The other Lairds nodded.Their plan had succeeded—at least this part of it. Four women were saved from a fate worse than death. It wasn’t enough to ease his conscience entirely, but it was a start.
“Our men are in position?”he asked.
“Aye,”Theodore assured. “They’ll sweep these woods clean by nightfall. Any organizer still lurking will face justice.”
“Good.”
Hector strode purposelyto his waiting stallion, the lass still secure in his arms. With practiced efficiency, he hoisted her into the saddle, then swung up behind her in one fluid motion.
He positionedher against his chest, one arm wrapped firmly around her waist to keep her from falling as she drifted in and out of consciousness.
“We will meet again soonto finish this business. I will send word to each of ye.”
As he guidedhis stallion toward McCulloch territory, Hector made a silent vow to the woman in his arms. Whatever had happened to her before, she was under his protection now.
His father’svoice echoed in his mind:“A McCulloch protects those who cannae protect themselves. It is nae just a duty, son. It is an honor.”
He glanceddown at the lass. His father would be proud of today’s work, though the task was far from finished.
3
Gabriella woke up to the unfamiliar rhythm of a horse beneath her and a strong arm holding her upright. Her head lolled against something—the man’s chest.
For the space of a heartbeat,she allowed herself to bask in this strange comfort before memory crashed over her. The hunt. Her capture. Being lifted out of her hiding spot.
She hadn’t gotten away.She belonged to a laird now.
She jerked upright,panic surging through her.
“Easy, lass,”a deep voice rumbled against her back. The same voice. “Ye’re safe now.”
Safe.Such a foreign concept.
Gabriella hadn’t beensafe since she left her father’s tiny cottage to find work. Nothing had been safe about her life since her first encounter with Lewis. She twisted, trying to see the face of her captor.
He loosenedhis grip just enough to allow her to turn. Fierce brown eyes met hers. His jaw was set in a hard line beneath a day’s growth, and his expression was focused, determined.
“Where are ye takin’me?” She tried to sound confident, demanding, but her voice came out as a mere rasp. Her throat still felt raw despite the brief rest.
“To me castle,”he replied, his Highland accent thicker than her commoner’s lilt. “Castle McCulloch. Me home.”
The thoughtof living in such a fine castle as a bed slave sent a wave of revulsion through Gabriella.
“I escapeda madman only to be caught by a beast,” she spat, struggling weakly against his hold. The horse snorted in response to her agitation.
His arm tightenedaround her waist slightly enough to still her movements. “Stop that before ye fall. Ye’re in nay condition to be fightin’ me.”
He was right.Gabriella felt as though she was being stabbed by the jagged edges of broken glass. Every movement sent bolts ofpain through her limbs. The brief burst of energy from panic was bleeding away, leaving her hollow and trembling.
“I willnae let ye use me.”She summoned what little defiance she had left. “I’ll die first.”
Something flashed across his face.Gabriella thought it looked like… respect?
“Ye’re a fiery one,are ye nae, lass?” he said, his tone clipped, business-like. “But I assure ye, ye’ll be safe at Castle McCulloch. Nay one will harm ye.”
“Why should I believe you?”Gabriella challenged weakly, though the gravity of his tone confused her. “You caught me in that hunt like all the other lairds.”
“I caughtye to save ye, lass,” he replied. “Though ye might nae believe that yet.”
