Highland Barbarian (Highlander Series) by Ruth Ryan Langan Page A

you?”
    “Did you?” It was the voice of a coquette, warm, inviting.
    “You know I did. We all did while we were with you in France.”
    “Oh, you. I know better. Brice Campbell, you were the only Scotsman who never let himself be swept away by the charm of France.”
    “Only because I yearned for the Highlands. I feared it would be too easy to be seduced by the life you offered us.”
    “Is that why you left so abruptly?”
    “Aye. I had to return to my home. Or be lost.”
    “Poor Brice. Has it all been worth it?”
    There was silence. For long minutes the only sound Meredith could hear was the hiss of the fire. She staggered and leaned heavily against the door to the armoire. If she did not slip out of this heavy cloak soon she would faint from the heat. While she listened to the growing silence she wriggled out of the cloak. When she had managed to free one arm she sighed and began the struggle to free the other.
    She was so engrossed in her struggle to free herself from the cloak she did not hear the sound of footsteps.
    “So.”
    The door to the armoire was yanked open, causing Meredith to fall forward into Brice’s arms. She would have slumped to the floor if he had not held her firmly.
    Instantly the dogs circled around, yelping and baying.
    “Why are you spying on us?” Brice’s tone was low, menacing.
    Meredith’s cheeks reddened. She was mortified as she faced the haughty young woman who stared at her as if she could not believe her eyes. How she must look. Like some sort of ragged beggar. The cloak hung from one arm, dragging behind her on the floor. The fur throw was caught about her feet, threatening to trip her. Jagged scraps of bread and meat spilled from the pockets of the cloak. The hounds leaped up, snatching at the scraps and dragging them from her pockets.
    At the sight Brice’s eyes narrowed. “Are you ready to explain what this is all about?”
    She swallowed. She was caught. There would be no use trying to lie. “I—intended to run off while you were occupied with your guest.”
    “Run off?” The young woman took a step closer, studying Meredith with open curiosity. “And why would you do that?”
    “Because I’m being held here against my will,” Meredith cried.
    “Brice.” The young woman turned wide eyes toward her host. “Is this lass telling the truth?”
    Meredith’s heart soared. Surely this young woman would insist that Brice return her to her clan at once.
    Brice continued to hold Meredith by the arm. His fingers tightened their grip. He could feel his temper rising.
    “She is. This is Meredith MacAlpin.”
    “Oh, how exciting. I heard about the—incident at the cathedral. You must tell me everything.” The young woman’s eyes danced with mischief. “This is so...” She spoke in rapid French for several minutes, while Brice’s eyes darkened with anger. Then, reverting to English, the young woman continued, “Such a dashing, romantic adventure. My heart fairly bursts with the thought of it. You are a devil, Brice Campbell. A rogue and a devil. And you, Meredith MacAlpin. What a thrilling story you will one day tell your grandchildren.”
    “You are daft.” Meredith kicked the fur throw from her feet and shrugged out of the confining cloak. Around her feet the dogs slathered after the last of the food scraps. “I am being held captive by a barbarian and you suggest that I should faint for joy.”
    At her insulting words the young woman’s laughter faded. She tilted her head at a regal angle and regarded Meredith with a look of contempt.
    “You do not have permission to speak to me in that tone. Kneel at once and beg my pardon.”
    Meredith’s mouth dropped open. For a moment she could scarcely believe her ears. She turned toward Brice and found him grinning. That only served to further enrage her.
    “Of all the vain, arrogant, pigheaded...”
    Brice’s fingers fastened upon her arm. In a tone tinged with laughter he said, “Hold your tongue, woman.