Chapter 4
Amara hit the ground with teeth-jarring impact. Her breath lodged in her throat, but she jumped up and ran for the closest corpse of trees. The branches whipped past her face and ripped at her clothing. Her breathing was sharp and shallow as her heart pounded wildly beneath her breast.
She didn’t get far.
Amara let out a scream of frustration when a large hand gripped the back of her neck an instant before an arm snaked around her middle, effectively halting her escape. She was pulled back against a hard chest, a powerful, unharmed muscled arm holding her in place.
“Let me go!” she ordered furiously. Amara leaned forward, intending to take a bite out of Rhys’s arm, but another heavy arm rose and landed right at her throat. Not enough to cause pain, but definitely enough to keep her from bending her head.
“Nay, ye willnae be takin’ a chunk of this flesh,” Rhys said, his mouth close to her ear.
His breath was warm as it floated by her skin.
Amara sucked her breath in sharply, feeling his breath and deep voice travel all the way to her toes.
She repressed a shudder of awareness and started thrashing in his arms, trying to break his hold.
“Enough, lass,” he said. She was a bit surprised that his voice was so calm, almost gentle. But she wasn’t fooled. She was his prisoner, and she had to keep that uppermost in her mind. “Ye’ll hurt yerself, or worse, runnin’ around blind like that. Now stop thrashing!”
“Better than bein’ dragged around like a sack of grain by the sorry likes of ye!” Amara retorted a second before he turned her to face him. She got a brief glance of his handsome, determined face, before he tossed her over his broad shoulder.
“P— put me down!” she shrieked, her voice muffled as her forehead hit his lower back. He grunted as her thrashing landed a blow to his side, but he didn’t pause as he strode back toward his stallion.
Amara braced her hands on his back and lifted her head. It was hard to see through her braid that had fallen in front of her, but she got a quick look at William and Myles, sitting patiently atop their horses, each wearing an amused look. Her hands slipped and her head plopped back down.
“She looks like a wet hen bein’ taken to market,” Myles remarked, his expression flat.
“With sharper teeth,” William scowled, then grinned. “And expensive ribbons.”
Myles chuckled, “Just look at her still tryin’ to get free, Billy.”
“She should be careful. Next, she’ll be tied to the horse.”
“Facing backward,” Myles suggested.
“Barefoot,” William added. “I find meself curious to see what she tries next.”
Rhys, halfway through swinging Amara into the saddle, growled and tossed over his shoulder, “Say another word, either of ye, and ye can ride tied up with her.”
William and Myles instantly quieted. Rhys grunted in what she supposed was satisfaction then swung up behind Amara in the saddle. His arms caged her on either side as he grabbed the reins, and they started riding again.
Amara opened her mouth to argue then decided to save her breath, and her strength.
Nothing she said was going to get through his thick head anyway.
Besides, she suddenly found herself robbed of breath and voice as the heat from his chest seeped into her back.
She was keenly aware of his arms so close to the sides of her breasts and was shocked and amazed at how they suddenly swelled at tightened at his nearness.
What is wrong with me? He’s me enemy and he’s kidnapped me!
But it obviously didn’t matter to her body. Amara remembered the way he’d looked the night of the feast. How she’d been so drawn to his dark looks, the way his black hair curled at the ends, just as it still did. How his deep brown eyes had scanned the festivities, sharp and alert.
She remembered how her mother had chastised her for staring at him, but she’d not been able to help it then. He’d been the only man to spark any kind of interest in her, and apparently, that spark was still there.
His powerful thighs caged hers against the saddle while his chest pressed against her back and his arms encircled her upper body as he steered his stallion.
She was truly trapped. His body wrapped around hers.
The heat pouring off him, into her from their contact, was both comforting and alarming.
She’d been so cold, it was all she could do not to lean into him just to share his warmth.
“Ye’ve gone quiet, lass,” Myles called out, his words thankfully jerking her from her inappropriate thoughts. “All that barkin’ gone soft now that ye’re nestled in our laird’s arms?”
Rhys chuckled, his warm breath teasing the top of her head. Amara stiffened.
