Page 151 of Wicked Highland Heroes

With a grunt, he seized her arms and trapped them against her body. He threw a leg over her thighs, pinning them against the horse’s side, before the horse shot forward. Tears of rage stung her eyes even as she arched and twisted. Her grandfather’s men had died for nothing. Aland...David, had died without ever seeing their executioner.

Rhoslyn’s legs cramped and she struggled harder. She would plunge the first knife she found into the heart of Talbot St Claire. He was a fool to have acted so rashly. He would not have her, her lands, or the goodwill of his king. Nay. He would die.

Minutes passed in growing agony before her captor at last slowed his horse’s pace. Rhoslyn couldn’t deny her relief when he released the pressure on her legs. He shifted her bottom across his hard thighs, and she straightened, stretching her legs. One large hand pressed her thigh in what she knew was a warning not to incite the beast again.

Pinpricks of light dotted the foggy darkness ahead. Was this Dunfrey Castle? She hadn’t seen lights to indicate they had passed Castle Glenbarr. So her captor had wisely circled around her home to avoid detection. Once they reached Dunfrey Castle she would become a prisoner. Dunfrey Castle, nicknamed ‘Dragon’s Lair’ by the Highlanders who had competed against St. Claire in the tainchel, the Great Hunt, was smaller than Castle Glenbarr, but no less fortified.St. Claire would defeat any who attacked him, just as he had his competitors in the games. Truly, the castle was appropriately nicknamed Dragon’s Lair, for the knight, like the mythical dragon, decimated his enemies.

They drew closer, and an eerie yellow glow haloed the torches in the fog up on the battlements. Despite her resolve, her belly clenched with fear. She mouthed a silent prayer to Saint George for strength to bind her dragon as St. George had his a millennia ago.

The keep loomed, a shadow in the fog that became a visible wall when they stopped. Something familiar niggled at her.

“’Tis I,” her captor shouted, in a cultured English accent.

No simple man-at-arms had been sent to collect her. Only a knight of the first order would do to kidnap Sir Talbot St. Claire’s wife.

“Open in the name of peace,” he called.

Peace? St. Claire represented anything but peace.

Fury swept through Rhoslyn. “Ye speak of peace when you kidnap innocent women and slay men in the dark? Neither you nor your master shall know peace the remainder of your days.”

Her captor gave a low laugh that sent a chill down her spine.

“What man knows peace when he takes a wife?” he said.

Rhoslyn stiffened. The man was a dog. How fitting that a dog should serve a dragon.

Wood creaked as the gates began a slow swing inward. He spurred his horse forward when the opening was barely wide enough to accommodate entrance. The fog obscured their surroundings. He stopped and hugged her close as he swung his leg around the pommel. She threw her arms around his neck for fear of falling as he slid from the saddle. Rhoslyn jolted when his feet hit solid ground. Another warrior appeared beside the horse as her captor strode away from the animal.

“Put me down,” Rhoslyn demanded.

He lengthened his stride in response.

“Did ye hear me, Knight? I am Lady Rhoslyn Harper—”

“St. Claire,” he cut in.

“What?”

“Lady Rhoslyn St. Claire.”

“How dare you?” She slapped him.

They reached the castle. He stopped short and she tensed. Would he strike her back? Did his master countenance the abuse of women?

Her heart pounded. “Have ye something to say, Knight?”

“What should I say, my lady?”

“Put me down,” she ordered.

He pushed through the door and Rhoslyn drew a sharp breath upon realizing why she had experienced the sense of recognition. They weren’t at Dunfrey Castle. This was Castle Glenbarr.

“What thievery is this?” she demanded. “Your master has no right to claim my property. We are not yet wed.” But she knew the vows—and consummation—were a mere formality. Edward’s decree held as much power as did the priest’s benediction. Still, that gave him no right to occupy her home before even meeting her.

The monster carrying her gave no answer. She had expected none. He was an Englishman, and Englishmen considered their women chattel. St. Claire would soon learn that Lady Rhoslyn Harper, granddaughter of Sir Hugo Seward, Baron Kinsley, daughter of Ihon Seward, was no man’s property.

At the far end of the room burned a low fire in a large hearth. Flickering tongues of flame cast light across the room, revealing the forms of warriors sleeping on the floor. English men-at-arms, she would wager. Where were her men? Had there been a battle? Rhoslyn thanked God she had sent her stepdaughter to stay with her grandfather while she resided at the convent. The girl would have been terrified if she’d been at Castle Glenbarr when St. Claire took possession.

Her captor crossed left, to a narrow staircase. Rhoslyn expected to be put down on her feet, but he threw her over his shoulder and took the stairs two at a time.

“Beast,” she muttered, but kept still for fear of hitting her head in the narrow space.

He reached the second level and ascended another set of stairs to the third floor where lay the too-familiar private quarters. He took several paces, then pushed through a door that opened upon her late husband’s bedchambers. Rhoslyn was abruptly tossed from his shoulder. She cried out and tensed for impact with the stone floor, but bounced on a mattress.

The bed’s thick canopy curtain closed behind her. Surprise immobilized her for an instant, then the tread of boots on stone penetrated her stupor. Rhoslyn scrambled to the edge of the bed and threw back the curtain. She drew a sharp breath at sight of her abductor’s broad shoulders. His large body had nearly crushed her, but seeing him, she now understood how he had dispatched her protectors so easily—and why St. Claire sent him. He was even larger than the Dragon was rumored to be. That didn’t mean she would allow him to leave her in the bed where her husband died.

Rhoslyn leapt from the bed and stumbled before catching herself, then lunged toward the door. The knight reached it several long strides ahead of her and passed into the hall. He slammed the door shut behind him and she collided with the wood.