Lord Keeper Read Online Free Page A

“I saw it in her eyes yesterday.”
    Comprehension dulled as the warrior before her reached out. Her stomach lurched and the darkening sky spun. He massaged her breast, and his focus sharpened in unison with a malicious smile. A low, guttural sound emanated from the man holding her. The man kneading the tender flesh of her breast ceased and jerked his head toward the forest.
    They started forward and Victoria stumbled, causing the arm around her to tighten painfully against her ribs. She gasped for air, barely aware her feet had left solid ground. The stream vanished from view as they entered the trees. The men made surprising progress, and she realized the safety of the camp would be a distant memory in minutes.
    Tears welled in her eyes. She strained in an effort to wrench a hand free, but the man holding her only snickered. She kicked and her heel made solid contact with his knee. Harsh Gaelic words ground out against her ear. The hand clamping her mouth yanked her head back, twisting it against his shoulder.
    “You will not enjoy the payment due for that,” he rasped. “Or mayhap you will. If you want it that way, just keep fighting, and obliging will be a pleasure.”
    He released her mouth and slid his hand down the smooth linen of her chemise until his fingers grasped a nipple. His pace slowed as he rolled it between his fingers. He pinched the nipple. Victoria drew back in shock, but this time not in reaction to his touch. Instead, recollection of another cruel hand rushed forward. Her mind staggered and her resolve fragmented with the unexpected memory.
    Rationale fought against the ghost, but it wasn’t a face she saw. Instead, like the man who held her now, it was the feel of his hot breath in her ear. Her husband’s whispered words on their wedding night had been as foreign as her captor’s Gaelic words. The same panic she experienced when Richard instructed her in his sexual preferences roared to life, and the inclination to comply as she had then, warred with the primal fight for survival.
    Her attacker’s hand fell from her breast, breaking the morbid trance. A cool wind whistled through the trees as if to say all would be well. Yet, as relief filtered through her, his arm slid around her hips, grinding her against his erection. His hand dropped lower, and Victoria screamed through the gag, bucking wildly when he cupped the area between her legs. He groaned, sending the sound reverberating past her screams and deep into the part of her that pleaded with him to stop.
    She kicked and thrashed, but her struggles didn’t halt the rise of her chemise as the fingers bunched the fabric into his fist, inching it ever higher. Tears stung when the heat of his hand on her thigh slid upward. Another hard kick hit him below the knee, but instead of stopping his efforts, it only hastened his hand’s contact with the curls that hid the most private part of her. A deep sob escaped her and her strength ebbed. Still, she crossed her legs and stiffened.
    With a low growl, the Fraser warrior came to a halt. Victoria forced back bile. He had finally chosen a place to finish the deed. A sword seemed to magically appear before them. She blinked as another, then another appeared. MacPhersons . Tears filled her eyes.
    Her assailant reached across her. She tensed upon realizing he was drawing his sword. The sight of his weapon gleaming against remaining shafts of sunlight that pierced the canopy was followed by the spectacle of his companion flying through the air in front of them, landing close to where the MacPherson swords stood in readiness. Her captor whirled.
    Strong hands wrenched Victoria free and pushed her to the ground. Dull pain radiated through her shoulder. She winced and blinked in the direction of the Fraser clansman as he lunged recklessly with his claymore, only to have it deflected with the steel of another, more skilled, sword. The Fraser warrior stepped back, but Iain MacPheson advanced on him.
    “Is that