Page 69 of The Highlander’s Iron Hold

"Well, well," said their leader, a bear of a man with graying hair and cruel eyes. "What have we here? A lost little lamb, wandering so far from her flock."

I'll nae run like some frightened mouse.

Terror threatened to choke her. But running was no longer an option—they had her trapped, her escape route cut off as efficiently as a spider's web closing around a fly.

Midnight reared, striking out with iron-shod hooves, but one of the men grabbed the bridle while another lunged for Morag. She lashed out with her dirk, catching him across the cheek and drawing a line of blood.

"Ye bastard!" she snarled, her temper flaring white-hot. "Touch me and I'll carve ye like a Sunday roast!"

The man laughed, wiping blood from his face. "Och, she's got spirit, this one. Fraser will be pleased."

Fraser. These men weren't random bandits or cattle thieves—these were the very men who'd murdered her escort on the journey to Armstrong lands. The men who'd poisoned and kidnapped her. The men who'd been hunting her specifically. And now they had her.

"Get yer filthy hands off me!" Morag drove her elbow back into the ribs of the man trying to drag her from the saddle, earning a grunt of pain and a string of curses. But there were too many of them, and they moved with ruthless efficiency.

Strong hands seized her arms, her legs, her hair. She fought like a wildcat, kicking and clawing and biting anything within reach, but they easily overwhelmed her.

"Feisty little thing," one of them panted as they wrestled her to the ground. "No wonder Armstrong wants her fer himself."

"Armstrong can want all he likes," the leader growled, producing a length of rope. "She belongs tae Fraser now."

Like hell I dae.

Morag drove her knee up toward the nearest man's groin, missing by inches but causing him to stumble backward. "I belong tae meself, ye pig! And I'll see ye all in hell before I let ye⁠—"

A hand cracked across her face, hard enough to make her ears ring and stars dance in her vision. The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth.

"That's enough of yer mouth, lass," the leader said coldly. "Fraser wants ye alive, but he didnae say anything about undamaged."

His words caused Morag to freeze.

Think, Morag. Think!

Her mind raced even as they bound her hands behind her back.

They were waiting fer me. But how could they ken I would leave the castle?

"Ye've been watching the castle," she said, her voice hoarse from struggling. "Watching and waiting fer me tae leave."

"Clever girl," the leader said with a nasty smile. "Been watching fer days, we have. Waiting fer the right opportunity. Never thought Armstrong's precious bride would make it so easy fer us by comin’ out alone."

Days they'd been planning this, and she'd walked right into their trap because she was too angry and hurt to think clearly.

Colin was right tae try tae keep me inside the walls. He was trying tae protect me, and I thought he only wanted more control.

But it was too late for regrets now. They hauled her upright, her unsteady legs causing her to stumble forward. One of them had caught Midnight and was examining the mare with obvious appreciation.

"Fine horse," he commented. "Fraser will be pleased with this as well."

"Fraser can rot," Morag spat, earning another backhanded slap that made her head snap to the side.

"Watch yer tongue, or I'll cut it out," the leader warned. "Ye're valuable tae us whole, but losing a few coins because we took out yer tongue will be worth it."

They flung her onto one of the horses with one of the men and began moving deeper into the forest, away from the stream and any hope of rescue. Morag stumbled along between two of her captors, her mind working frantically. How long before Colin discovered she was missing? How long before he came looking?

He'll come. The Iron Laird protects what's his. Whatever else has happened between us, he'll come fer me.

She realized this with sudden, fierce certainty.