Page 79 of How to Be a Scottish Mistress

“Which one will ye take first?” the man holding her arm asked. “The redhead or the blonde?”

“Now that’s a problem I wish I had to confront every day of the week,” someone called out.

Several of the men laughed; a few openly leered. Aileen’s breath caught in a sharp gasp. Fiona wished she could offer some sort of comfort, but her wrists were bound and she dare not take her eyes off the leader. Their fate rested solely in his hands.

“We have no quarrel with these fine ladies,” the leader said, his mouth falling into a grim line. “But the earl will have to meet our demands if he wants to get them back.”

“Both of them?” a guttural voice questioned. “Now, why should he be having two such bonnie lasses while we have none?”

“Aye,” the ruffian holding Fiona’s arm shook her so hard her teeth rattled. “If ye insist, we’ll return one. And keep the other. At least fer a few days.”

“That’s enough, Magnus,” the leader admonished. The words were uttered in an even tone, but the look in his eyes held a hard, uncompromising edge that could not be ignored.

Magnus lost a bit of his bravado. He lowered his head and cursed loudly under his breath, but did not relinquish his hold on Fiona’s arm.

Satisfied, the leader turned to the man on his left. “Alec.”

The man nodded and moved his horse forward. Catching Aileen under the arms, he lifted her, heaving her up to his horse like a sack of grain. She shrieked in fear as she literally flew in the air.

“Stop wiggling, lass, or I’ll drop ye,” Alec said, and the men broke into laughter.

Alec swung Aileen forward, placing her rump on the horse, seating her sideways in front of him. Nervously Aileen tried to keep her balance, but her bound hands made it difficult. Even worse, the leader gave a signal and Magnus quickly tied her ankles together. Now she was well and truly secured.

Alec’s arms tightened around Aileen and Fiona could see the younger woman lean into the embrace. It seemed odd, but ’twas the only thing she could do—if not, she’d lose her seat and tumble to the ground.

With Aileen settled, the man on the white horse bent low and held his hand out to Fiona. She shook her head and backed away. He nudged his horse forward and she got her first clear look at his features.

There was something very familiar in the depths of those deep blue eyes, and the bold, chiseled angles of his cheeks and jaw. The harsh determination on his features was unmistakable, yet oddly reminiscent of someone else. Someone she knew.

A lump formed in Fiona’s throat, nearly choking her with fear when she realized who she faced. For an instant she was stunned into silence, her mind trying to deny what her eyes told her.

“Ye’ll ride with me, Lady Fiona,” he said, in a voice as smooth as imported silk.

Aileen’s breath hitched in surprise, but Fiona had already determined their identities were known to this man.

“As you command, Master Gilroy,” she answered.

His eyes widened a fraction at her reply and Fiona knew her suspicion was correct. He was the earl’s bastard half brother. His sworn enemy. But Fiona was not so foolish as to challenge him in front of his men. At this point, he was the only thing standing between them and brutal treatment, possibly even rape.

Though the voice in her head was screaming with protest, Fiona stood very still. Gilroy’s hands encircled her waist. With a single grunt, he lifted her off the ground as though she weighed no more than a babe and placed her in front of him. Magnus quickly placed the bonds around her ankles, biting into her tender flesh as he tightened them.

“We’re off.” Gilroy pressed his knees into the horse’s flanks and the animal instantly responded.

It was a teeth-rattling ride. Fiona struggled to keep her balance, an almost impossible accomplishment, given her awkward position on the horse and her bound hands and feet. Yet each time she feared she might indeed fall from the horse and be trampled to death, Gilroy’s arm tightened around her waist and pulled her closer to the solid wall of his muscular chest.

Her muscles trembled with the effort to keep her seat. Sweat lined her brow and trickled down her spine. As they rode, Fiona offered a short prayer of salvation, for their safe deliverance. However, her prayers soon gave way to blaspheme and before long she was cursing herself for falling into Gilroy’s hands so easily.

She knew he would try to use them in some way to retaliate against Gavin. If they were lucky, he would try to ransom them. What did not bear thinking was the possibility he would harm or even kill them in order to goad the earl.

For all their sakes, she prayed that there was a shred of decency in Ewan Gilroy, a trace of the McLendon honor alive within his heart. It was their only hope.

After what felt like hours, they passed through a very dense section of woods and emerged in a small glade. Fiona had no idea how long they had been riding or even what direction they had traveled. Though he knew his lands far better than she did, Fiona rightfully feared Gavin would have a difficult time finding them.

Gilroy steered his horse slowly around the perimeter of the glen, then gave the signal to dismount. He reined in his snorting mount, waiting for one of his men to hold the bridle until he dismounted. Once on the ground, he reached up and pulled Fiona into his arms and set her on the ground.

Limbs aching, Fiona wobbled, nearly falling over. Aileen seemed to be having similar difficulty, but Alec reached out to steady her. Since Fiona was not afforded a similar courtesy, she was merely grateful she didn’t tip over and land on her backside.

With everyone now standing, Fiona got her first good look at the rest of the men who accompanied Gilroy. They were a haggard bunch, almost all older than their leader, except for one of the lads. A few eyed her and Aileen with mild interest, two others openly leered.

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