Page 70 of Captured By the Cruel Highlander
“And ye are willin’ to move?” Adam asked them.
“We are,” Mr. Young replied.
Adam nodded, shaking the man’s hand and then his wife’s. “I am glad it is resolved and ye will be closer to other members of Clan MacNiall. Be sure to contact me if there is anythin’ else ye need.”
He glanced at Emily, and his brooding gaze was so dark that she could hardly catch her breath. Adam was putting on a show infront of the family, but she could see the tension in his shoulders and the anger in his eyes.
After a little more small talk, Adam bid farewell to the Youngs, and then they all made their way back to the horses.
“Ye go on ahead, Theo. Lucas, ye go with him,” Adam said gruffly, and both men complied, mounting their horses and moving away at a trot.
Adam turned to Emily. The sun was behind him, glancing off his bare arms. Emily felt her knees go weak as he glared at her.
Dinnae concede, dinnae surrender.
But there was no denying that the sight of him stirred arousal deep within her.
She lifted her chin, waiting for his tirade and ready to defend herself until her last breath.
“Ye felt it was yer place to come out here without tellin’ me first?”
Adam was attempting civility, but it was a hard thing to do.
Emily was standing on a small tussock of grass with the tumbledown houses of the Youngs behind her. The golden dressseemed to absorb the sunlight all around her, and her dark hair had come loose and was hanging in long, curling locks about her shoulders. She looked like one of the Fae, standing before him.
“We couldnae find ye,” she answered simply.
“Aye, and if yehadfound me, ye ken very well that I wouldnae have agreed to ye comin’ here.”
“Because ye dinnae care what happens to these people.”
“Becauseit isnae safe. What if Stewart had been watchin’ for ye? What would ye have done?”
“But he wasnae. We havenae seen a soul.”
“That doesnae mean ye arenae in danger!”
“Ye are just sayin’ this to stop me from tryin’ to help!”
Adam clenched his fists and dragged her away toward the horses, worried that the Youngs might overhear their conversation.
“There are ways things are done in me clan and certain people to see them done.”
“Like Barclay?” she snarled.
“What do ye have against Barclay?”
“He would have left that family to rot or be murdered in their beds. Does that sound like a man ye wish to have as the head of yer council?”
“Barclay has been with Clan MacNiall for a lot longer than ye, and he kens how things are done.”
“And I have nay place to even try, is that it?”
“Ye dinnae have a place!” he shouted.
He was too close to her. Her scent wafted toward him, reminding him of their time in the hunting lodge. Images of her perfect body plagued him, and he was sick of his obsessive thoughts and hisneedto be close to her.
“Why do ye nae want me help?” she demanded.
