Page 22 of Highlander’s Torn Bride

She didn’t know which way they had come from, nor which way would lead her back to Alexander, but that didn’t stop her from sprinting as quickly as she could. It was too dark to see where she was going, with the light of the moon only just barely outlining the trunks of trees and the soft, dark clumps of bushes. But every fallen branch or stone or piece of uneven ground threatened her footing. Loudly, she kept stumbling and falling, her palms skidding through the soft soil as she landed.

It was starting to grow louder behind her, with the shouts of men and the neighs of horses echoing through the trees. And footsteps…footsteps that were far too close for her comfort.

“Margaret!” Gavin’s voice sliced through the air; he couldn’t have been far behind her.

She slid to a stop and threw herself against the trunk of the nearest tree, tip toeing around its circumference until she could crouch in the middle of a group of overgrown ferns. She couldn’t outrun him, not when she did not even know where she was going.

“Margaret!” he called again, and this time he sounded even closer than before. She could hear his deep, frantic breaths. But then, after one large breath, he went silent. He was listening for her, for the sound of her racing across unknown land. Margaret cursed in her head. He wasn’t going to hear anything. He was going to know she was hiding and assume it was somewhere nearby.

Alexander, she thought to herself, shouting the name so loud through her mind that she hoped it would somehow project out to him. Then she stopped herself, refusing to think of Alexander just now. Just two days ago, she had given him a warning of her independence. Now was an opportunity to prove her mettle. If not to him, then to herself.

She heard two soft steps forward, then a few more, and then she was sure that she could reach out and touch him. Margaret softly touched her hand to the ground, patting it here and there as she searched for anything she could use as a weapon.

“Over here!”

The shout was faint, but distinct, coming from behind the small hill to her left. Gavin’s footsteps shifted, turning toward it, before he set off at a run.

Margaret released a breath and waited until the sound of his steps to fade before she stood and carried on. She went slowly at first, trying not to rustle the leaves or crunch any branches under her feet. But then, as the shouts and footfalls of Gavin and his friends began to grow once more, she quickened her pace.

She was at a near run at the point that she heard it: the snap of branches and the shushing of leaves being thrown aside. Margaret froze, her mouth opening to let out a cry but thinking the better of it. Where had it come from? Margaret was standing right in the center of a small clearing, with no shelter anywhere for her to use as a hiding place.

Then it came again, another snap of branches underfoot, and Margaret began to run. Whoever it was, they began to run too. They were running parallel to her, only a few trees over. Then they were ahead of her. And then…

It was like crashing into a boulder, and her eyesight went fuzzy as her head suddenly felt like it was filled with a dense fog, concealing all better thought and reason. Margaret felt drunk, and she felt her knees give way, yet she remained upright. Then, as the fog began to clear, she felt the arms around her. Arms that were not giving, even now that she was trying to push herself away. With one mighty shove, Margaret pushed against her captor with all of her might. The grip on her faltered, and then she was free, stumbling back before she felt the hem of her skirt catch under her boot, sending her falling back.

Before she could scramble up to her feet once more, to keep running as quickly as she could, the hands were upon her again.

“Got you, lass.”

7

“Now would you calm the hell down!” Alexander grunted, tightening his grip on his wife’s arms, not particularly wanting her to land another blow against him.

At the sound of his voice, she stopped moving. “Alexander?”

“Aye. Come on,” Alexander said, hoisting her to her feet and dragging her after him through the forest.

“Alexander, I—”

“Later.”

As quickly and as quietly as he could, he navigated them through the dark forest, at times reaching back to pull Margaret against him and whispering some excuse about how it was a steep hill or that the footing was difficult, but he just wanted to make sure she was still there.

The moment he had known that she had been taken, it had been as if he had been shot with a million arrows, and then a million more. If it weren’t for his muscles moving on a warrior’s instinct, he would have broken down in the middle of the caravan and lost all control of his emotions. Instead, he and his men had pursued, with Alexander issuing orders without even knowing if they made any sense.

The first hour of searching had been treacherous. Two of his men had been shot by lingering archers, and another had fallen into a pit filled with sharpened stakes. Then, finally, things in the forest had quieted, and the remaining men had decided to split up and spread out. They regrouped at nightfall, with no one having any leads or having found any tracks. Whoever the outlaws had been, they knew this forest well. Each step that they had taken had been carefully set where it would not leave a trace, and they had gone deep enough within to prevent easy pursuit.

Alexander had sent the men back to find the caravan and to ensure that it had safely made it to Mackay lands. Though Jonah had protested, Alexander had stayed behind, running into the trees to continue his search before anyone could convince him to do otherwise.

He came to regret the choice after searching in vain for another hour in the dark. What had he expected to find when the daylight had done him no good? But the thought of giving up, of turning back and laying in his tent that night without her had sharpened his pain.

The woman was frustrating, and infuriating, and flawed in so many ways that he could hardly name them all. She was the very type of woman that he had learned to despise. But then, without warning, she would transform into a creature so completely and utterly perfect to him that he couldn’t help but to bind chains round his heart and offer her the key. He wanted to get to know that woman. And he was going to be damned if a group of bandits robbed him of that chance.

Alexander had thought he was hallucinating when he heard the shouts in the distance. But then, when they wouldn’t dissipate, he rushed toward them, sliding onto his stomach as he reached the top of a hill overlooking a small camp in chaos.

“Find her!” one man shouted as he began lighting torches and passing them out.

“She couldna gone far!” said another as he began shoving men into the trees in varying directions.