Page 2 of The Anguish of the Scottish Lairds (Clans of Mull #3)

Eva

Early autumn, 1316, the Isle of Mull

Eva MacVey’s horse bolted, nearly tossing her out of the saddle, but she managed to hang on. “Snow Queen, stop!”

The horse ignored her, tearing across the path and into the forest, exactly as Eva feared the frightened beast would do. “Snow Queen!”

Eva glanced over her shoulder in time to see a horse and rider she didn’t recognize following her. Was the strange horse the reason her sweet mare had gone off the path?

She pulled the reins, urging the horse to slow, but she sped on, branches scratching her arms as she flew through the trees. “Stop, Queenie. Please!”

They were only a short distance from her home with two guards not far away—her brother insisted since she was sister to the chieftain of Clan MacVey—but she’d never been accosted on her horse before.

“Easy, Snow Queen. Whoa, girl.” Eva spoke in a low tone, attempting to calm her mount, yet she also feared the horse behind her might catch up. When she turned around, the strange rider had disappeared, but three other horses followed. Two were her guards, but the closest one was nearly upon her.

In one smooth move, the closest rider leaned over and lifted her off her horse, then settled her on his lap at first before adjusting her to sit in front of him. The loss of her rider slowed Snow Queen, the terror leaving the animal.

Sloan Rankin, chieftain of their neighboring clan, asked, “Are you hurt, Eva?”

Nearly falling off, she grabbed the saddle at the same time that Sloan wrapped his arm around her waist, steadying her. “I’ve got you.”

Something flipped inside her belly at his touch. She whirled and shoved at his chest, nearly knocking both of them off the horse. He tugged the reins and stayed on, helping her to keep upright on the beast, too, and his mount slowed.

As soon as she could, she took another swing at him. “Leave me be!”

“Eva, it’s me.” Sloan finally stopped the horse. “I’ll not hurt you.”

Embarrassed by her reaction, she mumbled, “I’m sorry, Sloan.”

Ahead, Snow Queen was heading back toward them. Eva turned sideways so she could face Sloan. “I didn’t mean to fight you. My thanks for coming after me.”

Her brother’s two guards came abreast, but Sloan waved them back to the path. “Eva,” he said, waiting to make sure the guards were far enough away not to hear his words. “What the hell did the earl do to you? You’ve never been afraid of me.”

He was right. She’d known Sloan all her life and knew he would protect her from anything and anyone. He’d just proven it. “I’m not afraid of you.” She swiped a falling tear from her cheek, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

Her brother had arranged for an English earl, Sir Basil de Stain, to meet her two moons ago. He’d come on two occasions, hoping for a match. Eva had felt more like a prize set on a table. He’d studied her, rarely speaking to her except for polite discussion, instead focusing on her brother, the chieftain. They’d conversed at length, to the point where her mother had said, “Are you interested in marrying my son or my daughter, my lord?”

The earl had shot daggers at her mother, but that never stopped Rut MacVey, who’d responded by crossing her arms and taking a step closer. “You’re ignoring my daughter.”

He’d replied, “She’s a lass. I have more important discussions available to me.”

Rut ground her heel on his instep until the boor winced. “Oh, pardon me.” Then she’d smiled and whisked her daughter away.

“I heard it didn’t go well, Eva. Your brother wasn’t fond of the earl, but did he hurt you?”

She shook her head. He hadn’t hurt her, just offended her. He’d asked to see her breasts when they were given a few moments in private at his request. Eva had been shocked, unable to speak, so he’d reached for her and attempted to yank off the top of her gown, but she’d pulled away and kicked him.

That had ended the impending betrothal.

And stirred a new hatred for men, though she reminded herself that Sloan was not like the earl.

Or was he? Were all grown men so crude? This question forced her to rethink her desire to ever marry. Even if her dear father were here to choose her betrothed for her, she would feel doubtful about marrying anyone after the way the earl treated her.

“Eva? I’m not convinced he didn’t hurt you.”

Eva smiled at Sloan. “Nay, he didn’t hurt me. He wished for more than I cared to give him, but my refusal upset him, so the betrothal ended before it even began.”

The look of fury on Sloan’s face went straight to her heart, but then his expression changed as quickly as a bolt of lightning in the night sky.

“You don’t deserve such treatment. If anyone ever abuses you again, please let me know and I will deal with it.” The fury had been replaced with a tenderness that warmed her insides.

There had been times over the years when she’d thought she and Sloan would suit, but after all she’d been through with the earl, she’d decided living alone would suit her better.

Now all she had to do was convince her mother and her brother.