Page 10 of The Laird’s Sinful Obsession

"Help!" she screamed again, though she knew it was futile. "Someone help me!"

"There's nay one comin', lass," Torquil said calmly, walking alongside as his men hauled her forward. "Yer escorts are dead or dyin'. Yer braither's in England. And yer friends from the ball are long gone by now."

Alba's boot connected with one man's shin. He cursed viciously but didn't let go.

They reached the overturned carriage, and Alba's stomach lurched when she saw Finn's body lying motionless on the ground. Dougal was slumped against a tree, blood streaming from a wound on his head, barely conscious.

"Nay!" Alba screamed, renewing her struggles with desperate fury. "Ye bastard! Ye killed them!"

"They were in me way," Torquil said simply. He nodded to his men. "Hold her."

They forced Alba to her knees, though she continued to fight, her whole body shaking with rage and terror. Torquil crouched down in front of her, close enough that she could smell the wine on his breath.

"Now then," he said softly, reaching out to grab her chin. Alba jerked her head away, and his expression hardened. "We can dae this the easy way or the hard way, Alba. But either way, ye're comin' with me."

"I'll die first," she spat.

"Nay, ye willnae." Torquil's smile was cold and cruel. "Because I tried tae dae this the proper way, lass. Gave ye the chance tae come willingly. But ye chose tae reject me, ae humiliate me in front of half the Highland lords."

"I never—ye had nay right."

"I have every right!" His voice hardened, and suddenly the charming facade was completely gone, replaced by something ugly and dangerous. "Dae ye ken how long I've been plannin' this? How many alliances I've had tae forge, how much gold I've spent? The MacKinnon lands border mine now, and with yer braither away in England, it is the perfect time tae secure them."

He stood abruptly and gestured to his men. "Get her on the horse."

They hauled Alba to her feet, and she immediately tried to break free again, throwing her weight backward. One man lost his grip, but another caught her around the waist.

"Nay!" Alba twisted, managing to get one arm free. She swung wildly, her fist connecting with someone's jaw.

"Bloody hell!" the man roared, and suddenly there were more hands on her, liftin' her bodily off the ground despite her frantic struggles.

"Calum will kill ye fer this!" Alba screamed as they carried her toward Torquil's horse. "The Covenant will hunt ye down! Ye'll nae get away with⁠—"

"The Covenant will dae naethin'," Torquil interrupted, his smile returning, sharp and vicious. "By the time yer braither returns from England, we'll already be wed. And there are... ways tae ensure a marriage is bindin', even if the bride is less than willin' at first."

Horror crawled up Alba's spine as his meaning became clear. She thrashed harder, screaming until her throat was raw, but Torquil's men were too strong.

They lifted her up, and Torquil mounted behind her, his arm locking around her waist like an iron band.

Alba drove her elbow back into his ribs with all her strength. Torquil grunted but didn't release her. Instead, he pulled a dagger from his belt and pressed the cold steel against her throat.

"Be still," he hissed in her ear, "or I'll make sure ye regret it."

Alba froze, the blade biting into her skin just enough to draw a thin line of blood.

"That's better," Torquil murmured. "Now, we're goin' tae take a nice quiet ride tae me lands, and ye're goin' tae⁠—"

"Put. Her. Down."

The voice cut through the night, cold and deadly as winter ice.

Lachlann MacNeil stood at the edge of the clearing, his sword drawn and moonlight gleaming off the steel. He wasn't wearing his mask anymore, and his face was terrible in its fury, grey eyes burning like storm clouds lit by lightning, jaw clenched so tight Alba could see the muscle jumping beneath his skin.

Relief flooded through her so powerfully she nearly sobbed. "Lachlann!"

"MacNeil." Torquil didn't put her down, and his hand didn’t move. "This is nay concern of yers. The lady and I are just gettin’ tae ken each other."

"If ye dinnae put her down in the next three seconds, I'm goin' tae gut ye like a fish and leave yer corpse fer the crows." Lachlann's voice was perfectly calm, which somehow made the threat even more terrifying. "One."