Page 370 of Wicked Highland Heroes

Iain narrowed his eyes on her. “I warn you, do not meddle in things you know nothing about.” He jerked his head, and her guard appeared at her side. “Take her to her room—nay, take her to my room. And do not leave the door until I arrive.” He shifted his focus to her. “I will attend to you later.” He gave her a severe look before turning back to the old man.

“Your business here tonight is finished, Samuel.”

“So you will play it that way, then?” Samuel countered in an aggrieved tone. “’Tis a fine thing to change the rules as you please.”

“Ha!” The lass’s voice cut in as the guard struggled to lead her to the door. “You do not know the half of it.”

“Seems to me,” Samuel went on, “you are not playing fair with the lassie.”

“You know nothing of it,” Iain said, throwing himself back into his chair. “So I would offer you the same advice I did her: do not meddle in things that are not your concern.”

“Well, now,” a dark brow rose, “a lady in distress is always a man’s business.”

“She is not in distress. Yet.” Iain muttered. “As to the other matter, if you have a problem with John MacPherson, speak with him. But,” Iain held up a finger, “if you make trouble for those two, you deal with me. They have another child, you know,” he added more gently.

Samuel nodded. “Aye, Sylvia told me. But

Kayleigh hasna’ once asked me to come.”

“Only because she fears you will kill her husband,” Iain said, for once not feeling one wit of compassion for the old fool. “Cannot say I blame her.”

Samuel motioned to his men. “I do not need to waste more time here. But I still say—”

“I know, I know.” Iain waved a hand. “One of these days a MacPherson lass will wed a Menzies,” he repeated the phrase exactly as he’d heard it the past five years. “There is nothing I would like better.” He sighed. “But for now, off with you. I have had a trying day.”

Half an hour later, feet propped up on his chair, Iain had just begun a second scotch and was in full sail planning retribution for his spoilt evening when the front door once again burst open. At the sight of the lass’s guard—fear on his face and a smattering of blood on his forehead—Iain swung to his feet and was standing when the man reached his side.

“They took her, Laird.”

“Bog Mor,” Iain cursed loudly, earning himself more than a few recriminating looks from the women present for the guttural curse. Samuel Menzies picked a devil of a time to make good on his threat.

* * *

At first, it seemed a godsend, but now, surrounded by strangers, a hard ride on a moonless night cast serious doubt on the wisdom of her judgment.

Samuel maneuvered his horse up alongside

Victoria. “Are you all right, lass?” She nodded.

“Can you ride the night?” He glanced around the open countryside. “Iain will not waste any time coming after us once he discovers you are gone. If need be, I can have you ride with one of the lads.”

Victoria shook her head. “I doubt I will sleep a wink.”

Samuel grinned. “Nervous?”

“I suppose,” Victoria said, surprised he understood.

“Do not worry. Iain will have no claim on you once we reach Glecairne.”

Memory rose of Iain’s muscled chest beneath her fingers. Her pulse skipped a beat. She would be truly beyond his reach? “You are sure?” she asked.

“Of course,” Samuel said. “Once you are married to Grant even the MacPherson cannot touch you.”

Victoria nearly fell from the saddle. Fumbling with her grip on the pommel, she regained her balance. “What in Hades?”

“Are you all right?” Samuel asked.

Groaning, Victoria slumped forward, causing him to call a halt. “What do you mean, married?” she almost shouted once her feet were on solid ground. Samuel eyed her. “You are to marry my son,