Page 30 of Kidnapped By a Highland Shadow

It was this man who had commanded her to be kidnapped and taken back to his castle for…well, it couldn’t be anything good.

Pippia’s mouth went dry, and a nasty coldness trickled down her spine. She let the last morsel of bread fall from her fingers to the ground. Arran’s eyes followed the bread, and all traces of humor drained from his face.

“Pippia…” he began.

“You’ve killed me,” Pippia whispered.

“No, I—”

“What do you think will happen when I’ve outlived whatever purpose Stewart has for me? He’ll kill me, you fool!” She gave a harsh laugh. “You talk about keeping me safe and that no harm will come to me from you. Do you really think that just because you don’t use the rope or knife or sword that kills me, you don’t carry any blame at all in my death?”

“You don’t—”

“Don’t you dare tell me I don’t understand! You’re a murderer, Arran Stewart.”

Pippia scrambled to her feet, not caring that they were still bound together, and made a dash for the undergrowth. Even with her full momentum, she wasn’t able to move Arran from his place. He barely moved, and Pippia stumbled backward instead.

She tugged and tugged at their bound wrists, ignoring the way the rough rope rubbed painfully against her skin. When she glanced back, Arran’s face was blank and unreadable. She finally stopped, out of breath, and he was still looking blankly at her.

He quietly packed the remains of their breakfast into the leather pouch, shouldered the pouch, and got to his feet.

“We should leave,” he said bluntly. “We’ve a long way to go.”