Chapter Three
Red Holme eyed the blind lass riding beside him. 'Twas bizarre that she could ride a horse and not see where she was going. He was holding the bridle, but still… he was not entirely certain she couldn't see a little. Sometimes it seemed as if she was staring at him… straight into his eyes and into his soul. It felt unnatural.
He snorted, laughing at himself for the ridiculous thoughts.
Despite the scar on her face, Kristina still roused keen lust in him, as she always had. He yearned to wrap those long blond curls around his fingers and hold her down so he could take her any way and every way possible.
But from the first time he'd met her, she had treated him like bog scum. How snobbish she'd been, her nose upturned like a princess, golden earrings dangling from her ears. She still held that regal air, her spine straight as an arrow, but now her fine clothing was splattered with mud, and he saw no gold upon her.
It thrilled him to see her brought down to his level… lower than him, now that she was their hostage and couldn't see besides. He grinned. Somewhere along this trip he would take from her what he wanted. Once he'd humiliated her as she had him, he would be satisfied.
Blackburn didn't care about her beyond what leverage she provided to get his precious wife back. Kristina was naught but a pawn.
Blackburn veered off the trail and toward a grassy field near a loch. "Halt here!"
Holme muttered a curse under his breath. He was sick to death of following Blackburn's orders. The man was a bastard nobody, never meant to be a chief. Holme, on the other hand, was the legitimate son of the former MacKillican chief. But the title and lands of his father had been taken away by the king for a minor infraction. He'd been forced to drop his true name and take on a false one, else be arrested for the part he'd played in the battle more than ten years ago, just before the king had granted the land to another clan.
Holme was the one who was supposed to be a chief, not Blackburn… although of a different clan. Most of the men of the MacKillican clan were either dead or dispersed throughout the countryside. He retained some loyal friends from his own clan who now worked as guards for Blackburn—Dobson, Fordyce, Mungo, and Scroggie. Although the four were fearsome warriors, they were not enough to help him lay siege to Rhodie Castle, and he did not have enough coin to hire more men. Even if he did take back the castle he'd grown up in, the king would send out forces to kill him and anyone who followed him.
Still… sometimes, he would just love to have some revenge, even if it cost him his life. He was starting to realize being some other man's servant was a fate worse than death. His da would think him the lowest of cowards for not at least trying to regain their castle or to seek revenge against the thieves who now held it and who'd killed his da.
After Holme swung down from his horse, he was disappointed to find that Kristina had already dismounted as well. He'd wanted to grasp hold of her and lift her down, mayhap run his hand over her breast.
"Ralston?" Kristina called out.
"Why are you calling him?" Holme was sick of Ralston sticking by her like a leech, getting in his way.
She turned to Holme, one side of her face immaculately beautiful with fair, smooth skin, and the other side marred by a puckered, thick pink line. Her blue eyes were directed toward him, but unfocused. An unnerving chill ran through him.
"I must use the bushes," she said.
Imagining her hiking up her skirts in the middle of the field for everyone to see, Holme chuckled. Aye, he would love to see that. "Come. I'll help you." He clutched her arm.
She struggled to free herself from his hold. "Nay! Unhand me!"
Her forceful, demanding tone only aroused him more, but he released her. There were too many people around now, anyway. "Ralston, aye?" Holme asked. "Did you give him a wee peek earlier? Maybe you wish to drag him off into the bushes for some sport."
Her cheeks reddened. "Don't be ridiculous!"
Young Ralston approached, little more than a lad, 'haps in his early twenties, but he was brawny and strong. 'Twas why Blackburn had hired him. "Is everything all right, m'lady?"
"Nay, 'tis not. I have need of the privacy of the bushes again. Would you help me?"
"Of course. I see some just over there beyond the field. I'll stand guard." He took her hand and placed it around his bent elbow.
"Hold on there, Ralston," Holme said, annoyance spurring him. "She's no longer your charge. Blackburn wishes me to guard her."
The young man's blue eyes turned hard as ice. "You're harassing her and trying to take advantage."
"Is that what you think, wee pup? 'Haps you forgot I far outrank you."
Ralston clenched his jaw. "The chief wishes the lady kept safe until we reach the castle where his wife is being held."
Annoyance rising to the surface, Holme grasped Kristina's other arm. "I'll keep her safe in the bushes. Have no worries."
"Take your hands off her!" Ralston growled.
Dark rage near consumed Holme. "How dare you think to order me about? I am your commander!"
