Trouble with a Highland Bride Read Online Free Page A

blond hair, a pert nose, and pink lips, twisted into a determined expression. She was undeniably attractive. He indulged himself, watching her hips sway and letting his eyes roam over her figure. He would most likely have to take her as a temporary captive, just until things were sorted with the castle. Jack smiled. Of all the things he did out of loyalty and duty, this was one he was going to enjoy.
    The girl cut a sprig off one of the elders, an odd thing to do, and turned to return to the gate. He could not let her reach the door, and he quickened his pace. He almost had her when he stepped on a twig and it snapped. He lunged, but she spun, a long dirk in her hand, ready to attack.
    Jack skittered to a stop. Where did she learn to use a knife? Were all Highland ladies skilled fighters? His sword was strapped to his side, but he did not draw. He did not wish to fight the girl. He wanted to capture her. Take her to his tent. Tame the wild Highland lass.
    “Put down the knife,” he said in his most commanding voice. “You need to come with me.”
    She raised one eyebrow at him as if to say she thought him touched in the head. She turned and ran for the gate. He ran after her; it should have been a simple thing to run her down—if she weren’t so fast. Increasing his speed, he caught her around the waist, slamming them both to the ground. He thought he had her, but she was made of sterner stuff and instead of struggling to get free, she twisted to attack. She turned on him quickly, knife in hand, stabbing at his neck for the gap in his armor.
    He parried the attack with some difficulty. He was not unfamiliar with warfare—he had been taught since he was old enough to hold a stick—but he was caught off guard by this young thing. Who would have guessed within this adorable, young package beat the heart of warrior? Under normal circumstances, he would have fought back, striking at his opponent’s face, but he stayed his hand. She was simply too fair of face to hit.
    Seizing on his hesitation, she broke free and again ran for the gate. He cursed himself for his charity and rolled up to his feet, chasing after her. He caught her again, just as he stepped on one of his own caltrops. He hollered in pain and frustration as the nasty spike went through the leather of his boot and into his foot.
    “Let me go!” she cried.
    He was angry now and held on, taking her to the ground once more. This time he was prepared for her dirk and grabbed her wrist as she slashed, wrenching the weapon from her hand. He thought the fight was over, but once again she surprised him by drawing his own golden-handled knife from the sheath that hung around his waist and attempting to thrust it under his hauberk. He had to release her to avoid the blow, and she scrambled up again.
    He roared with frustration and pain as he regained his feet. The hot, searing pain of his foot was only rivaled by his frustration that this simple task was going so horribly wrong. And now she had his golden knife. It had been a present from his father, one that his uncles had muttered had been too extravagant for him. Jack would not, could not, return to camp to say he lost it. Worse yet, the Scots could show it to his uncles to gloat that they had disarmed one of their soldiers. No…no, he could not let that happen.
    He raced to the girl, ignoring the pain. She opened the gate, but he was right behind her. She shrieked and ran from him. He staggered in the gate, the hilt of his sword catching on the iron door and slamming it shut behind him. He did not care; he would catch this Highland wench if it was the last thing he did.
    ***
    Gwyn sprinted to the second gate, her heart pounding, a silent scream on her lips. The English soldier was staggering toward her at a fast clip. If he caught her…if he caught her he would have the keys. He could storm the castle and kill her and everyone she loved. And then her brother would strangle her in the afterlife for being so