Surrendering to her Highland Captor (Highlands’ Lost Legacies #2)

Prologue

PROLOGUE

M usic from inside the Great Hall filtered out through the open windows and followed Taryn outside. Guilt gnawed on her as she climbed onto her horse and rode away from the courtyard. She didn’t know how to explain to Sorcha that it had been a relief when one of the other men on patrol ended his shift. All she had managed to do was volunteer to fill the gap and rush outside as quickly as she could. She felt like an awful friend.

Aila’s wedding feast had taken up the entire day, though the music had only started two hours ago. And while Taryn couldn’t be happier for Aila, she still felt suffocated by her own regrets.

“It was nae supposed to be this way,” she murmured to her horse as they trudged into the forest together.

While scanning the trees, Taryn let her thoughts wander. This should have been a time for celebration. They had fought off the English and won, rebuilt the castle and village, discovered more of Lachlan’s missing clan, and now he and Aila were married. She had even been given a new dress for the occasion.

It had been years since Taryn’s bright blonde hair had been braided and pinned in such an intricate fashion. The pale pink was stunning against her sun kissed skin as it clung to her ribs before flaring out dramatically from her hips, making her blue eyes pop.

But she was still unsettled. So many of their fears had been dealt with, including young Arran making a full recovery from his illness. Taryn was more than pleased with the way things had turned out.

Never before had she felt so strong, so capable as when she was fighting against the British soldiers who had come to claim the Kincaid Castle and all its occupants. She had become a part of the castle life in a way that went far beyond embroidering pillowcases and arranging flowers. Yet as she had spent the day watching the love for Aila shine in Lachlan’s eyes, she couldn’t help but feel bitter. It could never be the same for her. She knew that well enough.

Her jealousy didn’t come from wanting Lachlan himself. In truth, she didn’t even entirely trust him just yet. But Aila did, and that had been enough to convince Taryn he was a good man. No, what bothered Taryn more than anything was the harsh reality of knowing she could never have what Aila and Lachlan did.

She would spend her life running from her past, praying it didn’t catch up to her. Despite her sour mood, even Taryn had to admit that a life on the run was better than a life spent trapped with the cruel English lord her parents had arranged for her to marry.

She let out a deep sigh.

“Three years is such a long time to still be consumed by this,” she told her trusted beast. “But how can I allow my life to move forward when I am constantly stuck in the past?”

The horse didn’t answer her, but the shadows seemingly did. They danced in front of her, carrying faces of the loved ones she left behind long ago. Taryn shut her eyes against the painful reminder of just why she would never have a wedding feast of her own.

Aila had happily managed to find someone to settle down and build a life with. Sorcha could too if she so wished. But Taryn knew that the longer she stayed in one place, around the same people, the greater the risk she posed to them. It was unlikely that the baron would ever give up his search for her, his pride too wounded to do so.

She let out a string of curses that would have turned her mother’s face red. It wasn’t fair what her parents had done to her, what they had asked of her. By promising her to a man without considering who he was outside of the connections and the affluence he had, they had effectively deprived her of any chance at happiness.

“Marry the Baron, or dinnae marry at all. What kind of parents do that to their only daughter?”

Again, the horse offered no reply. She let out another deep sigh and kept moving. She had promised Sorcha that she would run the patrols as well as any of the others had. After all, Taryn had been out on her own for the past three years. A midnight ride through the woods was nothing she couldn’t handle.

For the better part of the next hour, Taryn did everything she could to get her mind away from any thoughts of the future and the family she left behind. She tried to ignore the pining in her heart for something more than a life on the run. She had known three years ago during her escape that there would be no going back, that her options were to run or be married to a wicked man.

Nothing had changed, and sulking about in the dark over it wasn’t going to change anything either. Yet try as she might, she couldn’t get the image of Aila giggling over some shared secret Lachlan had whispered in her ear while they had danced tonight out of her mind.

“Berries,” she heaved in relief.

She had never thought that the sight of the wine colored fruits would bring her so much joy, but they were the perfect distraction.

“Surely, Sorcha will nae mind if I stop to collect some for the children. It has been quiet these past few months. It is only her sense of overprotection that is insistent of these patrols,” Taryn reasoned, as if her horse were the one she had to convince.

Slipping out of her saddle and landing on the snow with a crunch, Taryn happily let her thoughts drift to the children.

It had been a complete and total shock to see Aila racing through the trees with three children clutching onto her from atop Knight. That night felt like it was a lifetime ago, despite the fact that it was not even a year ago that it had all happened.

