A Highlander Never Surrenders Read Online Free PDF

finally said, then yanked on her reins hard enough to make her stallion rise up on its hind legs. Robert had no choice but to move out of her way lest he be struck by the beast’s front hooves. “Farewell, Roundhead and rogue!” she called as she thundered away. “For your sakes, may our paths never meet again.”
    Graham and Robert watched her go, each at a bit of a loss after her swift rejection of their aid and her arrogant threat.
    “She doesn’t like us,” Robert offered in a somber tone.
    Graham turned to him. “She doesn’t like
ye
.” Then, with a mischievous glint in his eyes that Robert knew all too well from the pair of years he’d spent in Graham’s company, Graham dug his heels into his mount’s flanks and took off after her.

Chapter Four

    W ould that I were with you, to ride once again by your side, and to warn you . . .

    Claire muttered an oath against the wind cutting her teeth. She chanced a quick look over her shoulder while her horse raced across an open glen, its hooves tearing chunks of earth from the ground. The two men were still behind her. Damn them to Hades! She’d done everything to lose them in the past hour, pushing her poor steed to its limit. They had crashed through streams, bounded over farm walls, and thundered through two villages, but her would-be champions remained hot on her heels.
    She had to find a way to rid herself of them. If she needed men to help her with what she meant to do, she would have brought her closest ally and Connor’s dearest friend, James Buchanan, and a few of his guardsmen along. Hell, James was going to be furious with her for leaving Ravenglade without telling him. But there was no reason to get him killed, which was exactly what would happen if she arrived in Edinburgh with the new leader of the resistance. Besides, he never would have gone along with her plan, and she loved him too much to battle him on the issue. If all went well she would rescue Anne without even having to unsheathe her blade save to slice Monck’s throat. That is, if she could just shake the two pests behind her.
    She imagined they meant well. At least the Roundhead did. Aye, he was a Campbell, but there was something in those wide hazel eyes of his—a total lack of guile, a genuine sincerity she hadn’t seen in many men. Galahad, indeed.
    His lecherous friend was another matter entirely. She knew his kind well enough. She’d practically grown up in the company of men, who for many years had regarded her presence in her father’s practice fields as nothing more than a pleasant distraction, a
woman
whom they ached to tame, claim, and conquer. None ever did, and many still bore the scars of their attempts.
    The forest loomed before her. Patting her mount’s lathery coat, she dug her heels into the weary beast’s flanks and sped toward the trees. She must lose her followers within the labyrinth or be forced to stop her exhausted horse and speak to them again. If they discovered she was a member of the royal household and a promised bride to one of Monck’s men, they would try to take her into their custody and deliver her to the general’s feet.
    Determined on her quest, she plunged through the dense forest, her ears pricked to the panting snorts of horses behind her. Darting through a stand of oak, she fled south, toward her destination. She would not be stopped from saving Anne—and herself—from arranged marriages to their enemies. At least, that’s what she was telling herself when her steed slowed its pace, then finally stopped running.
    She tried to get the horse moving again, but it was no use. She had pushed him too hard. “Forgive me, Troy.” She slid from her saddle and bent her forehead to the horse’s neck. “But ’twas urgent, dear friend. I must . . .” Her apology was interrupted by the sound of her pursuers coming to a halt behind her. They were to blame for this. Grinding her teeth, she lifted her face and turned to them. “If my horse dies,”