Page 371 of Wicked Highland Heroes

Grant.”

“Sweet Jesu.” Victoria dropped down onto the tall grass. “What have I done?”

“What is amiss?” He squatted beside her.

“I have no wish to marry your son.”

He frowned. “Then why did you come with me?”

“How was I to know you intended marriage?” She leaned over, sure she would be ill.

“Every MacPherson woman knows that,” he said. “I am not a MacPherson woman.”

Samuel studied her with a considering air, then said, “Who are you?”

“I am English. You noticed that,” Victoria answered peevishly. “And it was no lie when I said Iain MacPherson took me. He thinks to make me his wife.”

Samuel’s frown deepened. “A Sassenach wife for the MacPherson?” He wagged his head. “I do not believe it.”

“Neither did I,” Victoria mumbled.

“You are a pretty thing.” His gaze moved over her in a masculine manner. “You would make a fine mistress.”

Victoria shot him an indignant look. “I promise you, sir, I would not.”

Samuel winced. “Perhaps not. You would prefer to be wife, then?”

A quiver rippled through her stomach. Iain MacPherson’s wife? She shoved aside the thought. “If you are asking whether I would prefer to be wife or

mistress, I say neither.”

Bushy brows drawn together, Samuel took on a look of polite bewilderment. “You cannot have it both ways, lassie. It will be one or the other. Hmm.” He paused, and Victoria had the feeling the studious look on his face didn’t bode well for her. “I could save Iain a great deal of trouble and have you wed Grant anyway. I cannot believe the MacPherson is in his right mind. Then again, if Iain is anything like his father, that could prove a mistake. His mother ran off with another man, you know.”

Victoria needed no reminders of that story. The churning of her stomach was interrupted by the sound of fast approaching riders. She and Samuel looked up as one of his men appeared.

“Riders.” The man pointed in the direction he had just come. “Ten minutes away.”

Samuel jumped up. “How did they find out you were gone so quickly?” He shot her an accusing look and motioned for his horse. “Mayhap it would be best if we left you here, lass.”

Victoria’s heart jumped to a gallop. Left to her own devices she could make for the castle she had learned lay no more than thirty minutes to the north. Reaching for the reins of her horse, she lifted her foot to the stirrup.

“Nay,” Samuel said. “We will take the horse.

Never mind,” he went on, his voice all reassurance, “you are in no danger. Iain will find you quick enough.”

“But the horse belongs to him,” Victoria shouted to their backs.

She took a few steps toward the band as it disappeared into the darkness before the sound of their retreating hooves were drowned out by the approach of horses behind her. Victoria looked frantically for any form of refuge. Gathering her skirts, she hurried down the hillside, hoping to reach the bushes that lined the bottom of the hill. She hadn’t yet reached them when a shout went up. Victoria dropped to the ground, but a moment later, she was surrounded by her pursuers.

Iain vaulted from his horse and yanked Victoria to her feet. Their eyes met for a dangerous second, then he took a single step forward, bringing their bodies thigh to thigh. His arm shot around her back and, clutching her waist, he lifted her from the ground. Victoria knew an instant of lightheadedness when the wind was squeezed out of her as Iain jerked her hard against his midsection.

She tensed, an unexpected rush of cold air on her legs bringing the comprehension that he was yanking her skirt up. There was no time to protest the breeze against her bare bottom when the sound of a hard slap registered the stinging on her rear end.

“How dare you,” she screamed, but another slap answered. Victoria thrashed. Iain held her tighter, leaving her gasping for breath. “Nay!” The choked shriek was followed by yet another slap, and another, and another. Iain planted her feet back on the ground.

Victoria staggered, but he steadied her, eyes blazing. She opened her mouth, but he cut her off. “The next one will be with my belt against your bare arse.” Iain turned to his men. “Bring Samuel Menzies back,” he shouted.

The men whirled and, in the next instant, Victoria found herself alone with her captor. Iain pulled her to his side and stepped into his saddle. She yelped when he hauled her across his lap, her stomach across his hard thighs. Iain urged his horse forward, the motion jarring Victoria, causing the pommel to dig into the soft flesh of her stomach.