The Highlander's Temptation Read Online Free PDF Page B

brothers. They hated her leaving the castle walls without an escort. In fact, it had been one of Magnus’ rules since he became laird some fifteen years before today.
    With that realization came the awareness of Beltane soon to be upon them. The anniversary of their parents’ death. Perhaps this being the fifteenth year, those invisible enemies would once more crash their swords down upon them. And their swords would come clashing on her first if she didn’t get moving. Lorna reached her horse’s side, gripped the saddle and leapt onto Angel’s back. The skirts caught around her left leg, making it impossible for her to get her foot into the stirrup.
    “Damn it,” she cursed, beginning to panic.
    She caught a glimpse of the approaching riders and all sense seemed to leave her. She stilled, seemingly frozen as the distance between them closed.
    Two warriors flanked a single man. Or demon.
    The man appeared to be just as tall and dark as his warhorse. His black hair whipped around his head as did the horse’s mane. The lead rider flew up one crest and down another, like a devil racing for time. He was massive, broad of shoulder and just from looking at him, she felt all the air around her vibrate, like it was being sucked in by him, leaving her little left.
    The hilt of a claymore rose above one shoulder. Metal glinted from his arms, as though they, too, were strapped with swords.
    Lorna swallowed. All three of them were fierce. But the one in the center… He was a thing of girlish nightmares, and yet she felt enticed. Excited. She couldn’t goad her horse into a run. Couldn’t even seem to get the mare to turn around—which wasn’t surprising, given that she wasn’t making her. Nay, Lorna sat like a duck in the line of an arrow, waiting to see just where this man and his followers would strike her.
    And right now he seemed to have struck her all over.
    Gooseflesh rose on her skin, the hair on the back of her neck prickled and she could barely catch her breath. He was magnificent, dangerous and… handsome. A handsome devil.
    Somewhere behind her, the guards called, shouting over the din of hoof beats. And still she didn’t move.
    When the strangers were within a few dozen yards, the fire burning in their leader’s dark eyes seemed to finally spear her into movement. He was close. Too close. What in all of heaven was she thinking just waiting and staring? She didn’t recognize the color of their plaids. For all she knew, they were the enemy that had struck them in the soul fifteen years earlier.
    “Zounds!” she breathed out, yanking Angel’s reins and spu rring her into a gallop with her right foot, her left foot still out of the stirrup.
    The already skittish mare needed no further prompting. She whirled and, head down, made for home at a speed Lorna had yet to see her excel toward.
    Lorna leaned low over the horse’s neck, too fearful of falling off her mount at such a speed to grab hold of the long dagger she kept tucked beneath the saddle. Besides, it was entirely possible that she might end up stabbing herself with it.
    The guards had begun to lift the portcullis, the gate opened wide now. Within moments they would be barreling toward her and her attackers, swords drawn. Oh, dear God! She was going to die…
    If she thought Magnus would throw a conniption over her being out on the hill without an escort, then he’d be doubly mad if she came back covered in blood.
    Tightening her grip on the reins, she called out to Angel, “Faster, girl! Fly!”
    Pounding thunder chased her. And she might have thought that dark clouds were distending with long human -like fingers reaching toward her, ready to snatch her up into oblivion, save for the fact, she’d seen just who chased her.
    A warrior. A god. And she couldn’t quite figure out if she wanted to run toward him or dash away to the castle in hopes he and his men would simply disappear.
    Somehow, even in the back of her mind, Lorna knew that the sight of