Page 3 of A Wife for the Highland Villain (Breaking the Highland Rules #3)

She folded her arms, her chin raised higher than it had any right to be. “So… whose horse will become me own now?”

Alasdair arched an eyebrow. “Yer own horse? Whatever do ye need it for?”

“Ye want me to go with ye, do ye nae? I want me own horse.”

“Nay.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Whyever nae?”

“Because,” he said, loosening his grip on the reins, “ye’ll be riding with me.”

“With ye?” she sputtered, as if the thought alone sickened her. “Is this a joke?”

“It isnae. We are husband and wife, are we nae? Nay matter how hard ye try to deny it. Thought it made sense.”

She scoffed. “A laird comes all the way to fetch a woman and doesnae think to bring a spare horse?”

He smirked. “I thought ye’d enjoy the closeness.”

“Well, I willnae,” she snapped. “If I’m to be kidnapped, I should at least be granted a little dignity. A bit of freedom.”

“Ye’re nae being kidnapped,” he said, his voice calm. “Ye’re nae being taken to a dungeon. Ye’re being escorted to yer rightful place. Ye need to relax.”

“Relax?” She stared at him, her lips parted in disbelief. “Ye drag me from the market, call me yer wife, toss me on a horse, and now I’m meant to relax?”

“This doesnae have to be as hard as ye seem intent on making it.”

“I’m nae the one who rides into a village with men and takes an unwilling woman now, am I?”

Alasdair let out a slow breath. “Fine. We can argue all day, but we need to leave before nightfall. So, ride with me.”

A tense silence settled between them, and out of the corner of her eye, she could have sworn she saw Nathan fight a smile.

“Fine. I will,” she eventually said, much to his relief. “But I’m sitting in front.”

“In front?”

“Aye,” she uttered. “I want to see what’s ahead. I need to feel like I’m in control of something.”

“Ye cannae sit in front. I’m riding the?—”

She arched an eyebrow.

Alasdair hesitated, his jaw tight, then nodded once. “If that is what it takes.”

She walked toward the horse, pulling her skirt up enough to place her foot in the stirrup. When he reached out to help her, she shoved his hand aside.

“I daenae need yer help,” she said.

He let his hand fall, saying nothing.

Once she was settled, he swung up behind her, his chest brushing against her back as he settled in. He lifted a hand and called out to the men ahead. “Go on. We’ll follow behind.”

With a nod, the others urged their horses forward and vanished along the trail.

Alasdair adjusted his grip on the reins, trying not to notice the scent of rosemary and lavender on her. She was warm, and her body pressed against his with every step the horse took. He tried not to think about it, but failed miserably.

They rode in silence, the trail leading up to hills and thick forest. The air was cooler now, and shadows stretched across the path. Her dark hair brushed his chin, her back rising and falling steadily.

Then, she shifted. It was slight and subtle, but enough to awaken the lower part of him.

He cleared his throat. “Stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“Moving like that against me.”

“Why?” she asked with a teasing lilt. “Because ye cannae control yerself around a woman?”

He leaned close, his lips by her ear. “Because if I stop controlling meself, ye willnae be able to handle it.”

Her laugh was soft and breathy. Then, she did it again. She took a deep breath and shifted again, pressing herself fully against him.

Alasdair clenched his jaw. He could feel the heat building in his groin and his body betraying him without shame. It didn’t take much time for him to strain hard against the small of her back.

God, he wasn’t sure how much of this he could handle, but the heat continued to build. He felt the first twitch with her hips remaining tucked between his thighs. The feeling sent jolts of lightning down his spine.

He ground his teeth, his fingers clenched around the reins. “Sit still,” he growled into her ear, but it came out lower than he meant.

Every movement of the horse rubbed her against him. Against the part of him he was struggling to ignore.

Her hand reached behind and tugged him closer. Their faces hovered close enough that he could feel her breath on his cheek, and he stared at her mouth.

Then, before he could speak—hell, before he could blink—sharp pain splintered across his thigh. He cried out, his voice echoing through the trees. The horse jolted beneath them, nearly throwing them both.

Lily jumped off immediately and rolled away. She hit the ground hard, but was already back on her feet, her skirts billowing behind her as she ran into the dark forest surrounding them.

“Lily!” he bellowed.

Nathan and the others turned their horses sharply.

