Highland Hellion (Highland Weddings #3)(6)

Katherine was just sitting up when the order came. Compliance was immediate. Silence fell around her as she felt the weight of a stare.

It was a foolish thing to think, but as the man stepped closer and lowered himself onto his haunches in front of her, she would have sworn she actually felt his gaze on her. The clouds shifted, casting him in yellow moonlight, and she stiffened. The reaction rose from deep inside her, shocking her as much as the sight of the man considering her.

He was huge.

As hulking large as Marcus, but he struck her so much differently. Her belly tightened, and she felt her eyes widen before she tucked her chin, as she’d learned to do to keep her gender hidden.

The man reached right out and cupped her chin to raise it again.

She gasped and recoiled.

The contact of their skin was jarring. She kicked away from him, but her gaze remained locked with his.

“It’s just a little MacPherson laddie,” one of the men spoke up. “Should be worth a few pieces of silver.”

“Got his horse too,” someone else said. “I’m thinking it’s worth more than the whelp.”

There was another round of chuckling.

The clouds shifted again, giving her even more light, and this time she saw the feather standing up on the side of the leader’s bonnet. There was a twinkle from the brooch holding it that could only come from gold.

“Ye’re blind, Cedric,” the man in front of her said.

His voice was deep and controlled. A shiver went down her spine as she recognized how completely in his power she was.

“How so?” Cedric asked. He gave the end of the rope a shake. “I caught him sure enough.”

The man in front of her looked toward his man. “This is a lass.”

He rose, proving just how powerful his body was. The motion was fluid and graceful, like a hawk when it swooped down on its prey.

“Ye should have noticed how that rope is binding her arms and pushing her breasts up against whatever she bound them with.”

Katherine felt her cheeks heat. It had been a long time since she’d blushed, and she didn’t welcome the return of such reactions. But her distemper didn’t change the truth. Her breasts were being pushed up, making a little pair of mounds in the front of the jerkin that wouldn’t be there if she were male.

Curse her gender.

“I am Rolfe McTavish.” He leaned over and hooked her by the coils of rope, lifting her up with one hard pull. “And ye are foolish in the extreme, mistress.”

He pulled the rope off her, tossing it toward his man, Cedric, who caught it but glared at his laird’s son. “So what if it’s a lass? Still worth a ransom, I bet. Likely running away from a match. That means she has a dowry worth fighting over. Who knows? I might just wed her meself.”

Katherine took a step back, and then another when she realized they were letting her get closer to the horse. It occurred to her that they didn’t think she was very accomplished at mounting. After all, most women would use a mounting block. It had taken her months to build up enough strength to do it, and still more months of strained muscles after that.

Tonight, every bit of pain seemed insignificant compared to the knowledge that she could fend for herself.

“I’m looking for good sport, Cedric,” Rolfe admonished his man.

“Can’t see much of her in those clothes, but she might be sporting enough.”

Rolfe stepped partially in front of his man. There was an odd tension in the air that made her belly want to heave, but she didn’t have time to be distracted by her emotions. She drew in a deep breath and let Marcus’s voice fill her head. The one he used when instructing.

Fighting is no’ just about who is strongest, but about who has better control…

Rolfe’s men were chuckling, while the laird’s son had his back to her. She took advantage of the moment, turning and jumping off a rock before gripping the sides of the saddle.

The first fifty times she’d tried it, she’d blackened her eye or hit her nose so hard she was sure it was broken.

Persistence had paid off though, and she’d learned to swing up and onto the horse like the other lads in her training class. Now she did so again, gaining the saddle as she clamped her thighs tight and pulled the horse’s head around before digging her heels into its sides. The animal reared up, screaming as it came down with a bone-jarring impact. She felt it tense as it used its powerful hindquarters to push off the ground and start bounding up the hill.

*

“Never seen a female do that before.”

Neither had Rolfe. She was in the saddle as securely as any of his men.

“It’s not natural.”

“Nay, it is no’.”

“I’d say it’s impressive,” Rolfe interjected. “And it comes from training.”

His men weren’t sure what to make of his comment. They considered him, two of them stroking their beards while Rolfe watched her reach the crest of the embankment and go over it. She kept motion with the horse expertly, her body moving with lithe, fluid grace that spoke of strength and training. It raised his cock and his opinion of her.

Cedric was staring at him. Rolfe shrugged. “No one learns to swing up into the saddle without working at it.”

His men agreed, even if a fair number of them were uncomfortable with the topic. Rolfe found his mind lingering on her long after the sound of her horse diminished into the distance.