Highland Obsession by Dawn Halliday Read Free Book Online Page B

the clearing sky and the full moon, he pressed the bay into a full run. The horse thundered toward the castle gate. He ignored the hoofbeats pounding close behind him. Ahead, another group of men had amassed at the entrance.
    But he wouldn’t give up. He’d rather die fighting than sit scratching his arse while his innocent wife suffered at the hands of an earl in the grip of madness.
    As he neared, the men at the castle gates drew their weapons. Alan counted another five guards on foot. Added to the four pursuing him, that made nine men, most of whom looked familiar, though he hadn’t visited Camdonn Castle often enough to know them by name.
    His horse sprinted at the gate, then shied as it encountered the obstacle of the men and metal blocking its way. Alan swayed in the saddle, struggling to stay mounted.
    “Halt!” One of the standing men raised his musket and aimed it at Alan.
    The four mounted men behind approached the gate in a flurry of hooves, reining in their horses as they neared.
    Regaining control of his mount, Alan straightened his spine and held his broadsword at the ready. “I’m here to fetch my wife. Permit me to enter.”
    “Blast it, MacDonald, can ye not see yer outnumbered?” shouted one of the mounted guards.
    “Give it up, man.” A grizzled guard stared up at Alan, his hand on his sword hilt, his silver brows furrowed. “Go on home, MacDonald. None of us wants trouble tonight.”
    “Nor do I. So let me by or I will be forced to fight my way through you.”
    A few of the men snorted derisively.
    He’d have to be on foot to pass through the gate. Alan dismounted carefully, keeping his senses attuned to any movement.
    “She’s my wife,” he repeated as his feet struck the muddy path. “What the hell kind of husband would I be if I were to allow another man to rape her?”
    “The wise kind,” one of the men muttered.
    “The living kind,” added another.
    Though they jested, they all remained wary and on alert. There was no way to compel them to let down their guard. Alan had to force the issue.
    He lunged for the gate, knocking down the musket of the man barring his way and kicking another in the leg.
    Alan turned to the man on his right, the man who’d told him to give it up. He drew his sword with a whoosh, his silver brows snapped so closely together they looked like a straight line over his eyes. Steel clashed, once, twice, then a searing pain sliced down Alan’s back, nearly causing his legs to buckle.
    He regained control of his legs and spun around. One of the mounted men had struck him. Two swords slammed against his one, and someone caught his wrist, wrenching the steel from his grasp. Blood streamed hot down his back. His arm was twisted behind him, forcing him to his knees. Words penetrated through the muddle of Alan’s mind. “Ye’ll not have her back if yer dead, MacDonald.”
    Now both his arms were yanked behind him. A man looped rough twine around his wrists. His flesh was on fire.
    “Alan.”
    Blinking away the film of pain and frustration blurring his vision, Alan looked up into the kindly face of Duncan MacDougall, Cam’s manservant and a secret Jacobite. The servant breathed heavily, and sweat beaded upon his brow even in the coldness of the night.
    “Duncan,” Alan gasped. “Sorcha . . .”
    “Aye, lad, I heard the ruckus out here. I’ve just come from the castle. She’s with his lordship.”
    Alan closed his eyes. He knew it was so, but to hear it confirmed felt as painful as a sword slicing him in two. He groaned. Stars swam in his vision. His head throbbed. His shoulder ached. His back burned.
    “Why?” he whispered.
    Duncan knelt before him and clutched his chin, forcing Alan to meet his wizened eyes. “Ye must keep yer strength, Alan. This is folly. They’ll kill ye, sure as not.”
    “No. I have to get to her.”
    Cam was no rapist, but his expression had been that of a desperate man, a man who’d do anything to get what he wanted. Images