Mary and Gilly had finished changing out of their wet clothing and rejoined the men, but Flora lingered behind the welcome shelter of the rock, needing the time to collect her thoughts. Thoughts that had been in a jumble after her exchange with Lachlan a few minutes ago.
For a moment—standing so close to him, seeing the strength of his arousal, remembering the feel of him inside her, craving the intimacy of those moments—she’d nearly succumbed. She forgot everything except her need for him.
The magnitude of her response had hit her hard. She’d stared at him, wanting him…needing him. And if it hadn’t been for his reminder of where they were, she feared she might have reached out and touched him.
It was like fire between them, igniting with the barest spark. A touch. A look. A word.
What was holding her back? Was Lachlan right? Was she so scared of ending up like her mother that she would toss away a chance at happiness? She didn’t want to think so, yet his words had stung far more than she cared to admit. She told herself she was only being cautious, but what if he was right? Was she imagining deception where there was none?
She sighed and finished lacing the front of her gown. After pulling back her long damp hair, she secured it at her nape with a scrap of ribbon. Her swimming lessons were helping. Today, she’d managed to go completely under without panicking—though she never would have done it without Lachlan right beside her.
With her wet clothes secured in a bundle, she took a last look around to make sure they hadn’t forgotten anything.
Noticing one of Gilly’s hose on the ground, she bent to pick it up and heard the crack of a twig behind her. Before she could react, someone grabbed her from behind. A dirty hand covered her mouth, muffling the scream that tore from her throat.
Fear gripped her; she knew right away it wasn’t Lachlan—and that this was no game. The man, though large and strong, was not nearly as tall and solid as Lachlan. Also, he smelled—not of myrtle and soap, but of sweat and horse.
He was suffocating her, his fetid fingers digging into the tender skin of her mouth and cheeks.
His mouth fell to her ear. “Make no sound or we’ll kill them all,” he whispered, and the stench of his breath filled her nose, making her stomach turn. “It’s you we want.”
Flora could hardly believe it—she was being abducted again. She would laugh if she weren’t so terrified—and if she could move her lips.
The man started to drag her into the trees. She wanted to twist and stomp on his foot the way she had with Lachlan, but she dared not risk it. Not with Mary and Gilly so close. She prayed they were far enough away.
“Flora, I…”
God, no!It was Gilly. She’d come around the rock, no doubt to check on what was taking her so long. Frantically, Flora tried to warn her with her eyes, but it was too late.
She heard the man holding her let out a vile explicative just as Gilly screamed. “Help!Oh, my God, Lachlan,help! A man has Flora!”
Her captor gave up trying to drag her and lifted her off the ground, eliminating her ability to attempt her favored method of escape. Knowing Gilly’s screams had alerted the group and that it was too late to avoid danger to the others, she twisted and thrashed against him.
He only gripped her harder. His fingers tore into her cheeks as his hand tightened like a vise around her mouth and nose, cutting off her breath. The other arm was coiled around her ribs. She stopped struggling, pulling his hand instead as she fought for air.
They’d reached a clearing beyond the circle of trees, perhaps a hundred feet from the Faerie Pool, when he released her, pushing her toward another man. She bent over, gasping for breath, hearing the sounds of fighting coming from where they’d just left. Her heart dropped as she realized what must be happening.
The other man rushed toward them, leading a horse. “What happened?” he asked.
“A girl saw me taking her.”
“Who are you?” she gasped. “What do you want with me?”
“We’ve come to help you,” said the man with the horse. He was about forty years of age and had a pleasant weathered face. “My name is Aonghus. Your brother sent us to rescue you from your abductor.”
Her brother? “Which one?” she demanded.
The man looked confused for a minute before he said, “The Maclean of Duart.”
Hector. The sounds of the fighting were growing louder. A sharp scream tore through the air, and she spun around.Oh, dear God, that was Gilly. She started to make a move back toward the fighting, but the restraining grip of her initial captor held her. For the first time, she got a good look at him. Her first thought was of hair. It blanketed most of his face with his heavy dark brows, a beard, and thick sideburns. His eyes were dark as well and none too friendly.
“Get your hands off me.”
Her tone startled him, and he let her go.
“I apologize for Cormac, my lady,” the other man, Aonghus, interjected. “But we did not want to take a chance that you would alert them to our presence.”
“I think it’s too late for that.” Her eyes kept darting to the trees. She could hear the thrash of men coming toward them. Flora didn’t know what to do. She just didn’t want anyone to be hurt on her account. A few weeks ago, she would have leapt at the opportunity to escape, but now…now everything had changed. “You must call off your men. There has been a misunderstanding. I am no longer a prisoner.” She took a step toward the sounds when her captor moved to block her.
