Excerpt from Highland Honor.
"'Tis all right, lass. You
dinna need to tell me anything."
"No! It is not all
right. I won't go with ye. I won't go back."
"We've got her,
Hawke."
"Aye, I see that you
have." Laughter rang out from the shadows of the tavern. "Bring the
wee lass inside where we can talk."
"Nay, ye have no
right." Callie stiffened, searching the porch, every nerve strung taut.
"I am not chattel ye can push here and there."
Music, sounds of laughter,
the scent of ale and peat smoke floated and clung to the heavy night air. A man
moved forward, silhouetted by the backlight of the tavern.
"I have every
right," he said, but he made no move to change her situation or to tell
his henchman to unhand her.
Struck by his size and with
every nerve tightened, she inhaled a deep, ragged breath. When he stepped into
a pool of light, she nearly gasped aloud. Moonlight gave his strong,
well-chiseled features definition and there was a strange, vulnerable
expression on his face.
Oh, but he was tall and his
hair was as black as the night and the shadows surrounding him. His long, dark
hair was pulled back and secured at his nape with a leather strap, his muscles
rippling with every movement. At his side, he'd strapped a claymore, and a dirk
was tucked into the top of his knee-high stocking.
Behind her, Pansy moved
uneasily then trotted off into the darkness. "Pansy--"
"Dinna fret, lass.
Hawke will send a mon after your pony."
"Hawke," Callie
said his name aloud, returning her consideration to the man on the porch. She
sensed his attention bone-deep, and her heart thundered, every instinct within
calling out for her to flee. They thought she was someone she wasn't.
Sensations she'd never felt before swept through her.
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