problem.”
“He won’t give you the sword,” she said with complete certainty. She didn’t know the Duke of Colster, had only met him once, but she knew his brother. She might think of Lord Phillip as evil and mean…but he was famous for being incorruptible and proud of it.
“You’d best hope he does, lass,” Mr. Lachlan replied.
“Because if not…?” she asked. “What will you do then?”
He looked down at her, meeting her eye. “’Tis the sword or your life.”
Panic choked her. He said it so casually.
She forced herself to be calm. “I know what it means to desperately want something. I want to go home.
It’s where I belong. There is a ship that is leaving Edinburgh harbor in four days time, sailing to New York. Perhaps there is a way we can both have what we want. You can pretend you have me. I’ll even write a note, but please, let me go to Edinburgh. I must be on that ship. Imust go home.”
He shook his head. “When Colster gives me the sword, I shall turn you over to him. It’s what must be done. I am a man of my word. You for the sword.”
Constance’s temper exploded. “I despise you,” she said, putting every ounce of her frustration and anger into those words.
“Good,” he answered, spurring his horse, increasing its gait to a gallop. “Keep it that way.”
Five
The movement of the horse and her tied hands forced Constance to lean against Lachlan. She didn’t hide her bitterness, little that he cared. She’d never reach that ship before it sailed. Not now. He was taking her farther and farther east. She could tell by the location of the moon.
Her heart heavy, she struggled with tears of disappointment. He must have sensed her movement and misinterpreted it—either on purpose or out of guilt; she hoped it was the latter—because he reined his Page 34
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horse to a stop to pull a swath of tartan wool from his saddlebag.
“Wrap this around you.”
“I don’t need it,” she informed him proudly. She knew this tartan was his clan’s colors. Well, she didn’t want to wear it.
His response was to impatiently wrap the tartan around her anyway.
They rode on.
At some point she surprised herself by nodding off. Right there in his arms. She slept deeply, too.
When she did wake, she did so in stages. Her joints were stiff and it took her a moment to remember she’d been riding a horse, and even a few seconds more to realize she was still on the same horse and still in Lachlan’s arms, albeit a bit more cozy and familiar with him. Her head rested in the indentation of his shoulder. The warmth of his body kept her relaxed. His jacket against her cheek smelled of damp wool and the pines they were riding through.
She didn’t move. She didn’t want him to know she was awake. Not quite yet…because this half dreamy state was pleasant compared to the problems of the real world. Once she opened her eyes, she’d have to battle him again. For right now, she’d rather conserve her strength.
However, curiosity eventually overcame her good intentions. Lifting her eyes just enough to take in her surroundings, Constance took in dawn’s murky light and the fog that hung from the fir branches of the forest and rolled across the ground.
The Scots were all quiet now. She imagined some napped lightly even as their horses kept going. She’d known frontiersmen who could travel in that fashion for days without stopping to rest.
She was certain Gordon Lachlan wouldn’t close his eyes. That would mean losing control, allowing the world to move upon its own accord, and he wasn’t that sort of man.
He confirmed her suspicions when he said, “So you’re awake, Constance.”
She opened her eyes wider. “You may refer to me as Miss Constance,” she replied, aping Lady Mary Alice’s hauteur. She wanted to stretch her muscles, but she didn’t, fearing it would bring her even closer to him. She wiggled the
“He won’t give you the sword,” she said with complete certainty. She didn’t know the Duke of Colster, had only met him once, but she knew his brother. She might think of Lord Phillip as evil and mean…but he was famous for being incorruptible and proud of it.
“You’d best hope he does, lass,” Mr. Lachlan replied.
“Because if not…?” she asked. “What will you do then?”
He looked down at her, meeting her eye. “’Tis the sword or your life.”
Panic choked her. He said it so casually.
She forced herself to be calm. “I know what it means to desperately want something. I want to go home.
It’s where I belong. There is a ship that is leaving Edinburgh harbor in four days time, sailing to New York. Perhaps there is a way we can both have what we want. You can pretend you have me. I’ll even write a note, but please, let me go to Edinburgh. I must be on that ship. Imust go home.”
He shook his head. “When Colster gives me the sword, I shall turn you over to him. It’s what must be done. I am a man of my word. You for the sword.”
Constance’s temper exploded. “I despise you,” she said, putting every ounce of her frustration and anger into those words.
“Good,” he answered, spurring his horse, increasing its gait to a gallop. “Keep it that way.”
Five
The movement of the horse and her tied hands forced Constance to lean against Lachlan. She didn’t hide her bitterness, little that he cared. She’d never reach that ship before it sailed. Not now. He was taking her farther and farther east. She could tell by the location of the moon.
Her heart heavy, she struggled with tears of disappointment. He must have sensed her movement and misinterpreted it—either on purpose or out of guilt; she hoped it was the latter—because he reined his Page 34
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
horse to a stop to pull a swath of tartan wool from his saddlebag.
“Wrap this around you.”
“I don’t need it,” she informed him proudly. She knew this tartan was his clan’s colors. Well, she didn’t want to wear it.
His response was to impatiently wrap the tartan around her anyway.
They rode on.
At some point she surprised herself by nodding off. Right there in his arms. She slept deeply, too.
When she did wake, she did so in stages. Her joints were stiff and it took her a moment to remember she’d been riding a horse, and even a few seconds more to realize she was still on the same horse and still in Lachlan’s arms, albeit a bit more cozy and familiar with him. Her head rested in the indentation of his shoulder. The warmth of his body kept her relaxed. His jacket against her cheek smelled of damp wool and the pines they were riding through.
She didn’t move. She didn’t want him to know she was awake. Not quite yet…because this half dreamy state was pleasant compared to the problems of the real world. Once she opened her eyes, she’d have to battle him again. For right now, she’d rather conserve her strength.
However, curiosity eventually overcame her good intentions. Lifting her eyes just enough to take in her surroundings, Constance took in dawn’s murky light and the fog that hung from the fir branches of the forest and rolled across the ground.
The Scots were all quiet now. She imagined some napped lightly even as their horses kept going. She’d known frontiersmen who could travel in that fashion for days without stopping to rest.
She was certain Gordon Lachlan wouldn’t close his eyes. That would mean losing control, allowing the world to move upon its own accord, and he wasn’t that sort of man.
He confirmed her suspicions when he said, “So you’re awake, Constance.”
She opened her eyes wider. “You may refer to me as Miss Constance,” she replied, aping Lady Mary Alice’s hauteur. She wanted to stretch her muscles, but she didn’t, fearing it would bring her even closer to him. She wiggled the
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