Page 19 of In the Hands of a Highland Bandit

“Why did ye try tae run in the dark?” he asked, puzzled. “Ye must have known ye would nae get very far. Ye could have really hurt yerself, Greta.”

“That is a very stupid question,” she growled. “I told ye I wanted tae get away.” She began to rub her arms, which were no doubt covered in scratches, she thought.

Finn sighed, then said angrily, “An’ I told ye, ye were nae goin’ anywhere. Ye might as well give up tryin’, Greta.”

She could barely see him in the dark, but the tone of his voice angered her anew, yet she realized once more how pointless it was to argue with him. He had proved to her what a futile exercise running away was, and she had decided to accept it, but there must be something she could do to save the village!

Finn stood up and pulled her with him, then swept her into his arms as he walked, slowly because of the darkness, back to the camp.

“I can walk!” she protested. “I am better now. Put me down.”

“Ye were nearly badly hurt, hen,” he answered, his voice grim. “Ye are not goin’ tae walk. I can carry ye.”

“In case I run away again?” she asked pointedly.

“That as well,” he agreed, but she heard a trace of amusement in his voice. “But ye have seen how hard it is, so don’t try it again. Promise?”

“No, I do nae promise!” she replied angrily. “Why do ye nae just kill me? What do ye want me for?”

“I don’t kill women or bairns,” he replied. “Nor men, if I can help it. All I want is yer possessions, no’ yer lives.”

“Liam wanted ye tae,” she pointed out. “He would be quite happy tae see me dead. I am quite sure he would do it himself if ye were no’ there tae stop him.”

“I am no’ Liam,” he grunted. “He is nothin’ like me, an’ if he lays a finger on ye, he will be sorry.”

Greta had to admit she enjoyed the feeling of being in Finn’s arms, her body being jogged up and down, almost like an infant’s. However, she weighed more than an infant, yet he was carrying her effortlessly, not even breathing heavily.

When Finn set her down in the warmth of the circle of firelight, he looked at Liam, who glared at him reproachfully before turning his head away, seemingly in disgust.

When Finn went to the fire to scoop some food onto the plates for them, Liam stood up and moved over to speak to him. “Why did ye bring her back?” he asked angrily. “Ye know she is nae earthly good to us, Finn.”

“She cannot survive out there on her own,” Finn replied, watching Greta as she sat down just behind the ring of bandits around the fire.

“Then ye should have let her die,” Liam growled, before walking away again.

Finn hoped Greta had not heard him, but it would have made no difference if she had, he reflected. She knew how Liam felt about her.

Two of the bandits had offered to make way for Greta by the fire, but she ignored them and walked over to where Finn was holding out a plate of cold meat and vegetables to her. Her stomach was churning at the thought of eating, but she forced the food down anyway. She was sitting looking at the gang of men, her chin resting on her knees, and Finn had the chance to study her.

Everything about her called out to him on a visceral level. She was a beautiful woman, and as a man, he found her extremely desirable, but he could sense her intelligence too, and he had seen glimpses of a satirical sense of humor. He had a feeling that she could hold her own in any argument and rip a man’s self-esteem away with a few choice words. Her body was strong and so was her willpower; he had never met anyone quite like her.

She turned to see him watching her and went to lie down on the ground again, having spread her blanket out.

Finn went over to kneel beside her. “I will be sleeping close to ye taenight, whether ye like it or no’, Greta,” he told her.

She nodded resignedly and watched as he spread his blanket a few feet away from her.

He sighed as he looked at her. “Greta, if ye try tae run away, I will have tae tie ye up,” he told her. “An’ there are boars an’ maybe wolves in this wood here. So stay where ye are an’ don’t make me have tae hurt ye.”

“Hurt me?” Greta asked, her eyes wide with alarm. “What would ye do tae me? I thought ye didnae hurt women an’ bairns. Have ye changed yer mind? Or has Liam been pourin’ poison in yer ears?” She looked angry and fearful at the same time, and her tone was full of scorn.

Finn shook his head in embarrassment. How could he have been so stupid? “Stay here,” he growled. He jumped to his feet and strode away to wash in the loch, feeling Greta’s and his brother’s eyes on him. He was an idiot, he thought, as the water closed over his head. Soon, no one in the gang would respect him at all, then Liam would take over, and he had no conscience about killing anyone, big or little, female or male. He was treading a tightrope between being gentle enough with Greta yet too gentle for his men.

Perhaps she was right. Perhaps he should let her go and give her a sword to take care of the wolves and the boars. Could they be any worse than a gang of bandits?

11

Two days later, they stopped on the outskirts of the village of Carronish in another small wood where they were very well concealed amongst the trees. Greta had not said a single word to Finn during the journey except when absolutely necessary, although the strain was beginning to tell on her. Silence was a hard thing for her to maintain, and she was generally a talkative person who liked to laugh, talk, and air her opinions.

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