Desiring the Highlander Read Online Free PDF

as the Scot eased his grip on the reins. His mount, tired of standing for so long, began to dance from side to side. “And you are a desperate one, baron,” came the bored reply.
    The Scot’s unspoken refusal to get off his monster horse and address Ainsley eye to eye was a blatant attempt at intimidation. And it was working. Despite herself, Ellenor smiled at the idea. Ainsley was just like her elder sister, a greedy soul, believing his status and wealth gave him power over others. What desperation haunts you so much, baron, that you would have your men chase after these giants and endure such humiliation? Ellenor asked herself.
    A minute later, she had her answer.
    “I understand you have something for me.” The Scot’s words were unconcerned, as if he were talking about some trivial item. Ellenor wondered just what it was Ainsley wanted to give him.
    “I see my message was received. I was beginning to have doubts. But in answer to your question, I have what you want,” her brother-in-law responded with a mixture of renewed confidence and relief. “But I want your word that you will take whatever I give you and never return.”
    Ellenor felt her body go cold.
    After her father died, Ainsley had pretended to be the dutiful brother-in-law and eagerly assumed the role as her guardian, believing it could gain him even more of what he already had by marrying her off to a wealthy nobleman. Soon afterward, Ainsley had realized his mistake and wanted Ellenor gone by any legitimate, legal means. That had been six months ago. And after months of searching, Ainsley had finally found someone willing to relieve him of his familial burden.
    Scorn entered the Scot’s stare. “Englishmen have no concept of honor so why would I give my word to one?” Ellenor held her breath. “Rest easy, baron, what you have will leave with me. That I have vowed to another. It belongs to you no more.”
    “That’s where you’re wrong, Scot. No one owns what I give you, and God help the poor soul who thinks he does,” Ainsley replied, finally sounding like a baron in control of the conversation.
    Ellenor exhaled slowly. All her prayers, all the months of planning and preparation, were now worthless. If that giant of a man intended to take her with him, he would succeed.
    She had only one remaining option. She had to make him change his mind.
     

    Cole felt the looming tentacles of a trap. He had suspected one the moment Laurel had managed to finagle his promise without disclosing exactly what he had been sent to retrieve. He had sensed it again when the baron had his men ride after him, beckoning his return. Never, however, did Cole dream the nature of the trap to be the kicking disaster being coerced toward him.
    It was a woman, or what looked like it had been a woman at one time. Her long chestnut-colored hair had been unwashed and unattended for days, if not weeks, and was a nightmarish concoction of tangles. The once deep emerald green gown she wore was covered in dirt smudges and frayed along the hems.
    The sound of a new rip along one arm echoed across the small courtyard as she fought her captors. The woman was struggling for her freedom with all her might. Even now, Cole could see blood dripping from her nails as she clawed the cheek of one of the men dragging her.
    As she neared, her eyes darted everywhere looking for any possibility of escape. The woman hated her captors, but clearly did not want new ones.
    Cole watched expressionless as the frustrated guards tugged her to his mount’s side. He gazed down as the woman shook loose the soldiers’ hold. Her defiant posture, her dress, the condition of her arms and hands…she appeared to be quite mad. Then, she looked up, and as if caught in some spell, her dark green and gold eyes held his blue ones.
    Her face was filthy, but it did not conceal the collection of well-defined features. A soft lower lip slightly fuller than the upper was stretched into a scowl that held both fear and