Three #3
She had a ship to meet. She didn’t have time to be kidnapped.
He subdued the horses some twenty feet from her and jumped to the ground. Dropping the reins on the lathered horses, he turned to her.
Constance clambered to her feet, prepared to defend herself with the rock in her hand. “Stop right there,” she ordered.
He didn’t listen. He kept coming. He looked very strong, very tall, and very angry in the night, a rope in his right hand.
She threw the rock as hard as she could. Rock throwing had worked for David against Goliath.
It didn’t work for her.
Her rock bounced off his chest and he kept coming.
She turned to run, but in a blink he was beside her, his hand closing around her wrist like a steel band. “You could have killed my man back there,” he said. “Or yourself with that wild riding.”
Constance had a stab of conscience. She had been rough on Robbie. “I have the right to escape,” she defended herself.
“It’s unfortunate for you that you didn’t,” he answered, his voice silky tight.
His men, Robbie on the back of Brian’s horse, came riding up to join them.
The giant, Thomas, said, “I’m tired of this merry chase. Tie her up and be done with her.”
“Aye,” Mr. Lachlan agreed. “We’ll not trust her again.” He walked toward his horse, dragging her when she refused to follow.
Constance was furious at the amused faces of the men on the horses. Mr. Lachlan was going to carry her off to wherever he wished and she’d miss her ship.
She decided to tell him the truth. “Please, I mustn’t go with you,” she said.
“I have a ship to board. It’s leaving from Edinburgh in four days.
” She twisted her arm, to no avail. “I want to go home. I don’t want to stay here any longer.
I hate Britain. I hate England. I hate Scotland.
It’s cold, it’s damp, and it’s ugly. And I’m not too fond of you, either. ”
Mr. Lachlan stopped, a tall, golden-haired warrior of a man in the moonlight. “Then we have something in common, lass, because I’m far from finding you attractive. As for leaving, you can go anywhere you like, after Colster gives me my sword.”
“Your sword? What sword?”
“The Sword of the MacKenna. Colster has it and I want it back.” He looked to his men before saying, “And it is not just the sword. I’m ransoming you for the freedom of my people.
Now do you understand, lass? I don’t care what you hate or what you think or what you feel.
I have hungry mouths to feed and a need for justice burning so deep within me, I’d go to hell and back for the sake of it.
So resign yourself. You are staying with me.
When Colster gives me what I want, then you are free to go.
You can set sail to the moon for all I care. ”
“Once he claims me, he won’t let me leave,” Constance protested. “My sister Charlotte will make me stay.”
“That’s not my problem, Miss Constance Cameron.” His accent clipped the syllables of her last name, infusing it with complete dislike.
Constance threw aside all pride. “You can let me go and tell him you have me.”
“I won’t lie,” he said. “I’m a man of honor.”
And that’s when she realized she was nothing more than a chore to him.
She didn’t matter…any more than she mattered to her sisters Charlotte and Miranda now that they were married. No one understood what she wanted, or cared.
That didn’t mean she had to swallow their disdain. Not as long as she had any fight left in her.
Constance curled her hands into claws and went after Mr. Lachlan screaming like a banshee.
But her resistance was a pitiful thing in the face of his superior strength.
He took her by both wrists, easily keeping out of reach of her kicking feet.
He was going to make her do as he wished.
She was going to miss her ship. She was going to miss her chance to return home, and instead be trapped in England forever.
Worse, his men were laughing at her. Her anger amused them.
Constance lost all reason. She reacted. She spat at Mr. Lachlan, the most deadly insult a frontiersman could pay.
His men’s laughter stopped.
Her aim had been true. She’d hit his jaw.
A glint sharper than the point of her knife came to his eyes. He rubbed the spittle off with his shoulder before yanking her close, her hands against his chest. His body was hot with anger. He smelled of the night air and male.
“That’s the way, Gordon. Don’t take that from her,” Thomas said. The others growled their agreement.
Constance shut her eyes, holding her breath. This wouldn’t be the first time she’d been hit. Her father had struck his daughters religiously. She knew how to take a slap.
Gordon Lachlan ordered, “Open your eyes.”
She didn’t want to see the blow coming, but refused to take the coward’s way. She raised her lashes, meeting his gaze with a steady one of her own, even though her knees threatened to buckle from fear.
“You’ve made me very angry, Miss Constance,” he said. “No one disrespects the name Lachlan. Not without paying a price.”
And then he did something she had not anticipated.
He kissed her.