Page 8 of Taken By the Savage Highlander

“Ye can try,” he said, leaning in close to speak directly into her ear, his own animalistic urges driving him even further. If his mere presence had this effect on her, he had to know what teasing, what words would do. “But once ye’re in me bed, and do exactly as I say, ye will beg for more.”

The effect was instantaneous. Her sharp intake of breath was delicious. The way she seemed to sway in even closer without conscious thought was nearly enough to break his composure.

Her body seemed to shake, almost as if her emotions were twisted. Cameron could practically taste her fear, her fury. And, underneath it all, was something that smelled even sweeter.

He leaned back, taking in the flush riding high on her cheeks. Her lips were parted. Her pupils were blown so large he could only see a tiny ring of hazel surrounding the inky pools.

“Ye will do yer duty,” he said, finally taking a step away from her.

Without turning his back on her, he grabbed a quill from his desk. He gestured for her to come forward, dipping the nib into the pot of ink. Perhaps it would be easier to tell her that it was not him that demanded this, but he did not imagine she would believe him.

It’s nae like I’ve given her reason to think I’m nae a wild beast.

“That’s beneath me,” she said, moving away from him as her anger caused her form to coil like a snake about to strike.

Cameron growled before he could stop himself; the way she moved enticed him as though he were a starving dog. He swallowed down around it. Even if he wanted to grab hold of her and force her hand, he knew better.

I will wait her out. She’s bull-headed, but she kens that she doesnae have a choice. Neither of us have a choice.

CHAPTER FIVE

Margo stared up at him, her blood boiling. The contract she held in her hand felt humiliating, almost incriminating. To think that he would demand an heir after pulling her from her home and springing a handfasting ceremony on her was unthinkable.

Yet, he’s done it.

For a moment, she considered ripping the parchment apart and throwing it into the hearth. That would do nothing for her, though. She was already married to him. In the eyes of the law, she belonged to him, and there was not a thing she could do about it.

“I will sign,” she finally said, so quietly her voice barely carried over the crackle of the hearth.

Laird MacLeod looked genuinely surprised at her acquiescence. It was not for him, though. She would cooperate, but only to leverage her new position.

Before he could speak again, she crossed the room as she squared her shoulders. Plucking the quill from his hand, she said, “But I have one condition.”

His frown deepened, the line between his brows making him look more austere. It seemed that coming closer had unsettled him. It was almost as if he had not expected her to be just as bold as he.

Good. It serves you right.

“Speak it,” he finally said, gruff and reluctant.

Margo swallowed once. Then, keeping her eyes locked on his, she said, “I want my sister brought here. I need Eleanor away from that house. Away from that man.”

Somehow, she had gotten closer, eliminating the distance that he had put between them. She saw his mind working, processing what she had said. It was almost as if he was surprised to hear her speak of her father in this way.

Then, something in his expression changed. He was still wearing that stony frown, but his eyes flickered. It was recognition, she thought. And something else. Something she could not quite parse out.

“Aye,” Laird MacLeod said at last, his chin dipping slightly. “The lass will be brought North. I will make sure of it.”

He stepped to the side then, giving her the space to step forward to the desk. A little dazed at how quickly he had agreed, she brought both the contract and the quill forward. Then, with shaking hands, she signed her name.

“There,” she said, putting the quill down with more force than necessary. “I have done it.”

He shifted forward, his eyes scanning the pages as if looking for another place that her signature might be needed. When he found nothing on the first, he pulled the second closer. His finger tapped along a line at the bottom.

Nodding, she dipped the quill in the ink once more. Her hand was steadier as she signed the second time. It was guided by her mother, by the promise she had made to keep her little sister safe. Whatever it took to get Eleanor safe. If it meant giving MacLeod an heir, she would do so.

When she finished signing with a flourish of her wrist, she pressed the quill into MacLeod’s palm. Something like lightning passed between them. Margo wondered if there was a similarity between them she could not see; the way they were both bound to a duty they did not choose.

No. There’s nothing about us that is the same. I cannot let myself think of him as anything other than the man who agreed to take me as a payment.