Page 1 of Tempted by a Highland Beast (Tales of Love and Lust in the Murray Castle #9)
CHAPTER ONE
Rowena MacKenzie would have done anything to get away.
The rope chafed against her wrists as Gregor hauled her from the saddle, his meaty hands gripping her arms with bruising force.
Her horse snorted and danced sideways, sensing her distress, but there was nowhere to run.
Dense Highland forest pressed in on all sides, and Hamish, the second man that had come after her and managed to get her, blocked the only clear path with his mount.
They both looked at her like she was nothing more than a runaway horse to be corralled and returned to her stall.
“Thought ye could slink off like a wee mouse, did ye?” Gregor’s breath reeked of ale and rotted teeth. “Alpin’s been waiting in the chapel since first light. Nae very bride-like, leavin’ yer groom coolin’ his heels, eh?”
Rowena lifted her chin, meeting his leering gaze with all the defiance she could muster. “He is nae me groom. I never agreed tae this farce!”
Hamish barked a laugh, sharp enough to startle the birds overhead. “Agreed? Ye think a lass like ye gets a say in who her husband is? Yer faither’s dead. Alpin’s the laird now, and if he says ye’ll wed this day, then wed ye will.”
“Me faither named me his heir?—”
“Aye? And what good is a lass fer an heir with nay husband tae guide her?” Gregor yanked her forward, and she stumbled. “Alpin’s done right by the clan, taking the lead in a time of need. With him the power stays within the kin, with a man who kens how tae use it.”
How easily they all are tae forget their own. Alpin’s nae even part of the kin! He only wormed his way close tae faither because he’s me step-maither’s braither.
They pulled her closer to the horse, and when Rowena struggled, Hamish tightened his hold on her, wrenching her back by the upper arm.
The rope around her wrists bit into raw skin as she twisted, fighting to loosen the knot through sheer friction.
Every tug made her wrists burn, but she couldn’t stop. She needed a way out.
Rowena’s gaze darted around, taking in every shadow and thicket.
The forest was dense here, but not impenetrable.
If she could break free, if she could run, there might be a path hidden just beyond the rise to her left, where the trees thinned and a narrow game trail curved out of sight.
But she’d only get one chance. One wrong move and they’d have her flat on her face, bound tighter, or worse.
“He has nay blood claim,” she said, her voice steady despite the panic clawing at her chest. “The elders will nae stand fer it?—”
“They will accept what they’re told tae.” Hamish’s tone had the lazy cruelty of a man who’d never heard the word no. “Our new laird’s already got his bride in hand, and the priest ready tae bless it.”
Rowena’s mind raced. Once those vows were spoken, there would be no undoing them. Alpin would have a legal claim to everything: her inheritance, her clan, her very body. The thought made her stomach churn. She could not let her people suffer from his hunger for power.
“Besides,” Gregor muttered, adjusting his grip as if she were nothing more than a sack of grain, “ye ought tae be grateful. Alpin could’ve secured his place any number o’ ways. Marriage is the kindest.”
The threat hung in the air like a cloud of smoke. Rowena understood perfectly. Resist the marriage, and there might be an unfortunate accident. A grieving uncle, forced to take control of a clan left leaderless by tragedy.
“He’s been patient with ye,” Hamish said, reining his horse nearer. “But patience wears thin. Today, ye’ll be his wife. Time ye made yersel’ useful as a woman should.”
Heat flooded Rowena’s cheeks at the crude implication, but she forced herself to remain calm. Panic would serve no one, least of all the people who were still counting on her to protect them from Alpin’s rule.
Had any of them truly believed in me faither’s choice? Or had they simply been waiting fer an excuse tae set aside a female heir they’d never wanted?
The bitter thought twisted in her chest. Perhaps this betrayal had been inevitable from the moment her father had named her successor instead of seeking a male cousin to inherit the lairdship of Clan MacKenzie.
Gregor began pulling her toward his mount, and Rowena let her feet drag against the leafy ground, buying precious seconds to think. The forest around them was thick, unfamiliar territory she’d never explored. But unfamiliar might mean unguarded paths, routes these men wouldn’t expect her to run to.
“On with ye, then,” Hamish called. “Alpin’s got the whole clan gathered. It’ll dae ye nay good tae keep them waiting.”
As Gregor bent to boost her onto his saddle, Rowena saw her chance. The man’s attention was split between controlling his restless horse and maintaining his grip on her. Hamish was several paces away, confident in his partner’s ability to handle one desperate woman.