“Keep riding!” Alasdair shouted through gritted teeth. “Keep going!”

Pain throbbed through his leg. The dagger was buried deep, the hilt slick with blood. He grabbed it with one hand and yanked. His breath caught, and pain, almost as hot as fire, surged through his muscles.

Nathan rode up beside him, wide-eyed. “Me Laird?—”

“I said, go.”

“She stabbed ye!”

“Aye,” Alasdair hissed. “And I’ll deal with it.”

Nathan started to protest.

Alasdair slid off the saddle, nearly falling when his boot hit the ground. His leg burned, and each step felt like a curse.

“She’s me wife,” he growled. “If anyone is bringing her back, it’ll be me.”

He tied the horse to a nearby tree and limped toward the trees, blood dripping down his boot.

“Ye want a chase, Lily?” he muttered. “I’ll give ye one.”

Branches scraped at her arms as she ran, but she didn’t stop. Her lungs burned, and the hem of her skirt tangled around her legs. Yet, she pushed forward, grateful for the dagger now gone from her hands.

A part of her did wonder how long it would take her to get away. She should be hearing hoofbeats by now. Alasdair should have sent his men right behind her. They should be hot on her trail.

So why couldn’t she hear them?

She had little time to think and less time to hide.

The woods were thick, and the moon had vanished from the sky.

It was tucked behind clouds or mountains, and every step she took was taken in blind faith.

She stumbled once, caught herself, and darted behind a thick old tree.

The bark was rough and cold beneath her palms.

She waited, her heart beating hard in her chest. Nothing could be heard except for the sound of crickets and the occasional flutter of wingbeats through the trees. Other than that, there was only silence. The kind that seemed to press on even harder as she struggled to steady her heartbeat.

She was about to rise to her feet and continue running when she heard him.

“I am wounded, Lily,” Alasdair’s voice rang out. Not far, but not close either. He had to be nearby. “But ye ken me. If ye really think a mild injury will stop me, ye have another thing coming.”

She clenched her jaw and held her breath.

That cocky bastard.

“Save us both the trouble and just come out.”

She didn’t move. Her back remained pressed to the tree as she slowly peeked around the edge. She couldn’t see anything except the thick cover of the night and the faint shadows of the trees that surrounded her. She couldn’t hear his men.

He had come after her alone, despite being wounded. Was that how certain of himself he was?

Something about that did not sit well with her.

“Ye daenae have to wait for me to find ye,” he repeated.

Now he was beginning to get on her nerves with that smugness in his voice.

She bolted again, weaving between tree trunks until she found another hiding place. This one was low and was well covered behind a tangle of bushes.

“I’m nae taking ye to yer death,” he added. “I’m asking ye to save lives. To take yer rightful place beside me as Lady MacRay. As their queen .”

Her heart pounded in her ears, and the anger in her gut was growing by the second. Did he really think he could swoop in with the promise of making her a Lady, and she’d agree just like that?

“I ken I’ve been gone for a long time. I ken I hurt ye. But I am here now. So please, stop acting like a child, and let’s get on with it.”

Her rage flared.

Child ?

She stood up, her voice echoing sharply through the trees. “How dare ye!”

A pause ensued, then she stepped out of the shadows, her fists clenched.

“How dare ye call me a child!” she shouted. “Ye disappeared! Left without a word! Left before we could even begin to build anything. And now ye stand before me and call me a child?”

She saw him then, just ahead. He emerged from the shadows, limping slightly.

“We can settle this somewhere else, Lily. Come with me,” he said.

“Nay.” She turned around and ran again.

His footsteps followed, fast and heavy.

She only made it so far before he tackled her from behind.

The ground gave way beneath them, and they tumbled down a slope, their limbs tangled. Her elbow hit a rock, and his grunt echoed as his leg shifted beneath her. Lily shouted and kicked at his thigh where she’d stabbed him earlier. He winced, his body tensing in pain, but he didn’t let go.

She thrashed and tried to roll out from under him, but he was stronger. His hands caught her wrists, and he pinned them above her head, holding her still. Their bodies pressed together, both of them breathing hard.

Their faces were only inches apart as his weight pinned her down. She could see the outline of his cheek, the cut on his brow. Even in the darkness, she could see the sweat on the seam of his lips.

“Please,” he said, his voice low and rough.