“She looks…” William paused as he thought about what he was going to say. “Peaceful. Aye, she looks calm and peaceful.”
Amara bristled. “I’m plottin’,” she snapped. “Silently. And with great detail.”
A round of male laughter echoed around her. Amara scowled. Her intent had not been to be a source of amusement for them.
“There’s the lass we ken,” William chuckled.
Everyone fell into silence for the next couple of hours.
As the sun started its decent, Amara felt hope and desperation rise in her chest. She needed to escape.
She knew she could be foolish at times, taking risks she shouldn’t, but even Amara knew that to try and escape in the dark was too dangerous.
Anything could happen in the cover of night. She could be attacked by an animal, or a human. But the opportunity to get away was quickly slipping away.
And then it was gone.
The sun disappeared behind the hills and night fell as they made camp near a small stream a bit off the path they’d been riding.
Amara couldn’t wait to get away from Rhys and his disturbingly addicting heat.
He dismounted then reached up and helped her down.
As soon as her feet touched the ground, she took several quick steps away.
Rhys didn’t say anything, he just gave her a look, one eyebrow raised in what looked like amusement.
She raised her chin and met his gaze, silently cursing as she felt heat climb from her throat to stain her cheeks.
At least he didn’t remark on her blush, but that didn’t take away the stain of shame.
Rhys grabbed her upper arm and led her toward the clearing where Myles was already setting up a space for the campfire, while William was out gathering wood and kindling.
“Are ye just daft enough to try yer luck at escaping at night, or do I need to bind ye?” Rhys asked once they’d stopped walking.
She glared up at him, then sighed. She would not be going anywhere tonight, and he apparently knew it.
“Nay,” she said, her voice low.
He studied her for a moment, as if trying to read the truth there. Then, he nodded and let go of her arm. Even though it didn’t hurt, Amara immediately rubbed the area. The heat of his touch lingered and she wasn’t entirely comfortable with it.
Rhys walked to his horse and retrieved his saddle bag and a rolled blanket.
He went to Amara and wrapped the blanket over her shoulders.
She stared at him, her mouth gaping open in surprise.
She’d not expected him to be so gentlemanly.
Grabbing the edges of the blanket, she pulled it tighter around her and held the ends together at her throat.
She stood there uncomfortably, unsure what to do as her eyes traced the movements of the men as they made camp.
Had this been her clan, she would have been doing whatever she could to help.
She didn’t like doing nothing and preferred to keep herself busy.
But she was their prisoner, and she was not going to make anything easier on them.
The fire, she realized was just for warmth.
There’d be no hot meal this night. William passed out cheese, bread, and some nuts to everyone, herself included, and they all gathered around the fire.
Amara stood where she was, not wanting to get any closer to them than she had to.
Even though her thighs were starting to shake begging for the relief of sitting down, she remained standing.
The stars were bright, shining like little lights against a black blanket. The moon wasn’t yet full, but a good-sized sliver of it shown down on them, giving a little light to the area. Her gaze shifted to the trees, tall and sinister looking at night.
“Ye could save us a great deal of trouble, lass, if ye were wantin’ to.”
Amara jerked her gaze to William who had addressed her. For answer, she raised an eyebrow and clutched her blanket tighter.
“Tell us where our kinsman, Finn, is bein’ held,” he continued.
The camp went completely quiet except for the crackling of the fire, where Myles stood, stoking it with a long stick, and some night insects calling out to each other.
“Now why would I want to do that?” she asked, tilting her head to the side.
“To prevent bloodshed.” This from the laird. He didn’t look back at her from where he sat atop his bedroll near the fire.
Amara hesitated, then stepped closer to him. She stood next to him, waiting for him to lift his head to look at her, but he didn’t.
“Yers or ours?” she smirked.
This time, he did look up at her. His expression was cold. Firelight danced in his brown eyes. “Ye need only to remember what happened six years ago to have yer answer.”
He turned back to gaze into the fire. Amara rubbed her arms, trying to rid herself of the chill that took over.
Her clan had been massacred, in their own home, and he had been the harbinger of death for so many of them.
She understood all too well what he’d meant.
It would be her people who suffered the most.