from him, looking down as she went.
“Lass,” Hugh called, but she didn’t respond. He growled to himself, and shot forward, his hand swallowing her upper arm.
She stilled, but he didn’t miss the glare when she glanced up at him. “Let me go.”
He pulled the small piece of parchment from his trews. “Is this wha’ ye seek?”
The lass made a go for the scroll, but Hugh raised it above her reach.
“Give it to me,” she ordered, anger darting across that pretty face.
Hugh chuckled when she jumped, but failed to reach. “Just wha’ do we have here?”
“None of your business.”
He ignored his foundling and unrolled the parchment. The lass’s arms shot around his waist in the effort to tug him back to her, but Hugh grabbed her wrist and she whimpered. He held the scroll high, but where he could read it, and scanned the thing.
Her breasts against his back were a distraction, but he tried to ignore the soft press and focused on the neatly written words before him.
Hugh scowled at the first mention of MacLeod. But then ‘ marrying you ,’ caught his attention. He’d heard that fool Duncan had found himself a wife, but it had been over two years ago now…actually, almost three. He read on, seeing some nonsense about the Fae, magic, and…traveling through time? “Claire,” he whispered.
She froze in his grip.
He hauled his foundling around to the front of his body, pinning her to his chest. Hugh liked the feel of her in his arms.
Uncertainty flashed in those green eyes when their gazes met, and she struggled.
Hugh tightened his grip, but tried not to hurt her. “Are ye Claire?”
Hugh arched an eyebrow. “Then have I found myself a thief?”
The lass frowned. “No.”
He studied her face, resisting the urge to take her mouth again. Hugh saw no dishonesty in her steady gaze. The hesitation he’d read just moments before was now determination. Her green eyes glinted. A dare.
This lass is strong.
Hugh smiled slowly.
She glared up at him, her tempting lips set in a hard line. “Let me go.”
The lass’s eyes threatened to slay him on the spot. She bent her knee and made a jab for his tender parts. Twisting his hips was the only thing that saved him. His move adjusted her aim, but her shot ended up in his thigh, pain lanced down his leg.
Hugh barely maintained his hold. “Why’d ye do tha’?” he growled.
“I warned you.” Her words dripped her ire, and she tugged against his hold. “What are you, some kind of barbarian? Let me go!”
He held on. There was no way he was going to release her now. The shifting of his grip hiked his tunic up, baring the creamy skin of her upper thigh.
Hugh tried not to stare there, or worse, rip the scrap of linen off her and show her what barbarian meant. “Well, lass, I doona’ know who ye are, but yer likely important to Duncan MacLeod, so yer comin’ with me.”
“What?” she screeched when he swung her up over his shoulder.
Hugh smacked her delectable rear end; couldn’t help himself. He chuckled when she yelped and pinned her legs to his chest when she started kicking him.
“Put me down!” Her fists pounded his bare back.
He laughed and whistled for Dubh.
Jules struggled to no avail. The man’s hands were like iron on her waist, and she was laid across the back of a huge black horse, so if she fought him harder, she would probably fall off and hit her head. “Let me go!” she commanded for the billionth time.
Air hit her bare ass, and she couldn’t even reach to yank the shirt down over it. He had her face-down, arms pinned, and damn horseflesh cut into her stomach, stealing her breath. Blood rushed to her head, making her pulse pound in her temples. She wiggled, but he held her tighter. “Seriously! Let. Me. Go.”
He chuckled and held on with only one of his hands.
God, he’s strong.
The guy was huge, too. She was tall for a girl, at five-ten, but this dude had towered over