Surrender to Me (The Derrings #4)(29)

“Let’s be off, then,” the brigand at her back called out, his voice smug, grating as he nudged his mount to the front of the line, removing Griffin from her sight. But not from her mind.

His face stayed with her as they rode away. Even with one eye blackened and swollen, the memory of his rancor gleamed clear as lightning in a dark night.

Her belly twisted, knowing he thought she had failed him. Betrayed his trust. Even though she knew she had done the right thing in stopping him from gambling his life for hers.

She inhaled cold, stinging air through her nose and reminded herself it would not be the first time she had failed someone with pure intentions. Her sister-in-law still refused to speak to her.

“Don’t be afraid. I’ll not rape you.” The brigand’s breath fluttered her hair as he spoke. “I’m not the sort to force a woman.”

“No?” Despite herself, his words allowed some of the tension to ebb from her.

“I’m a patient man. I can wait. You’ll grow fond of me.”

“I don’t think so.”

“You’ll soon forget him, little one.”

Astrid sniffed, deigning not to answer, and knowing that whatever happened, she would never forget Griffin—the first man to risk anything for her. Everything. The first man with whom she had dropped her guard. Even if only for a few mad moments.

He was not a man she could forget.

Hard hands tightened on her waist. “I’ll give you something else to concentrate on.”

“Unlikely,” she could not help biting out.

He laughed, sliding his hands around her waist, palms flattening over her belly. “You have fire. But it’s buried deep. I shall enjoy bringing it out of you.”

“Go to hell.”

He laughed again. “Oh, yes. You and I shall rub along very well.” His hands moved higher, his fingers tracing her ribs through her gown.

She closed her eyes, willing herself not to flinch, not to think about what—who—she left behind. Not to feel anything at all as his fingers inched higher and his voice rolled over her like a dark tide, blotting out all light, all hope.

Chapter 11
They didn’t travel far before they encountered a flock of sheep milling about in a grove, pathetic creatures that looked half starved and wore the same hungry look as the half dozen men standing guard over them, waiting for the return of the rest of their party.

The motley bunch showed no surprise at the sight of her ensconced on the saddle before their leader. They surveyed her with flat eyes and hard mouths that made her wonder if they frequently abducted women along with the livestock they reived.

Soon they were moving again, pushing a hard pace even with the flock herded before them. A harder pace than what Griffin had subjected her to. Squeezing her eyes shut, she told herself she would have an easier time if she learned not to think about Griffin anymore, to forget the look in his eyes when she had left. And most importantly, to forget all that nonsense of being bound to one another.

They climbed deeper into the mountains. The bite of wind and cold on her face honed to the sharpness of a knife’s edge with each passing moment. The air thickened, making it a struggle to draw its frigid density into her contracted lungs.

The brigand used her name freely when addressing her, as freely as the hand that held her about the waist, his fingers at times crawling over her torso or dropping to caress her thigh in a manner that set her teeth on edge.

And still she could not stop thinking of Griffin, worrying over his injuries, hoping he fared well alone.

That final look on his face replayed itself in her mind. She knew the look. Knew it as well as anyone could. In his mind, she had betrayed him. For whatever reason, he had appointed himself her defender, and she had failed to permit him to protect her. A sigh swelled up from her chest. She had done the practical thing. Perhaps he would come to see that later.

She forced her thoughts ahead, to her own fate. Once she reached their destination, she had to find a way out of this mess. She would appeal to the clan’s laird and pray he possessed the sense that Lachlan Gallagher lacked. Surely he would see it was one thing to steal sheep and another to abduct an innocent woman.

Astrid glanced around them. They moved up a particularly steep incline and she could not resist sneaking a peak over her shoulder. The sight only made her stomach squeeze.

“You’ll not see your man behind us.”

“I did not expect to,” she snapped, facing forward, sitting tall so that she did not lean back against him. Only too late did she even realize her reply signified acceptance of Griffin as her man.

“Even if he were not injured, these mountains aren’t for the faint of heart. Only a Highlander could maintain our pace. Don’t be looking for him to rescue you.”

“I’m not.”

“Good.” A moment of silence fell before he added, “Because if he were to come after you, I would have to kill him.”

She twisted around to study him, reading the truth in his gaunt features. “You think he will come,” she muttered, a touch of surprise in her voice.

His lips twisted and his dark eyes gleamed with a feral light, as if Griffin stood before him now, challenging him in some primordial contest to the death.

“Aye. I saw his face when you left him.”

So had she. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw him.