“Pick a direction,” he said.
Helen favored west but considered going south, too. “This way.” Before she could get her horse to move, they were surrounded by men on horseback.
“Pluck that bitch off the horse,” a bearded man commanded. “And remove the brown barbarian from his mount. Tie him up. I willna risk him getting away to give a warning.”
Three men dismounted and approached Helen’s horse. Anxiety knotted in her gut and she dinna know what to do. When one of the soldiers grabbed her ankle, she kicked free of his grasp. The other two succeeded in getting ahold of the horse, and Helen knew she had lost.
The one she had fought off yanked her from the saddle, grabbing a fistful of her long hair to control her. “Unhand me.”
But the large warrior only laughed and dragged her before the bearded man on the horse.
“Who are ye?” she demanded.
“Laird Baran Munroe,” he answered. “And who are ye?”
His name burned a hole in her heart. She had never met him before, dinna even know what he looked like. But she could tell by his manner that he was full of hatred and would hurt her and everyone she loved. “I am Lady Helen MacKay.”
That brought him down from his mount, and he strode toward her. “What did ye say?”
“I am Jamie MacKay’s wife.”
He circled her, leaning in to sniff her hair. His nearness made her want to vomit, but she stood straight and proud. Baran Munroe wouldna get the satisfaction of seeing her afraid, though inside, she wanted to scream in terror.
“Ye are Helen Sutherland, my betrothed.”
“Nay,” she said. “Tis a lie. I never signed a betrothal contract, as yer nephew found out.”
“My nephew? Where is Duncan?” He stopped in front of her and placed his fingers under her chin, forcing her to look at him.
“Sent back to the isles weeks ago with a MacKay escort. Laird Alex’s secretary proved my signature on the betrothal contract a forgery.”
The laird bellowed with laughter. “Ye are a haughty one. Nothing like yer sire described.”
“Ye’ve been with my father?”
“Aye, left Dunrobin Castle two weeks ago in search of ye, with his blessing, of course.”
Helen couldna believe it. Her effort to share her deepest feelings in that missive had been wasted. Her sire was as heartless as Laird Munroe, only concerned with his own selfish needs, not her happiness. “I willna marry ye—I am already married to Jamie MacKay.”
“Ye’d better be lying, lass. For I willna allow anyone to make a fool of me, not like yer father allowed ye to do to him.”
She shrugged free of the soldier holding on to her, fisting her hands at her sides, suddenly cold and tired. “Ye canna undo what has already been done. I took vows before God. I am Jamie’s wife.”
Baran Munroe cursed her life and infidelity. “Ye are a worthless whore.” He backhanded her so hard she fell down.
Pride gave her the strength to stand up again. She raised her chin defiantly, tears stinging her eyes. She looked for Kuresh, regretting how she had treated him earlier. He was on his knees, his hands tied behind his back. If he died, she would never forgive herself. “What do ye want?”
“Justice,” Baran said through gritted teeth.
“If ye free that man, I will go with ye back to Dunrobin Castle.”
The laird let out a terrifying laugh. “Ye’re not going home, Helen. I will take ye back to the isles with me and keep ye as my mistress. And if ye give me a son, I might let ye live.”
She knew the laird wasna making an empty threat. In his eyes, she had dishonored him in the worst way, for a betrothal was as binding as a marriage in the Highlands.
“Yer sire was right about one thing,” the laird said.
“Aye?”
