Page 7 of A Highland Healer Captured
He urged the destrier into a steadier pace as the land began to rise toward Strathcairn. She sat stiff and defiant in his hold, but she’d stopped thrashing. For now. The lass was too clever to break her spirit on the first night. He admired that, even as it made her dangerous.
“Ye’ll regret this,” she muttered after a long silence. “When me kin come for me, ye’ll regret it.”
Zander laughed openly then, “Yer kin can certainly try, lass. But Strathcairn walls have stood against worse thanMacLennanpride.”
Her head turned, green eyes flashing. “This willnae be forgiven. Lest ye forget it’s nae just the MacLennan’s ye have to worry about, but also the Muirs and the Crawfords.”
“Good,” he said, smirking faintly. “Let them hate me. Let the whole Highlands spit me name. So long as me son breathes, I’ll bear it. They’ll have to travel to the far reaches of the Highlands to let me hear their gripes.”
She looked at him then as though seeing him for the first time. And for an instant, pity flickered across her gaze. Zander’s gut twisted
“Save yer sympathy, lass,” he said roughly. “I need yer skill, nae yer pity.”
Her chin lifted high, her fire rekindled. “Fine then. Because ye’ll get none of it from me.”
Zander rolled his eyes. “A bargain…” he started once they reached the forest edge.
She bristled against his hold, tilting her chin toward the rain. “A bargain, ye say? Then here’s mine. Release me this night, and I swear on the MacLennan name that once I see to me cousin, I’ll ride straight for yer keep and I’ll heal yer son, if I can. But I’ll come by me own will, nae chained to yer saddle like a prized kill from a hunt.”
Her audacity nearly made him laugh. Nearly. He bent his head until his lips brushed the edge of her damp hair, close enough she could feel his breath. “Ye think me a fool? That I’ll trust the word of a lass who already lied to her kin to ride out in secret?”
“I didnae lie!” she snapped, twisting to face him. Rain streamed down her cheeks, but her fire burned hotter than the storm. “I left without permission, aye, but only because time matters. If ye had a shred of decency, ye’d ken what that means.”
“Decency doesnae keep a laddie breathing,” Zander growled, voice rough in his throat. “Action does. I’ve seen too many fine words laid over graves.”
Their eyes locked, hers blazing green, his grey and unyielding. For a heartbeat, it felt like the storm itself bent low to listen.
Her voice cracked with the force of her fury. “This is nae a bargain then. This is theft.”
“Aye,” he said, grim and certain. “Theft, if ye like. But a bargain all the same. Ye’ll heal Grayson. And until he lives, ye are to remain in me keep. Try to flee, and I’ll chase ye through every glen and every riverbed from me lands to these until I’ve got ye again.”
She was silent. Chewing on his vow.
Zander’s mind wanted to stay on Grayson. His boy’s shallow breaths, the way his ribs rattled when he coughed, the memory of him clutching his sleeve and whisperingDa, daenae go.These were the reasons fueling his actions. Grayson is who he’d raze the Highlands for, if he must.
But the Dunlop lass made it damn near impossible to think straight.
She fit awkwardly across his saddle, aye, but there was no escaping how petite she felt in his arms, or how soft her body pressed against his chest even through a sodden cloak. He drew a sharp breath, forcing his gaze ahead.
Nay. She’s nothin’ but a means to an end. Me boy needs to live, and that’s all that matters.
Yet each time she shifted, her backside brushed against the hard planes of his thighs. Each time she wriggled, her curves rubbed against him like flint and tinder.
A lesser man would have let temptation undo him. A selfish man would have taken what was offered by accident of circumstance. Zander had never been either.
Still, the thought lingered, unwelcome as a thorn in flesh.God above she makes me so aware of what I’ve been without.
He cursed inwardly. He should be thinking of Grayson’s next breath, not the healer’s lips, not the shape of her pressed to close. She could hate him, spit at him, curse his name until her voice broke, and he’d deserve it. He didn’t need her forgiveness. He didn’t even need her peace.
All he needed was her hands steady enough to keep his son alive.
But as the rain lashed against them and her stubborn fire burned bright even in silence, Zander realized the lass was more dangerous than he’d planned. Not because she might run.
But because the she was a distraction.
Her chin lifted, then, sharp as a blade. “Then hear me, Laird Strathcairn. I’ll tend to yer son if I must, but once he’s well, I’ll be gone. Me family willnae be kept waiting like prisoners while ye hold me to ransom.”
Zander’s jaw tightened, though his grip never wavered. Bold words for a lass trapped against him, soaked and breathless. She flung them like daggers, yet each one struck deep and only fed the heat curling low in his belly.
