Page 7 of The Highlander's Illicit Bride
She raised her chin and stared at him boldly. “We can be of use tae each other.”
Struan chuckled. “I can see how I’d be of use tae ye,” he said. “But how in the bleedin’ world dae ye think ye’d be of use tae me? I cannae trust ye.”
“Because I ken where yer braither is bein’ kept.”
“And how could ye possibly ken that, lass?”
“Because I heard me faither speakin’ with his men about it,” she said.
“Eavesdroppin’ on ye faither, eh?”
She shrugged but didn’t give him an answer.
She stood before him, stiff and steely-eyed. He stared back at her, a range of wild emotions scrolling across his face. His jaw clenched and he glared hard at her. She hadn’t known what she was going to say before the words popped out of her mouth, but she realized, at least on a subconscious level, it was her only card to play. It galled her to admit, but she needed his help. And that might be the only way she was going to get it.
“Bollocks,” he sneered.
“I dae. I ken where he’s bein’ held,” she said. “If ye help me, get me away from me faither’s lands, then I’ll tell ye where he is.”
“How would ye even ken where he is then, eh?”
“As ye pointed out, I’m Laird Mackintosh’s daughter,” she replied with a confidence she didn’t fully feel. “Livin’ in Moy Castle, I’ve heard things. I kent when they brought ye in. Kent when ye escaped. And I ken where ye’re braither is bein’ held.”
He stared at her coldly for a long moment, seeming to be debating with himself. Seeming to be trying to decide whether he could trust her or not. She couldn’t blame him for that, she supposed. He was a Cameron, and she was a Mackintosh, after all. It didn’t matter that her surname was an unfortunate fact of her birth.
“Ye help me get away from here,” she repeated. “And I’ll help ye get yer braither back.”
Struan turned away from her, planting his fists on his hips and muttered darkly to himself. She could see he was desperate to get his brother back. But he also didn’t know if he could trust her. He ran a hand through his long, dark hair and kept his back to her for an interminably long moment.
He sighed heavily then turned around. “Where’s he bein’ kept then, eh?”
“I’ll tell ye when we’re safe,” Isolde said. “Right now, we need tae go through the Great Glen and get as for from me faither’s land as we can.”
“I want tae ken where he is.”
“I need tae make sure I am safe and away from these lands. That’s the deal,” she offered. “Ye can either take it or leave it.”
She faced him squarely, doing her very best to keep a strong resolve. He was an intimidating man and if he decided to beat the information out of her, Isolde knew she couldn’t do anything to stop it. She knew she’d fold. Give him whatever he wanted to know. But based on the fact that he’d saved her from her father’s soldiers rather than letting them drag her kicking and screaming back to her father, she suspected he wasn’t a savage. And that he wouldn’t hurt a woman. It was a big gamble to make on somebody she didn’t know. But she also had no choice.
“Fine. But if ye’re comin’ with me, ye’ll dae as I say, when I say it. Without hesitation and without any bleedin’ questions,” he said.
“Aye. Agreed.”
His gray eyes lingered on her for a moment, sending another chill across her skin. Her heart raced and her mouth grew dry as she felt herself withering beneath his gaze. She swallowed the lump in her throat and adopted the iciest gaze she could, doing everything in her power to keep him from seeing the unexpected—and completely unwelcoming—turmoil raging inside of her. But then he stepped forward and noticed her arm.
“Ye’re hurt,” he said.
“’Tis fine.”
He pulled her sleeve back and looked at the cut the soldier had given her during their brief struggle. The feeling of his fingertips brushing her skin sent a tingle through her body. Her stomach turned over on itself and she felt herself quiver. Isolde bit the inside of her cheek ruthlessly. She wasn’t sure why being so close to him set her insides on fire, so she did everything she could to tamp down the flames.
Struan’s lips pursed and, nodding, he pulled her sleeve back down.
“’Tis nae too bad,” he said. “We’ll ride on and when we’re able tae stop tae rest, we can clean and wrap it up then.”
“All right,” she replied.
Isolde yelped in surprise when Struan lifted her up and set her in the saddle on her horse. He was far gentler than she’d thought he could be. Not only did he move with elegance and grace while battling, he had the capacity to be almost… tender. It was illuminating about the man. He swung up into the saddle of his horse then took the reins of the other.
