegated to his men weeks ago when the hunt ended. “Ye daenae ken who I am.”

The girl stared up at him with poorly concealed contempt. Her chin was held high as though she were challenging him. She said, “It’s rude to ask for someone’s name without givin’ yer own.”

“I am Laird Darragh Fraser of Clan Fraser,” he said, his voice steady. “I am the chief of these lands.”

The expression on her face didn’t falter. If anything, the clear distrust deepened, her grey-green eyes narrowing. She exhaled harshly, blowing a strand of unkept brown hair from in front of her face.

“I will see ye cared for now,” he told her firmly, a promise to both the girl and himself. He’d make up for inadvertently prolonging her suffering. “I’m removin’ yer chains now. I’m goin’ to take ye somewhere with food and water and a bed that’s nae made of dry straw.”

He didn’t wait for a response, knowing that he wasn’t going to get one anyway. Grabbing a loose stone he’d spotted when he walked in, he positioned himself next to the anchor on the wall. In one precise, powerful strike, he dislodged the iron piece.

Almost immediately upon being freed, she lurched forward.

Darragh was ready for it, though. He grabbed onto the chain, feeling nearly as bad as the men who’d put her in this place when he stopped her flight.

As he rushed to her side, steadying her to keep her from falling, he dropped the iron.

It fell to the floor with a resounding clatter.

For a long moment, the only sound was the nameless woman’s labored breathing.

She glared at the ground, her disdain palpable, but she didn’t try to free herself from his hold even though he was sure that she had at least one more attempt in her.

Her energy was animalistic, feral. He’d seen trapped prey perform feats that seemed impossible.

“I told ye that I would be overseein’ yer care,” he said firmly, though not unkindly. “I cannae do that if ye run off. And even if ye did manage to get away, how would ye get those cuffs off yer wrists?”

“I would find a way,” she said, her tone guarded, her expression unreadable. “Or perhaps I’d just live with them.”

“Aye, I’m sure ye would,” Darragh said as he began to walk her toward the door, inclining his head at his gathered guards, wordlessly instructing them to get out of the way. “But me men have tools that will get them off. I’m sure that ye’ll be much more comfortable without those.”

She made a sound of acknowledgment, her feet dragging with each step they took. Her chin remained high, her back straight, as they passed the guard who remained on the stairs. This, it seemed, was the closest he’d get to agreement from her.

“Ye will,” Darragh said, his voice barely audible above the sound of the chain dragging behind them, “tell me yer name eventually, lass.”

“I will tell ye what I wish to tell ye,” she said, clipped, but Darragh noticed there was a lightness in her shoulders that hadn’t been there before.

I daenae think it’s trust, but if she’s brightened up at the prospect of a hot meal and a bit of relief from this place, that’s a victory.

“One of ye,” Darragh said, turning back to the guards who were stationed at the top of the tower’s stairs, “send word to Laird McGowan. One last woman has been found, and I’ve ensured that the land is now clear. There are nae more remnants of the hunt here.”