Page 18 of Kilted Abduction
She was wounded and unarmed, but far from done. As Magnus maneuvered to pin her hands behind her back, the woman squirmed out of his grasp and drove her fist straight into his face. His face exploded in pain and his eyes immediately watered as blood, thick and scarlet, flowed from his nose as heavily as it spilled from hers. The woman dove for her sword, but Magnus was quicker and landed on top of her.
Their limbs tangled as they rolled around on the forest floor. The woman was surprisingly strong and was naturally faster than he was, threatening to wriggle out of his grasp. Magnus finally managed to gain the upper hand. He sat astride the woman’s body, her hands pinned to the dirt above her head. She glowered at him with an unbridled fury as she continued trying to break his hold. She might be faster, but he was stronger thanher and once he had her pinned beneath him, she wasn’t going anywhere.
She gazed up at him balefully, her emerald eyes filled with rage. And although the crimson smears across her face gave her a ghastly visage, he couldn’t deny that she was a beauty. Magnus felt the heat coming from her body and was struck by the youth and innocence in her face. There was a sweetness in her eyes that not even her fury could completely bury and something about her that made his stomach clench and put a flutter in his heart.
“Get offa me,” she screeched.
Her voice snapped him out of his stupor. He gave himself a little shake and looked over his shoulder at his brother, beckoning to him, who walked over to her and put a hand on her shoulder.
The woman looked at him queerly and stopped struggling.
“What in the bleedin’ hell are ye doin’ then?” she asked and renewed her struggle. “Get offa me!”
Kai turned to Magnus. “What the hell?”
Magnus looked at his brother, then turned to the woman pinned beneath him. Kai’s gift was his ability to help influence a person’s emotions. He couldn’t control them, but he could help manipulate them. He could use his gift to calm down an angry man or stir the passions of the docile. At least, he usually could. Like him though, Kai’s gifts seemed to have no effecton the woman. He couldn’t hear her thoughts and Kai couldn’t influence her. She seemed… immune. It was more than a little worrisome.
Magnus stared into her rich, green eyes. “What in the hell are ye then?”
CHAPTER NINE
Ciara sat on the log where the two men had sat her down after binding her hands. The men then stepped to the side of the clearing and began talking to one another in hushed tones. She had no idea who they were or what they wanted—or why they hadn’t already gotten her on the road back to her father’s keep and the enslavement that awaited her there. As the larger of the two turned and walked over to her, Ciara stopped fidgeting with the ropes that bound her wrists and sat still as she leveled a frosty gaze on him.
“What is yer name, lass,” he asked.
“What’s yer name?” she countered.
He sighed. “Me name is Magnus MacLeod. That’s me braither, Kai. We’re of Clan MacLeod,” he said. “Now, what’s yer name and what clan are ye with?”
“Me name is Ciara,” she replied simply.
The man stared at her for a long moment, waiting for her to continue. When she didn’t though, he blew out a long, frustrated breath as he ran a hand through his dark, wavy locks. Despite being terrified by the situation, Ciara was struck by how handsome the man was. He moved with a fluid grace that told her he’d been trained—and trained well—to fight. And as she’d listened in on the whispered conversation with his brother, she could tell he was intelligent. Articulate. He wasn’t just some brainless swordsman who’d been hired to capture her.
As she watched him closely, there seemed to be more to the man than met the eye. It piqued her curiosity. And it shamed her to admit, but when the man had been on top of her, holding her down after disarming her, and his icy blue eyes had been locked onto hers, she’d felt a rush of warmth unlike anything she’d ever felt before. It had felt like she’d been hit by a bolt of lightning, and it had made her heart flutter strangely. Ciara knew the feelings that were coursing through her were not appropriate given the fact that he was there to carry her back to a fate worse than death.
“What clan are ye with, Ciara?” the man pressed.
She turned away and looked at the trees that ringed the clearing, making her disinterest in answering his questions more than clear.
“What clan are ye with?” he repeated, his voice hard.
Fury burning in her eyes, Ciara turned to him. “What dae ye want with me? Did me faither send ye tae collect me? Are ye workin’ fer that foul beast Fairfax?”
The rage in her voice seemed to take him aback for a moment but the man quickly gathered himself and turned to his brother, who stood off to the side, a curious expression on his face.
“Lass, I dinnae ken who ye are and I sure as bleedin’ hell dinnae ken who yer faither is,” he said. “And I dinnae ken who this Fairfax lad is either, so I’m certainly nae workin’ fer him.”
He sounded sincere, which gave Ciara a moment’s pause. If he was not there on behalf of Fairfax or her father, who was he? And why had he been following her? Why had he tracked and then captured her? And if he truly was not there to take her back to her father’s keep, why was she sitting there with her hands bound?
Those, however, were all questions that would have to wait. She had more pressing things to deal with right now. And at the top of her list was getting away from the two men who were, on top of it all, acting in a very strange way. Ciara looked down at her hands and wiggled them hard. A small grin curled the corners of her mouth when she felt the ropes start to slip.
It wasn’t often she was glad to be so small, but this was one of those times. Her wrists were so thin and delicate, it had made it more difficult to bind her. That was something Hamish had shown her when he was teaching her to fight. She glanced at the two men—or whatever they really were—at the edge of theclearing. They were still speaking animatedly to each other and not paying any attention to her at all, so she continued wriggling her wrists, twisting and turning her hands so hard, it was almost painful.
“C’mon, ye can dae this,” she whispered to herself.
She thought back to her lessons with Hamish. He’d taught her to see her slight stature as an asset and a strength, rather than the curse she’d always believed it to be. He’d shown her how to move her body and her wrists in such a way that she could escape from almost any binding. They had spent as much time practicing that as they had with the blade with Hamish arguing being able to escape would wind up saving her life more times than her skill with the sword. She hadn’t believed him at the time but could see now that he had been almost prophetic.
Ciara snuck another peek at her captors and found them still engaged in conversation. They still weren’t looking at her, but she could feel her time running out. If she didn’t slip her bonds and escape into the forest soon, she might not have another chance. With a final twist of her wrists, she felt the ropes slip from her hands and had to stifle a cry of triumph.