They’d underestimated her.
Rowena drove her elbow back into Gregor’s ribs with every ounce of strength she possessed.
Oh me God, I cannae believe I did this!
He doubled over with a grunt of pain, his grip loosening just enough for her to wrench free.
Her hands were still bound, but the rope had begun to fray; she’d been working at it nonstop, twisting and pulling while they dragged her.
She spun toward her own mount, but Hamish was already spurring his horse forward, his face dark with rage.
“Ye little?—”
Rowena vaulted onto her horse’s back and dug her heels in hard. The mare leaped forward, crashing through the undergrowth as shouts erupted behind her. Branches whipped at her face and tore at her dress, but she leaned low over the horse’s neck and urged her faster.
Behind her, she could hear the thunder of pursuit beginning, the crash of bodies through the forest, and Hamish’s voice roaring orders. But for the first time since dawn, when she’d awakened to find her chamber door barred and Alpin’s men standing guard, Rowena felt a fierce spark of hope.
I willnae be dragged tae that altar. Nae today.
The forest opened ahead of her, and she, Rowena MacKenzie would do anything to get away and halt, even for a moment, the vicious plans of the uncle she had come to despise with all her heart.
The wind snatched at her unbound red hair and stung her eyes. The rhythmic pounding of her horse’s hooves against the muddy earth was a relentless drumbeat, echoing the frantic hammer of her heart.
Rowena’s eyes darted through the blurring trees as she searched desperately for any familiar landmark, any sign that she was not utterly lost, but there was none.
There were only endless woods and the loud echo of hooves pounding the forest floor. The chilling certainty that her step-uncle’s men were closing in on her. She’d glimpsed the determined faces of men who enjoyed a hunt.
“Ye can dae this, ye can,” she muttered to herself, trying to keep the panic from clawing at her throat. “Think, Rowena. Ye can always find a way.”
She urged the mare on. The loyal creature was clearly at its limit, and her lungs were raw from the frigid air she gulped in, but she would not stop. She would not yield. Submission meant a fate far worse than the biting cold.
Her heart slammed furiously against her chest. He is nae going tae force me tae marry him.
She had to escape, to fight with every fiber of her being until she drew her last breath. A new wave of fear ripped her from her thoughts as a brutal crashing sound drew close.
The hulking brute named Gregor, was gaining on her.
“Stop now, lass, or we’ll run ye down!” he yelled.
“The laird said tae bring ye back alive, but he didnae say ye need tae be in one piece!” His horse was a dark blur through the trees, and its heavy breathing was almost louder than her ragged gasps.
Laird Alpin . Rowena scoffed mirthlessly. It surely hasn’t taken the fùdar any time tae get comfortable.
The man’s hand lashed out, his fingers grazing the edge of her gown. “Ye cannae run forever!” he barked. “I’ll have ye soon enough, and ye’ll wish I hadnae!”
Rowena’s eyes went wide with terror, but she spun with a snarl. “Ye’ll have tae kill me first!”
There was no time to think. With a surge of adrenaline, she yanked hard on the reins and forced her exhausted horse into a gap barely wide enough to squeeze through.
Gregor’s larger warhorse crashed against the rough, unyielding rock. Its rider cursed loudly as he was thrown off course, buying Rowena a few precious seconds.
The terrain grew rougher still, and the path narrowed to little more than a deer trail, winding through thickets of thorny gorse and tangled roots that threatened to ensnare the mare’s legs.
She pushed the horse, exhausting the animal’s last reserves, and they suddenly burst into a clearing that gave way to an open bank.
A vast shimmering expanse appeared before her. A loch!
Its surface was a sheet of steel grey under the shifting clouds. It was wide and still, reflecting the bleak morning sky.
Hope surged in her chest. For one reckless moment, she imagined herself plunging into its depths, losing herself beneath the cold water, and leaving her pursuers to search in vain.
But the thought vanished as quickly as it came.
She didn’t know how deep the waters would be, or whether the weight of her soaked gown would pull her under.
She had come too far to risk losing her life in a desperate bid to vanish.
Her thighs ached from riding, every muscle tight from gripping the saddle too long.
The cold bit at her face, but her back was damp with sweat beneath her cloak, her breath misting in shallow, ragged bursts.
She had not dared to stop, not even once.
Her fingers, stiff around the reins, trembled from more than the chill.
She urged the weary horse towards the pebbled shore, desperate for anything but the suffocating press of the forest. Anything but the gnawing fear that she would hear hoofbeats again behind her.