Page 17 of Married to the Ruthless Highlander
Too close, she’s too close.
But instead of stepping away, he found himself lingering, savoring that heat that radiated from her.
She was intoxicating.
His gaze flicked away when he caught himself staring for too long. This wasn’t meant to happen. He wasn’t meant to be interested—certainly not in her. But now that she was here, he wasn’t so sure that he could step away.
Freya’s voice broke through his haze. “I will play the part,” she told him, her frustration lacing each and every word. “But I willnae obey ye. Ye dinnae have that control over me.”
Those words… they felt more like a challenge than anything else.
“But I do, lass. Dinnae think for one moment that ye are in a place of power here. Look around ye, Freya. Where are ye?”
Her eyes narrowed. She was seething, but she did not answer.
“When ye are in me castle, on me lands, under me care,” Doughall continued, his voice dropping to a whisper full of promise, “ye belong to me. Ye will obey every order, whether ye like it or nae.”
“So, I am yer prisoner until Adam returns?”
Doughall shook his head slightly. “Ye are me guest.”
Her laugh was bitter. “Is this how ye treat yer guests?”
“Only the most esteemed,” he said, unable to resist making the jab.
He could see how much it riled her, and for some reason, he could not bring himself to stop. He wanted to push her, to see just how far he could go until she shattered into a thousand pieces.
Freya stepped back from him, turning her face away, her hands clenched into fists at her sides.
“Since ye didnae allow me to bring me horse,” she said through gritted teeth, “I want ye to lend me one of yers so I may ride whenever I please.”
She had insisted on bringing the horse, complained about it, but Doughall had not been sure that the old beast would make the trip. Still, his stables were well equipped, and he had some horses that would suit her well enough.
“Very well,” he agreed. “But only with Ersie. Or meself.”
At the mention of Ersie, her eyes flickered. A look of curiosity crossed her face, but it faded just as soon as it appeared. “And I wish to go wherever I want?—”
“Ye have access to the castle, and outside of it with an escort.”
Will she try to run away?
He moved closer, crowding her against the edge of his desk, leaving her with nowhere else to go. She bumped into it, her eyes widening at the realization, but she did not try to sidestep him.
Doughall closed the space between them, leaning in closer. “But let me make meself clear.” His voice was husky with promise. “If ye try to escape, I will hunt ye down. And I willnae untie ye after I’ve caught ye this time.”
The image of her bound before him flashed through his mind, and for a brief moment, he let it linger. He wasn’t sure if he hated or relished the idea. Perhaps both.
“Aye,M’Laird,” she spat before turning sharply, pushing past him.
Without thinking, his hand shot out, grabbing her wrist and pulling her back. She stumbled, crashing into his chest. Her breath came in short gasps as she glared up at him, defiance burning in her eyes.
“I didnae permit ye to leave, lass.”
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“Ye are mine to command for the next month,” he growled.
Freya’s heart pounded in her chest as she stood before him, flush with anger. But it wasn’t just the anger that had her blood boiling. Her skin tingled, betraying her, making her aware of every shift in the air, every movement that he made.