Since then, Taryn had bonded with Christopher and Elsie and Arran too in a way that she had long given up hope for. They were likely to be her only chance at having a family, no matter how fleeting the season turned out to be.

Beyond her desire for a meaningful love, Taryn wanted more than anything to keep the children safe. They had already suffered so much from the cruel realities of life in the Highlands that Taryn longed to do anything and everything she could to see them filled with joyful childhoods that lasted as long as she could make them.

That meant even climbing from her horse in the middle of the night, in the midst of her patrol so that she could pick berries they would be able to enjoy with their breakfast.

Unlike her, the children had been thrilled at the prospect of a wedding in the castle. Elsie had asked more questions than usual and fawned over the dress Taryn had made her for the special occasion. Arran had taken it all seriously, as he was prone to do. And while Christopher tried to maintain his cool aloofness, he too was entranced by the celebrations. It would likely be a late morning for everyone, but the berries would keep all the same.

“I only wish I had brought a better bag for them than this,” Taryn remarked as she plucked more fruit off the bramble and stuck them in one of her saddlebags.

At the very least, it was a distraction. Lost in her thoughts about the children, she was no longer considering her future life. That was the lie she tried to tell herself anyway.

Taryn bent to gather the rest of the berries from the bush when a branch snapped. She shot up, her eyes darting across the shadows. Her hand rested on the hilt of her dagger, but she made no effort to move. Her heart slammed into her ribs, calling back every fear she had carried for the last three years.

The English have returned. Or someone has seen the wanted sketches and come to claim their reward. This is it. My last night with my family, and I spent it sulking.

The seconds passed by painstakingly slowly. When no other sound came, when no man burst through the trees to grab her, Taryn let out the breath she had been holding. The cold steel of her dagger pressed against the clammy skin of her palm. In the other hand, squashed berries dropped their juices onto her sleeve, staining her fingers and fabric blue.

“Och, what a mess I have made over something as harmless as a rabbit on a midnight run.”

Kneeling, Taryn wiped the mess off her hand on the grass. She resigned herself to the fact that the children would simply have to share the berries in the morning. Working to get the last of the juice off, she thought idly that perhaps they would want to explore the woods and pick berries for themselves.

She smiled at the image of Elsie with more berries than the boys, her craftiness giving her the upper hand. Having decided that she would offer the excursion in the morning, Taryn stood and reached for the reins, ready to continue her patrol.

“Still in the habit of talking to yerself, I see.”

Before Taryn could turn to discover the owner of the dark voice behind her, something hard and heavy wrapped around her waist, pinning her arms to her side.

“Let me go!”

With every huff of air, Taryn contorted her body, throwing her head back to collide with her attacker’s nose before throwing her elbow into his gut as hard as she could. He let out a satisfying grunt. She tried to run as fast as she could while he was distracted with his own pain.

Her small victory didn’t last very long, however, as his arms reached out and pulled her back towards him once more. She hadn’t even heard the sound of his footsteps behind her before she was trapped once again. The moon had disappeared behind the clouds, leaving her without her sight or sense of direction. Her only chance was to get away from the man and hide until sunrise.

Using every bit of training she had gained over the past three years, Taryn did everything she could to get away. The only thing that changed was how tight the grip was around her ribs. It had taken only minutes before he was bruising her ribs. In a desperate, last attempt, Taryn threw her fist down, trying to hit anything within her reach.

“Oof,” he grunted.

The split second he had relaxed his grip was all Taryn needed to drop to the forest floor and out of his arms. As soon as she was free, she jumped up and started to sprint, her horse lost in the darkness of the woods.

“Get back here!” the man yelled.

She had only just begun to recognize the accent as decidedly Scottish and the drifting smell of rosemary and cedar that cut through the pine trees before something underfoot tripped her. She let out a string of curses as she fell.

Her head landed first, striking what she could only assume was a rock from the unyielding surface and cold. The world spun, forcing her to forget that she was laying in the snow. It took all of her might to roll onto her hands and knees without falling again.

With a gentle hand, she probed the back of her head, unsure if the wetness there was from the snow, the smashed berries, or blood. She didn’t have time to think about it.

He had found her again and was hauling her up. Any fight she might have had left in her was spent trying to force her roiling stomach to calm. Her eyes grew heavier and heavier, her limbs taking too much energy to hold.

“I have been looking for ye for a verra long time,” the man murmured, unaware that consciousness was slipping from her. “Ye have nay idea how happy I am to see ye again.”