Mary Reed McCall by The Sweetest Sin Read Free Book Online Page A

her look down and cross her arms over her chest.
    It was apparent that, just like Father, the MacRae was a man used to being feared and obeyed. With him watching her there’d be no chance of disobedience. She turned her back on him. Then, secretly making a face that mimicked his glower, Aileana twisted her hair into a makeshift braid and crouched again near the fire. Let him stare all he wanted. Right now, she was hungry. Picking up the crusty bannock and hunk of hard cheese Kinnon had left her, she broke her fast with relish.
    All too soon, the call came to mount up and continue the ride to Eilean Donan. Aileana breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the MacRae ride out of the clearing with a group of his men. She would be allowed to walk with the others, away from him. Bending down to retrieve the trailing end of her plaid, she tucked it into her belt and draped it into acceptable pleats. It would be good to get back into her women’s clothing, she thought, as she started toward the men traveling on foot.
    When she passed the last, doused cook-fire, she sent up silent thanks that she wouldn’t be made to ride with Duncan again, to bear his impossible closeness or feel the warm pressure of his thighs on her hips. It had been a terrible burden, remaining impassive in that positionyesterday. Each jolting movement had made her more aware of him and his claim on her. His nearness had made her want to grit her teeth. It made her stomach clench. It made her want to scream—
    “Give me your hand.”
    Aileana jumped. She snapped her gaze up to see Duncan astride his steed, one gloved hand extended to her. His other gripped the reins, keeping the stallion’s powerful energy contained enough for her to approach.
    Even so, the breath seemed to leave her lungs, though she refused to appear weak in front of the MacRae. “Nay, I’d rather walk.” She eyed the stallion’s massive hooves as they gouged the sodden earth near her feet. His nostrils flared, and he snorted as Duncan reined him into tighter control.
    “Give me your hand and get up now.” He gave her a look that would wilt a daisy. “Unless you’re telling me that MacDonell wenches need footstools to get their dainty arses up into a saddle.”
    Heat rose to Aileana’s cheeks and with it a fear-numbing burst of animosity. Grabbing his outstretched arm, she leaped up, landing sideways on the stallion’s back. As she wriggled astride, she accidentally kicked Duncan’s shin.
    When he growled in irritation, she snapped, “So sorry, milord, but my dainty arse needed adjusting.”
    Aileana thought she heard a choking sound behind her, but when she hazarded a glimpse over her shoulder, she saw nothing but the tight, grim line of Duncan’s mouth. Perhaps he’d missed her comment, she reasoned. But then the low-pitched timbre of his voice filled her ear, quiet and cutting.
    “You will confine your prattling tongue and your wayward feet, or I’ll be forced to truss you up and carry you gagged and bound into the castle yard of Eilean Donan.”
    She remained silent, and so he did nothing—until she clenched her fingers in his steed’s mane so hard that she made the beast toss his head and let out a snorting whinny.
    “Damnation, woman, he’ll throw us if you don’t stop clinging like that. He’s a stallion, not a bed sheet!”
    Aileana stilled. She waited, tension building, before working up enough courage to twist around and look at Duncan’s face. He was scowling and his eyes were steely gray, but he didn’t seem in the midst of any preparations to tie or beat her. Relief spread in a blessed flow to the ends of her fingertips, and she turned forward again. Taking a deep breath, she thanked God for the reprieve she’d been granted. All of her life she’d struggled to curb her tongue and hide her emotions. Father had tried to punish it out of her, but it hadn’t worked. Now it was more important than ever that she concentrate on controlling herself.
    For Duncan