My Highland Love

by Tarah Scott

  The beast reared. Iain yanked back on the reins, but she kicked again. The stallion reared a second time. Iain seized the pommel, but felt their bodies slipping from the saddle. He rolled, hugging her close so that she landed on top of him as they crashed to the moist ground. She shoved away from him. He held tight, laughing in spite of the dull pain in his shoulder when she growled. She jabbed an elbow into his ribs. Pain lanced through his gut. His grip faltered and she broke free. The closest of the warriors shot after her and was upon her in a few short strides and grabbed her.

  Iain leapt to his feet and lunged after her. “Release her!”

  The man dropped her. She jumped up, tripped on her skirts, and barely scrambled up again as Iain brought her down like a wild animal.

  He flipped her over and straddled her. “I should have let you break my fall.”

  She grabbed his shoulders and dug nails into the hard muscle. Iain seized her wrists and shoved them above her head. He slid his body along hers until he covered her length and his face was an inch from her mouth. She continued to struggle.

  His groin thickened. “At least you might have been knocked senseless long enough for me to get you to my bed and shackle you there.”

  She stilled, eyes wide. Regret stabbed at him. He had enjoyed the thrust of her slim hips against him.

  The lower edge of Father Brennan’s scapula came into view beside them. “Let her up, Iain.”

  Iain shook his head. “Nay. I am enjoying this more than anything else this morning.”

  A round of approving grunts and laughter went up from his men. As an afterthought, Iain lowered his mouth on hers. She stiffened, but the scent of rose water mingling with the heather crushed beneath her assailed his senses and he breathed in the arousing scents. Shifting, he found the curves of her body held the expected promise. He couldn’t help a glance in the direction of the forest where privacy lay but a moment away.

  “MacPherson,” the priest growled.

  Iain jerked his gaze back onto her. Fear tinged her expression. A twinge of guilt gave way to the desire to kiss away the small tremor on her lower lip.

  “Iain.”

  “Aye.” He rose, pulling her to her feet.

  She bolted, but he yanked her to his side.

  “Please.” She worked to pry his hands from her arm as he led her in the direction of his horse.

  The desperation in her voice halted Iain’s march.

  Father Brennan gave her a fatherly pat on the arm. “All will be well, lass.”

  She scowled. “What an absurd statement.”

  Iain laughed and received a kick to the shin for the offense.

  “I am to blame, child.” Father Brennan sighed. “I did not warn you to remain on holy ground when we had visitors.”

  Iain angled his head in acknowledgement, then faced her. His brief inspection earlier suggested her long skirts hid feminine curves and shapely legs. Yet, her carriage had intrigued him above all. A woman of intellect and gentle breeding, she would suit him well. To his surprise, she had spared but a cursory glance in his direction before turning back to her book.

  He touched the spot where cheekbone met eyes. “As blue as the waters of Loch Ericht.”

  Startled understanding appeared in the blue depths and satisfaction rippled through Iain. Luck was with him today, luck and his captain’s suggestion that he visit Montrose Abbey to investigate rumors of trouble with the Menzies.

  Her eyes narrowed. She shoved his hand away and faced Father Brennan. “You are saying that because I took one step too many in the wrong direction this . . . this man can take me and I have nothing to say about it?”

  “Well, ’twas more than one,” Father Brennan corrected.

  She gave an unladylike snort.

  “Lass,” Iain cut in. “I am Iain MacPherson, leader of my clan. I will provide you a fine home and swear by God to keep you safe.”

  Her severe expression turned with deliberation on him. “King are you—”

  “Clan chief,” he corrected. “A difference King James is sure to appreciate.”

  She raised a scornful brow. “That gives you the right to take me prisoner?”

  “Nay, my lass.” Iain yanked her to his chest. “The fact I am a man gives me that right.”

  Determined fury darkened her eyes. He tangled a hand in the soft tresses behind her neck and pulled her mouth to his. She shoved at his chest. Iain tasted her with slow consideration, not forcing the tightly clamped lips apart, despite the compelling desire to thrust his tongue inside. The length of him hardened to near pain and his heart pounded at breakneck speed, but he ended the kiss. She twisted in an effort to free herself, yet Iain didn’t miss the tremble in her body.

  “Nathan, fetch my horse.”

  The young warrior broke from the band and, a moment later, brought the horse up alongside, with Iain’s sword strapped to its side.

  “Hold fast the reins.”

  Nathan complied and Iain lifted her. She braced her hands against the horse’s ribs, but he hoisted her into the saddle.

  “You will keep her?” Father Brennan crossed his arms over his chest.

  “Aye.” Iain kept an arm around her waist as she tried to slide down the opposite side.

  The priest nodded. “Since you take advantage of her stepping from holy ground, you will abide by the law and wait until she consents.”

  “She will wed me of her own free will,” Iain stepped into the saddle and encircled her waist as he took the reins that were handed to him.

  “That is not what I mean and you know it.”

  “I do not force women,” Iain replied.

  “Perhaps because no woman has ever refused you before?”

  Iain locked gazes with the priest. “Beware that your good intentions do not take you too far, Father. You know I have never taken an unwilling woman.”

  “Liar,” the lady interjected.

  Iain leaned her back in his arm and stared into her eyes. “You do not know me, lass. Why say such a thing?”

  “I am unwilling, yet you force me to go with you.”

  For an instant her logic confused him and memory of another woman made captive by a man who claimed love flitted through his mind. “Aye,” Iain agreed, through tight lips. “But you will choose to marry me.” He gave a quiet order to one of his men and pulled on the reins, once again wheeling his horse away from the abbey. “Come to us in ten days, Father,” Iain threw back before they were out of earshot.

  “He will only come to bring me back,” she said through clenched teeth. “I will never marry you.”

  About the Author

  Award-winning, published author Tarah Scott cut her teeth on authors such as Georgette Heyer, Zane Grey, and Amanda Quick. Her favorite book is A Tale of Two Cities, with Gone With the Wind as a close second. She writes classical romance, suspense, horror and mainstream.

  Born in New Mexico, Tarah grew up in the Southwest. Fifteen years ago, she relocated to Westchester County, New York, where she and her daughter reside in a lakeside community. Don't be fooled by what sounds like a quiet life. The city that never sleeps is only an hour away, and this Texas girl and her New York bred daughter wouldn't have it any other way.

  Website:

  http://www.tarahscott.com

  Facebook:

  https://www.facebook.com/TarahScottsRomanceNovels

  Twitter:

  @TarahScott

  Also by Tarah Scott

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  My Highland Lord

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  Lord Keeper

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  A MacLean Highlander Novel

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  Award Winning Titles

  Lord Keeper

  Golden Rose Best Historical of 2011

  First place in the 2004 RWA CoLoNY Happy Endings contest

  Third place in the Greater Seattle Chapter RWA's 2003 Emerald City

  My Highland Love

  Indie Romance Convention Best Readers Choice Awards 2013

  As T.C. Archer

  Dangerous Liaisons

  Full Throttle

  Sin Series

  Sin Incarnate

  Texas Rangers: Special Ops Series

  Abducted Reconnaissance Team

  Coming Soon

  Phenom League Series

  Behind Enemy Lines

  Desert Fox

  Sin Series

  Sin Revisited

  Sin Reborn

  Texas Rangers: Special Ops Series

  Hijacked

  Kirsoval Scourge Series

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