fell back on his shoulder, and soon her breathing grew even. Had the wench fallen asleep? Her golden hair tickled his cheek. He brushed it away, his fingers entangling for a moment.
She shifted, and pressed her cheek against his chest.
His cock remained hard for the entire ride, the rocking of the horse not helping in the least. Her soft body molded against his, and his fingers, which held the reins, rested on her thighs, so close to the place where he yearned to bury his cock.
He clenched his teeth, the ache in his cock becoming almost unbearable. How tempted he was to ride toward the trees, to take her against the trunk of one of those mighty oaks. For a moment he imagined her eyes, half closed in passion, her soft sigh as he buried his rod into her heated core.
An image of his brother came to him unexpectedly, taking with it the desire he felt for the woman before him.
At least for the moment. Tristan’s death had devastated their clan and family. His brother could make everyone laugh with his quick wit and easy smile. And he could play the pipes like no other.
They rode for hours until they came to a glen, where his men made camp. They would sleep until dawn, and then continue their journey until they reached Castle Kildare.Certainly the nuns would alert MacLellan to Annabelle’s kidnapping. Brochan smiled, imagining the laird’s fury upon learning his daughter’s fate.
Angus would certainly come with an army.
And Brochan could not wait for that confrontation.
“Annabelle,” he whispered, shaking her a little harder than intended.
Her lashes fluttered and blue eyes locked with his. At first she frowned as though trying to place him. Then recognition came slowly, and her lips curved.
His stomach tightened. God’s breath, she seemed genuinely happy to see him.
Strange. Unless this was part of her plan. To make him believe she accepted her fate—only to escape once they arrived at his castle.
“I fell asleep,” she said, stifling a yawn. “I have to admit, that’s the most rest I’ve had since I arrived in this time.”
He frowned, confused. “This time?”
Her smile disappeared. “I meant since I arrived at the priory.”
“Ye did not sleep at the priory?”
“The cot was too uncomfortable…but you on the other hand, make a most comfortable mattress, Brochan.”
Did she jest? Her tone certainly made it sound like she was not at all serious.
He cleared his throat. “I am glad.”
Dismounting, he held his arms out to help her down. She placed a hand on either one of his shoulders. Small yet firm arms slipped around his neck, and her body slid against his, every soft curve rubbing against his front. He clenched his teeth, resisting the urge to crush her against him.
“Thank you,” she said, her hands moving from his shoulder to his chest.
Jesus! Did the woman have any idea what she was doing to him? He was finding it hard to remember who she was, and why she was here. Her father had killed his brother in cold blood. True, his brother had stolen the man’s chattel on a dare, but chattel was not worth his brother’s life.
His fingers curled about her wrists and brought her hands down to her sides.
“Come,” he said, stepping away from her, toward the camp where his men scurried about. The more distance he could put between himself and the woman, the better off they would both be. By tomorrow night they would be at Castle Kildare and he would keep her locked in the solar, far away from him and his men.
And then MacLellan would come to him.
His men had asked him what he planned to do with MacLellan’s daughter, and in truth, he had not known, but he was no murderer.
Nay, mayhap he would bury his seed within her and return her to her father.
His stomach grumbled loudly, reminding him he had not eaten since the day before.
“Are ye hungry?” he asked, and she shook her head.
“No, I am tired though.”
He nodded toward the tent that his men had set up. His was closest to the
She shifted, and pressed her cheek against his chest.
His cock remained hard for the entire ride, the rocking of the horse not helping in the least. Her soft body molded against his, and his fingers, which held the reins, rested on her thighs, so close to the place where he yearned to bury his cock.
He clenched his teeth, the ache in his cock becoming almost unbearable. How tempted he was to ride toward the trees, to take her against the trunk of one of those mighty oaks. For a moment he imagined her eyes, half closed in passion, her soft sigh as he buried his rod into her heated core.
An image of his brother came to him unexpectedly, taking with it the desire he felt for the woman before him.
At least for the moment. Tristan’s death had devastated their clan and family. His brother could make everyone laugh with his quick wit and easy smile. And he could play the pipes like no other.
They rode for hours until they came to a glen, where his men made camp. They would sleep until dawn, and then continue their journey until they reached Castle Kildare.Certainly the nuns would alert MacLellan to Annabelle’s kidnapping. Brochan smiled, imagining the laird’s fury upon learning his daughter’s fate.
Angus would certainly come with an army.
And Brochan could not wait for that confrontation.
“Annabelle,” he whispered, shaking her a little harder than intended.
Her lashes fluttered and blue eyes locked with his. At first she frowned as though trying to place him. Then recognition came slowly, and her lips curved.
His stomach tightened. God’s breath, she seemed genuinely happy to see him.
Strange. Unless this was part of her plan. To make him believe she accepted her fate—only to escape once they arrived at his castle.
“I fell asleep,” she said, stifling a yawn. “I have to admit, that’s the most rest I’ve had since I arrived in this time.”
He frowned, confused. “This time?”
Her smile disappeared. “I meant since I arrived at the priory.”
“Ye did not sleep at the priory?”
“The cot was too uncomfortable…but you on the other hand, make a most comfortable mattress, Brochan.”
Did she jest? Her tone certainly made it sound like she was not at all serious.
He cleared his throat. “I am glad.”
Dismounting, he held his arms out to help her down. She placed a hand on either one of his shoulders. Small yet firm arms slipped around his neck, and her body slid against his, every soft curve rubbing against his front. He clenched his teeth, resisting the urge to crush her against him.
“Thank you,” she said, her hands moving from his shoulder to his chest.
Jesus! Did the woman have any idea what she was doing to him? He was finding it hard to remember who she was, and why she was here. Her father had killed his brother in cold blood. True, his brother had stolen the man’s chattel on a dare, but chattel was not worth his brother’s life.
His fingers curled about her wrists and brought her hands down to her sides.
“Come,” he said, stepping away from her, toward the camp where his men scurried about. The more distance he could put between himself and the woman, the better off they would both be. By tomorrow night they would be at Castle Kildare and he would keep her locked in the solar, far away from him and his men.
And then MacLellan would come to him.
His men had asked him what he planned to do with MacLellan’s daughter, and in truth, he had not known, but he was no murderer.
Nay, mayhap he would bury his seed within her and return her to her father.
His stomach grumbled loudly, reminding him he had not eaten since the day before.
“Are ye hungry?” he asked, and she shook her head.
“No, I am tired though.”
He nodded toward the tent that his men had set up. His was closest to the
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