shoulder not covered by the warrior's plaid.
He grunted.
She bit down harder and tried to stab him in the thigh with the knife. Suddenly, instead of the arm being around her waist, it was wrapped around both her arms, holding them tight to her sides. The thumb from his free hand pressed against her wrist and her hand released the knife of its own volition.
The horse beneath them started moving and the warrior growled in her ear. 'Stop trying to eat me, woman. I dinna think even the English infidels practiced cannibalism.'
Emily tasted blood and yanked her mouth away from the huge Warrior's shoulder. She spit to get the taste from her mouth and then turned to glare at her captor, but her attention was caught by Cait's wildly flailing body.
The other woman fought desperately, trying to free herself. The warrior holding her wasn't working too hard to subdue her, but was concentrating on protecting her from the tree branches as they rode swiftly through the forest.
Unconcerned about her own plight for the moment, Emily yelled, 'Stop fighting, Cait. You'll hurt the baby.'
'We can't let them take us!' Cait cried back. 'If we do, it will mean war between the Sinclairs and the Balmorals.'
Emily didn't see why that should be so upsetting to Cait. From what she had heard, the Highland clans were always at war with each other.
'If your brother did not want war, he should not have allowed his warrior to keep one of my clanswomen,' the warrior holding Emily said.
Cait turned and glared at him, still struggling to be released, but not thrashing as wildly. 'She was outside your holding… hunting on our land. Her loss is your own responsibility.'
The man holding Cait said something to her. Emily could not understand the words, but his harsh tone was unmistakable. Cait said a word that Emily didn't know and the warrior's profile hardened with anger. Emily's own captor stiffened with affront, indicating he knew just what the word meant and it wasn't good.
Apparently there were worse things than being likened to a goat.
Suddenly the horses picked up their pace. There was no chance to speak for the next several minutes as the men rode hard. Emily worriedly watched Cait and was glad to note her friend no longer struggled for release. She must have realized a fall from a galloping horse could make her lose the babe.
They came to a clearing and stopped as suddenly as they had begun.
Her captor swung down from his horse, taking her with him, and then turned her to face him. Standing, he was huge and she had to tilt her head back to see his face.
Dark brown eyes encircled by gold stared down at her, no softness in evidence. They were wolf's eyes, but instead of making her shiver, they made her burn in places she could give no name. She could not believe she was noticing something so shameful, especially in her current predicament, but the man was altogether too much for her senses to remain unaffected.
'Leave her alone,' Cait yelled.
Emily's gaze skittered to her friend. Her redheaded captor had a more effective hold on her now and Cait's arms were pinned to her sides much the same as Emily's had been.
Her own captor's hands squeezed her shoulders in a demand for her whole attention. 'Tell the laird we are keeping his sister and the babe in her. 'Tis fitting retribution for Susannah.'
She stared at him in horror. 'You can't mean that. Please, you mustn't take her away.'
He didn't bother to reply and she hadn't expected him to. After all, why should he care for her pleas? The man's mind was obviously made up to do this heinous deed.
Still, her mouth opened to argue further, but he squeezed her shoulders again, this time his thumbs brushing along her collarbone. She gasped, no words making it past her suddenly tied tongue. She couldn't think. Not with him touching her in that inappropriate manner. She wanted to tell him to stop, but something about him mesmerized her.
He had not hurt her.
It was a puzzle, but even more so was the question of why he stood staring down at her, saying nothing.
He was frowning, but he didn't look particularly angry.
Didn't the men in the Highlands ever smile? What a foolish thought. Was he waiting for her to agree to be his messenger? If so, he would be waiting a long time.
'You cannot mean to take Cait on an arduous journey on horseback. Surely you have noticed she is with child.'
He said nothing, giving her a glare meant to intimidate and it worked.
He was the most daunting man she'd come across in her life. He was also the most appealing one. The blue paint on his face could not disguise the masculine beauty of his features. Hair like shining obsidian hung past his massive shoulders and even the intricate tattoo around his bicep added to his appeal. It looked like a blue armband and none of the other soldiers had one.
Not that she would have seen any such thing on the Sinclair warriors. They had the decency to cover their upper torsos with saffron shirts under their plaids. Not so with these barbarians. His chest and one shoulder were bare. She could see a purplish bruise forming where she'd bit him as well as a smear of blood.
She winced, pained that she'd done that to another person.
His face held an impassive stare, yet she felt as if he were reading her every thought. She did not know how she was going to stop him from taking her friend, but stop him she must.
She pulled a handkerchief from where she had it tucked in her kirtle and wiped gently at the blood on his chest, not completely aware of what she was doing because her mind was spinning so furiously. She had to protect Cait.
'The journey could hurt the babe,' she pointed out.
'Balmorals do not hurt women. Drustan is keeping her, but she and the bairn will not be harmed.'
Emily pressed the cloth over the small wound she had inflicted. 'Would not taking the laird's wife give you more revenge?' she asked, a desperate plan forming in her mind.
The warrior's eyes narrowed. 'He is not married.'
'Well, that was true a few days ago, but it isn't anymore.'
At her friend's quick intake of breath at her lie, Emily silenced her with a look.
'Where is this wife then?' asked the warrior, in spite of himself.
He did not know why he hesitated and was actually listening to the Englishwoman. She was lovely, but he had never been swayed by a beautiful woman before. Perhaps it was her courage, or the way she tended the wound she had inflicted. The contradictory behavior intrigued him.
As did she. Her obvious concern for Talorc's sister confused ton. He would have expected no less from another member of the Sinclair clan, but this woman was not a Sinclair. She was English. Unmistakably so from the way she was dressed and spoke their tongue with the accent of their southern foe.
English or not, he liked watching her. She tried so hard to hide her fear from him, but her trembling gave her away. Despite her nervousness, purple eyes shot fire at him and this amused him. She looked ready to go to battle. Against him.
And she was not even a femwolf.
Amazing.
Where had the Sinclairs found a jewel such as this?
'I am his wife.'
The words hung in the air, slicing through his pleasure in her company. This jewel belonged to the Sinclair? He would not believe it.
He shook his head.
She nodded emphatically.
He turned to the Sinclair woman. 'Your brother chose an English mate?'
'No.'
Lachlan tilted the woman's chin up so she had to meet his gaze. 'I do not like being lied to.'
