Highland Obsession Read Online Free Page B

waist, still wet with Alan’s semen.
    Alan’s enraged shouts sounded from the doorway behind him, but Cam did not spare him a glance. Instead, his lips twitched. Sweet victory. She would be his once more.
    He turned the horse toward Camdonn Castle just as Sorcha’s teeth sank into his arm.

CHAPTER TWO

    “oddamnyou!”Alan ignored the searing pain in his balls and the nausea boiling low in his stomach. Fury swept through him, angry, hot, and painful. He tried to dodge past the enormous man blocking his way, but the tip of the sword nicked Alan’s shoulder, and a hot line of blood trickled down his chest. “You bastard,” Alan growled. “Let me pass!”
    Beyond the man’s bulk, he saw Cam toss Sorcha on a horse.
    The unreality of the situation slammed into him. Impossibly, unbelievably, the Earl of Camdonn— his friend Cam —had just broken into his home and abducted his new wife. What in the name of God did Cam think he was doing?
    Raindrops shimmered over her pale, bare skin. Cam threw a red tartan plaid over her, his movements clumsy because she writhed and squirmed in his grasp. She put up one hell of a fight with her small body, but her attempts proved ineffective against the height and strength of the Earl of Camdonn.
    As Cam urged the horse to a gallop, Sorcha’s eyes met Alan’s for the briefest of seconds. The wild look of fear he saw there made him roar in frustration. His wife was being abducted—by Cam, of all people—and Alan, damn besotted fool that he was, couldn’t protect her.
    Alan had let his guard down. The pleasure Sorcha brought him had made him soft. He had allowed this to happen. He had failed to protect what was his. It was his fault and his responsibility to make things right.
    Alan turned his glare to the brute blocking his exit. He knew the man—Angus MacLean. MacLean trailed everywhere after Cam like a damned lap dog.
    “Get the hell out of my way.”
    MacLean shook his head, and his pockmarked face twisted into a sneer. “Nay.”
    Alan shifted to a fighting stance. He was naked and vulnerable without a weapon, but goddammit, he wasn’t about to let that prevent him from going after Sorcha.
    MacLean didn’t move his sword tip from Alan’s chest. “You just stay put there, MacDonald, and sit tight till his lordship finishes with yer wife and brings her back.” He paused and frowned, his brow furrowed in confusion. “Make that if his lordship brings her back.”
    Alan’s lip curled. “Go to hell, MacLean.” He offered up a silent prayer that MacLean was as idiotic with a sword as he was with everything else. Alan was certain Cam kept MacLean near only to intimidate, because intimidate he did—he was a giant of a man, half a head taller than the doorframe and almost as wide.
    MacLean waved the sword menacingly. His movements were clumsy and ungraceful, not the precise swipes of a skilled swordsman.
    “I dinna want to kill ye, MacDonald.”
    “Well, that’s a good thing, MacLean, because I’ve no desire to die by your hand,” Alan said evenly.
    MacLean lowered the sword, and a grin played about his lips. No doubt he actually believed Alan would give up and passively allow his onetime friend to carry off his naked wife on their wedding night.
    Alan ducked his head and rammed his body into MacLean’s, using every ounce of power he could muster.
    “Oof!” MacLean’s breath wheezed out of him. He reeled backward until his beefy body slammed the edge of the doorframe, causing the cottage to shudder and the sword to slide from his fat fingers. It crashed onto the wet flagstones just as MacLean’s feet slipped out from under him. He landed flat on his back, half inside the cottage, half out. Alan leaped on top of him and slammed his fist into the big man’s jaw before he could regain his bearings.
    Alan scrambled for the sword, grabbing the hilt just as MacLean thrust a giant fist into his wounded shoulder. Gritting his teeth against the jarring pain, Alan smashed the