Page 311 of Wicked Highland Heroes

“The very myths that probably got them banished by King James three years ago.”

Victoria frowned. “Banished? By what right?”

“Banishment is the least of their troubles,” Iain replied. “Many simply put them to death.”

“Sweet Jesu, why?”

“For being, as you say, Egyptians.”

She flushed at having used the slur. “They are just a people without a home.”

“By choice.”

“You condone the killing of them?”

Iain reached for the water bottle strapped to the side of his horse. “Nay.” He took a long swig, then offered her the bottle. She took it, swallowed a few drops, and passed it back. “I harbor no ill will toward them,” he said. “So long as they abide by the law

while on MacPherson land.”

“You mean MacPherson law.”

Iain met her gaze. “Aye, MacPherson law. Though you may think otherwise, MacPhersons are not a lawless clan.”

Victoria pursed her lips. “Still, the Gypsies are allowed no defense, no hope of reprieve—no choice?”

“Make no mistake,” Iain’s voice forced her gaze to him. “They have many choices. They know what to

expect, yet choose to traverse this land.”

Victoria opened her mouth to rebut, but realized she had no answer.

* * *

Victoria awoke to the sound of voices. Dazed by a strange darkness, a moment passed before she realized she no longer rode her horse, but was bundled in a blanket and sitting across familiar hard thighs. She tugged the tartan from her head. Cold air rushed across her cheeks and she instinctively leaned back into the solid warmth.

She blinked at sconces blazing from high stone walls and dropped her gaze to find a sizable crowd staring at her. She straightened and scanned her surroundings. A small well sat in the middle of the compound. Dim lights flickered past a grove of trees, indicating a number of small cottages.

Behind the cottages, a black mass jutted high into the darkened sky. She shifted her gaze left, and the sudden protrusion of the large stone castle confirmed they had reached their destination. A ripple of laughter drew her attention downward once more to find the crowd regarding her with curiosity. She stiffened. Iain looked down at her. He glanced at the group pressing closer, then back to her, understanding registering in his eyes. His focus shifted from her face and she followed his gaze to a man pushing his way forward.

The man stopped beside their horse and regarded her. “What have we here?”

“Take her,” Iain said, and Victoria found herself being handed down to the stranger.

He grasped her waist and lowered her to the ground. Iain tossed his reins and saddlebag to a nearby man and dismounted. The stranger released Victoria and she stepped back. He clasped Iain’s arm just above his wristband, and the two men embraced then separated.

“Cousin.” Iain smiled. “All has been well at

Fauldun Castle?”

“Aye,” he answered, a frown creasing his handsome face. “Better than they have with you, perhaps?” He motioned toward the Fraser warrior.

Victoria shivered at the sight of the man being herded toward the castle at the point of Nathan’s sword.

“We had a bit of trouble,” Iain replied.

“Trouble or pleasure, mon ami?”

Victoria blinked at hearing French come from the Highlander’s mouth. His attention swung onto her, and she recognized a twinkle of mischief in his green eyes. He’d read her surprise and clearly found it amusing. Who was this man?