Ravished by a Highlander Read Online Free Page B

robes? Whoever had attacked the Abbey wanted her to burn. Was she believed to be a witch? Rob did not doubt she could
     be, for her beauty near pierced his soul when she first looked at him. She had an almost feline appearance; with large, wide-set
     elongated eyes as big and as blue as the fathomless heavens behind her. Her pale brows flared upward toward her slightly oversized
     ears. The perfect hourglass silhouette of her nose ended in a tiny knob stained with soot. Her lips were plump and naturally
     pouty and as beguiling as all hell.
    Rob had heard tales of fairies from their neighbors, the MacLeods. Magical beings so bonnie, one look could fell the heart
     of the most resolute warrior. As if to add to Lady Montgomery’s otherworldly appearance, her hair, though streaked with ash,
     glimmered beneath the sun in shades of pale gold and shimmering silver. He bent his head to her to inhale her scent. She smelled
     of smoke and soot, but then, he imagined they all did.
    It wasn’t difficult to understand why an English captain would beg for her safety. But what were men from the Royal Army doing
     at St. Christopher’s? A dozen questions nagged at Rob’s thoughts. The lass offered no answers, though he was certain she could
     provide them. Save for a gasp now and then at the speed of his horse, she hadn’t uttered a single word in over an hour. She
     barely moved against him, her soft body pressing into his chest, making him more uncomfortable than when she fought him. Shock,
     he imagined. He could feel the sorrow in her heavy breath and he had to struggle to keep his heart from breaking for her.
     If he lost everyone he loved, he would go mad with grief. She felt small and vulnerable in the crook of his arm and the need
     to protect her flared in his veins more powerful than anything he’d ever felt before.
    Hell, just what he needed, another responsibility in his life. At least, she would be until he delivered her to En—gland’s
     new king. Already a part of him did not want to give her up, but it was obvious that whoever wanted her dead wanted it badly
     enough to battle the king’s soldiers. The safety of Rob’s clan came first. If she belonged to the king, then let the king
     protect her.
    Shifting in his saddle, Rob held back a slight groan through a tightly clenched jaw. His arm was throbbing and growing stiffer
     with each breath. It would be useless should they be attacked.
    “Did ye discover who shot ye through, Rob?” The question was asked by Finlay Grant. Rob should have known the lad was riding
     close enough to him to see his discomfort.
    “Aye,” was all he replied.
    “Yer faither will have all our heads when he learns o’ yer wound,” Angus mumbled out loud when they finally slowed their mounts
     to a more leisurely pace.
    Will accepted the small pouch Angus held out to him, and tossed the old warrior a challenging grin. “It gives me great humor
     to know that ye’re as frightened o’ the laird as the village women are.” Ignoring Angus’s fervent protests to the contrary,
     he took a hearty swig of the potent whisky, shivered in his saddle, and passed the pouch to Rob. “’Tis poison.”
    Shaking his head, Rob declined the offering. “My faither will understand why I fought. The wound is no’ so bad and will be
     on its way to healin’ by the time we reach Westminster—”
    The lass whirled around so quickly, she near slipped from his lap. “You’re taking me to Westminster?”
    Hell, her effect on him was worse than any lethal brew Angus carried in the folds of his plaid. Rob had wanted to look at
     her again since they left the Abbey, to let his gaze linger over the pale coral of her lips, to take his time studying the
     perfect symmetry of her countenance, the purity of her milky complexion. But it was the fear and desperation in her eyes as
     she stared up at him that tugged stronger on his heart. Damnation, what came over him?
    “To the Duke of York’s coronation,