Captured Heart by Heather McCollum Read Free Book Online Page B

blaze, screaming in the flame. She turned to him. “I do not want to burn, Caden.”
    “Holy God, why would anyone want to burn ye, lass?” Ewan asked.
    “He thinks ye are a witch, too, because ye…help people,” Caden answered.
    “He doesn’t know me.” Meg focused on the fire. “He hasn’t seen me since he took my mother away.” She picked up a stick and pushed it into the dirt. “He might accuse me once he has me.”
    “Are ye a witch?” Ewan’s whisper held a bit of awe.
    “There is nothing but good in what I do. I have no dealings with Lucifer,” she snapped.
    “I…I didn’t mean to—” Ewan stuttered.
    “I need to get away from him.”
    “He cannot just take ye without yer guardian’s permission,” Ewan said. “Unless ye think he would steal ye away in the middle of the night.” He gave an odd little laugh.
    Meg squinted at him from her peripheral view.
    “He could take ye if he was yer legal guardian,” Caden said, his voice even.
    The statement hung amongst them while Meg’s stomach knotted. She wrapped her arms around her middle and leaned toward the warmth of the fire.
    “Is he yer—” Ewan began.
    “I think the hare is roasted through, Ewan.” Caden cut him off. “Let’s get our guest fed and to bed. We leave with the dawn.”
    Meg would have retorted that she wasn’t a child, but Caden’s words stopped any further interrogation. And she was tired. Down to the bone tired. She needed to keep her wits about her and exhaustion would only work against her. Tomorrow she’d enter into the heart of Scotland, the land of rugged mountains, raw beauty, and deadly secrets.
    …
    The moon was high when Caden laid his head down on the mossy ground outside Meg’s tent. Perhaps her pet prowled nearby, perhaps not. Donald and four others were on the first watch and Caden had sent Ewan to sleep far away from the lass, far away from her pleasant expressions that had returned quickly after her anger cooled.
    Caden watched the clouds blow across the sky, past the moon on their way north over the moors, over his home. Meg turned inside the tent, her body pushed outward against the confines of the draped blanket. He was only a few feet away. One roll and he’d be up against that warm outline.
    “Bloody foolish,” he whispered and closed his eyes against the sight of her backside molded by the blanket. He would keep his distance. The lass could lure any man with those long lashes and hazel eyes, the lushness of her mouth, the silky hair that lay around her soft curves. Half his men watched her like eager pups. If she weren’t so beautiful he’d swear she was spelling them. Her strong, gentle spirit was bewitching enough. She had no need for magic.
    Though Meg Boswell was not to be touched. She was a pawn to be used for a higher purpose, not a simple wench with which to dally. If she came to harm while in his protection, a peace might never be settled. And peace was more important than anything else.
    Caden drifted in and out of sleep, as was his usual slumber on journeys. He was never parted from his sword and never completely unaware of those around him.
    He first heard Meg’s voice vibrate along the razor’s edge of a dream.
    “No, leave her alone. Let go…” she mumbled.
    Caden’s eyes snapped open, his fist tightened around the hilt of his sword. Darkness still shrouded the camp. His eyes sought out the guards walking the perimeter. Nothing seemed out of place.
    “Go,” Meg muttered. “Mama…don’t go. No, don’t take her away.”
    The lass was dreaming. Her words pressed hard into his chest, clenching, making it more difficult to breathe. Pressure born of guilt perhaps or a need to protect the weak, whatever it was, it wrapped around him, made him ache to confront the foe in Meg’s dreams, to slay her demon.
    “Caden,” she murmured on a breath.
    Caden sat upright. Had she just called for him, called for him to save her?
    “Help…” Her word tumbled into a whimper.
    He