Highland Destiny Read Online Free PDF

companions, not riding through the night with a dozen men as their escort. Sooner than she would have thought possible, her body sagged against Connor, and she fell asleep; her mind needing the protection of oblivion to sort through and accept all that had happened.
    [Back to Table of Contents]
    35
    Chapter Four
Connor MacRae exhaled roughly as the tiresome woman in his arms fell asleep. She was leaning against his chieftain pin, so he gently rolled her head to the other side. He wore his usual breacan feile over a linen shirt, with trews beneath the belted plaid. He had an iron penannular brooch, open to one side, to fasten the plaid at his shoulder. Connor knew that it was the annular brooches that were worn now, and his wasn't in fashion, but what did he care for fashion? It had been in his family for several hundred years; the clan chieftain had always worn it. His claidheamhmor was slung across his back, and he had his bow on his massive destrier , just in case.
    She shifted a little, and he could feel her rear pressing against him, her spine having relaxed from its rigid position to lean back into him. Her head fell right at his shoulder; she was not small, this one. Her head had lolled to settle against his throat. He could feel her even breathing against the skin of his neck. He'd never noticed anything as mundane as breathing about a woman before. Connor found himself noticing quite a bit about this spirited woman.
    Dougal, his captain, had ridden up beside him, and cocked an eyebrow at the sleeping woman. Connor nodded his head.
    The silent conversation was merely Dougal asking if she was going to come willingly; he clearly thought the lass was daft.
    Not that Connor could blame his first, she hadn't behaved like any woman he'd ever known. He'd never been stabbed by a 36
    lass, nor had to chase one down for that matter. Of course, he'd never abducted a woman before, either.
When he and his men had attacked her carriage, all had gone according to plan. No one had been harmed. Well , he amended, nothing that wouldn't heal . No one had been seriously harmed. It had been easy. But Connor still felt that twinge of unease. Had it been too easy? Something didn't ring true about the simplicity of the abduction. His senses had been honed by years on the battlefield, and they had never let him down, so it was unusual for him to feel uneasy about a victory.
    His attention was brought back to the girl in his arms as she shivered. Unthinkingly, he unraveled his plaid and wrapped it around the Stewart lass, for she must be cold with naught but a cloak on. She was practically naked underneath, he recalled. American, she'd said, and while Connor knew nothing of ladies' fashions, he was fairly certain that they wore gowns in America. She must have lost her gown, though he knew not how. He preferred a woman in a simple sark to the unusual and confining undergarments this woman wore.
    The thought of her in a sark had him thinking of how her body had felt when he'd landed on top of her. She was made of lush, soft curves, but he'd seen her legs wrapped around his horse, and he knew they were solid muscle. He'd also chased her, and he knew she was fast. He'd never been so surprised in his life as when the Stewart lass had stomped down on his foot and turned with her dagger.
    And those eyes.
    37
    He hadn't missed the split-second hesitation that she'd had when their eyes connected. He had been able to read every emotion in her eyes as if they were spelled out on her forehead. They had been wide, frightened, and they were emerald green. He'd never seen green eyes so deep. Connor felt that he could stare for hours into her eyes and he would never understand her secrets. Oh he knew for certain she had them, for in that short moment when their eyes had met, he had seen her secrets. And he wanted to know them.
Something else though, he had seen the flare of recognition in her eyes. Had they met?
    He looked down at her as her head lolled