For a moment,Elijah forgot why he was here. Forgot the plan. Forgot everything except the feel of this woman in his arms andthe way his heart had kicked hard against his ribs when she’d looked up at him.
What in God’sname is wrong with me?
“Please,”she whispered, and the sound of her voice—terrified but not broken—did something strange to his chest. “Please, let me go…”
“There ye are, ye little bitch!”
The other laird—Elijahdidn’t know his name and didn’t care—burst through the trees on his gray horse. His face was red with fury, and he had blood on his hand.
She had bitten him,Elijah realized, and had to suppress a smile.
Good for her.
“Let her go,”the man snarled, sliding off his horse. “She’s mine. I was chasin’ her first.”
Elijah’s armstightened around the lass instinctively. She stiffened against him, but didn’t pull away. Couldn’t, probably. She was trapped between him and the other man.
“I daenae think so,”Elijah said, his voice cold. “Accordin’ to the rules of yer twisted little game, if ye fail to claim yer prey and another catches her, she belongs to the new hunter.” He lookedthe other man up and down with contempt. “Ye failed. She’s mine now.”
“Like hell she is!”The man took a step forward. “I tracked her for ten minutes! She’s mine by right!”
“Ye tracked her and lost her,”Elijah corrected. “And apparently got bit for yer troubles. That’s nae claimin’, friend. That’s failin’.”
The lassin his arms trembled. Elijah could feel every shudder, every frightened breath.
Partof him wanted to tell her the truth—that he was here to save her, not harm her. That this entire hunt was about to be destroyed, its organizers arrested or worse.
But he couldn’t.Not yet. Not with this fool in front of him who might ruin everything.
“I’m nae yer friend,”the man spat. “And I’m nae lettin’ ye take what’s mine. We’ll fight for her. Winner takes the prize.”
Prize.
The word madeElijah’s blood boil. This woman wasn’t a prize. She was a person. A terrified, brave person who’d been sold into this nightmare.
“Fine,”Elijah said. He looked down at the lass in his arms. Up close, she was even more beautiful. Soft curves that made his hands itch to explore. Full lips that he had no business thinking about. And eyes, gray as a winter storm, that held pain and strength in equal measure. “Stay here. This willnae take long.”
He set her down gently,and she stumbled back against a tree. Her gaze darted between him and the other laird, calculating her chances of escape.
“Daenae even think about it,”the other man warned her. “Ye run, and whoever wins will make ye pay for it.”
Elijah said nothing,but he stepped between the lass and her pursuer. Let the bastard think what he wanted. In a few minutes, it wouldn’t matter.
“Ready?”the other laird asked, drawing a short sword from his belt.
Elijah drew his own blade.“Aye. Are ye?”
The man attacked first—awild, reckless swing that Elijah sidestepped easily.
No training at all.
Elijah was almost disappointed.
This really willnae take long.
The laird swung again,putting all his strength behind it. Elijah parried, the clash of steel ringing through the forest. Behind him, he heard the lass gasp.
“Stay back,”Elijah ordered without looking at her. “Daenae want ye catchin’ a stray blade.”
