Read Highlander Unchained for Free Online

chit had spirit. Misplaced, perhaps, but she would learn her place. He did not tolerate disrespect, especially from a woman. But with her eyes blazing, hands on her hips, and stubborn little chin lifted toward him, he was glad she didn’t have another dirk.
    “Such foul language for a proper ‘lady’ of court.”
    She looked as though she’d like to rattle off a few others. Instead, she studied him with increasing scrutiny. “How did you know where I’d be?”
    He shrugged.
    Her eyes narrowed. “You were spying on me.”
    He didn’t deny it.
    “But I don’t understand. Even if you were watching me, how could you possibly know it was me leaving the palace? Even Lord Murray didn’t realize it was me until I climbed into the carriage.”
    He hadn’t. Not right away. But then again, he’d also had the advantage in knowing what she intended. He’d waited outside the palace gates for three nights. And he’d seen the woman stepping into Lord Murray’s carriage and almost dismissed her, thinking it was a maidservant. But something niggled at him, and he’d taken a closer look. And happened to glance down.
    He pointed at her feet. At the tips of the delicately embroidered silk slippers now covered in mud that peeked out from beneath her gown. “The shoes.” He bent a little closer and said in a low voice, “Next time you don a disguise, try not to let vanity interfere.”
    Her cheeks flamed. He’d guessed correctly. Glaring daggers, she whirled around and started off. Giving him the space he needed to tend to his wound.
    “Don’t take too long, Flora,” he called after her. “Or I will come after you.” There was no mistaking the threat in his voice.
    She pretended not to hear him and stomped off in the direction of a meadow.
     
    Undone by a pair of slippers, Flora thought morosely, kicking the dirt with the tip of her ruined shoe.
    He was right, curse his wretched soul. She knew it was ridiculous, but she loved shoes. They were her one indulgence. She just couldn’t bear the thought of being married in plain leather, and with her wooden pattens on to protect her from the mud, she didn’t think anyone would notice the delicate satin slippers.
    But he had. He noticed everything with those penetrating eyes. Blast him.
    Flora nibbled on a dry bit of oatcake, which she’d never liked even in the best of circumstances, and washed down the offending grain with a sip of ale. By the time he’d finally decided to stop, she’d been close to begging to attend to her personal needs. Not to mention starving. Hungry enough to choke down oatcakes and be glad of them. The bit of dried beef one of his men had brought her was considerably better, but she’d finished that off quickly.
    She sat on a rock a little away from the others, grateful for the moment of reprieve. Sitting for so long, practically in his lap, had been maddening. Every time she tried not to think about him, it seemed she couldn’t think of anything but him.
    Awareness had been her constant unwelcome companion. After the long journey, she was as tightly wound as a coiled spring, every nerve ending on edge and fraught with tension. It was only natural, she told herself. He’d abducted her. Touched her. Taken liberties with her person that no man had ever dared. What woman wouldn’t be nervous? But it was more than nervousness that had her keenly aware of his every movement, every command he’d issued to his men, even the distinctive masculine scent of him. A scent that made her yearn to curl up against his warm chest and fall asleep.
    How humiliating that she’d actually done so. He was her abductor, for heaven’s sake.
    But exhaustion and the gentle sway of the horse had cut through her resolve to stay as far away as possible from him, as easily as a knife slid through butter. The uncharacteristic weakness annoyed her.
    What did he want with her? And more important, how was she going to escape?
    There was a ruthless edge to the man that gave her