Page 8 of Highlander of Steel
There, barely visible in the moonlight, a tower protruded.
“Me castle,” Laird MacNairn said, leading the horse forward. “Ye’ll be safe there.”
Considering the reason why he had kidnapped her, Ailis wished she could believe it.
3
After being led across spongy heath and through dense woodland, a spiraling upward road delivered Ailis to the heart of Clan MacNairn. The castle perched on a hill that, to her dismay, overlooked the glinting sea.
The salt wind whipped through her hair as they came to the main gates.
At least meancestors had the sense to build their castle inland.
She shuddered and kept her head down, so she wouldn’t have to look at the seaorher new prison.
With a squeal of chains, the portcullis rolled up, and Laird MacNairn guided them into a large courtyard. Given the hour, there was no one around other than guards in MacNairn colors, watching with narrowed eyes. But the empty tables and small, shuttered huts spoke of the hustle and bustle during the day.
“Down ye get,” Laird MacNairn instructed.
Killian. His name is Killian.
The memory came to her like a bolt through her skull.
Killian Lennox, the older brother of Fraser Lennox and the eldest son of Barron Lennox. Now the Laird of Clan MacNairn.
Ailis swallowed. “I… cannae.”
All the riding had locked her legs, and the height of the horse didn’t help either. Plus, she had never been permitted to learn how to ride, so getting down was as new to her as getting up—which, of course, she hadn’t had to do alone.
Killian frowned for a moment, but seemed to understand that it wasn’t just stubbornness keeping her on the horse.
With a grunt, he stepped forward, his hands coming to rest on her waist. “Throw yer leg back over,” he said, “and put yer hands on me shoulders.”
Terrified that she would somehow fall off the other side of the horse, Ailis carefully lifted her leg until she sat facing him. He gripped her tighter, his fingers sinking into her soft flesh, holding her steady.
For a moment, she gazed down into his frosty blue eyes, wondering if there was any chance that this was all a dream.
“I daenae have all night,” he remarked coolly.
Chastened and hating that she had no choice but to obey, she leaned forward and let her hands settle on his broad shoulders. Her fingers curled, her nails digging into his back as she began to tip toward him.
If it hurt, he didn’t show it, merely staring back at her as he pulled her into him.
In a sudden panic, her legs wrapped around his waist and her arms looped tight around his neck, hugging him as if he were her savior and not her captor.
He stepped back with her still clinging to him and cleared his throat. “Ye can put yer feet down,” he said, his hands still on her waist. “I daenae need ye stranglin’ me like ye nearly strangled me horse.”
So mortified that she considered just staying wrapped around him, hiding her face in his shoulder until the embarrassment faded from her cheeks, she slid down his front. The friction of his body against hers sparked a fresh rush of heat that had surely turned her face purple.
With her feet planted firmly on solid ground, and her head bowed to conceal whatever color pulsed in her cheeks, she realized that she was wearing her slippers.
“I’m sorry,” she blurted out, her head snapping up.
“Eh?”
“I’m sorry,” she repeated in earnest. “I’m sorry for what me family did to Fraser.”
And to yer faither.
