To Conquer a Scot - Tamara Gill Page 0,68

her at the door, pushed her up against the wood and undulated against her bottom, the strength of him hurting her, her hipbones grinding against the wood sent pain ricocheting up her abdomen. She cried out as the air in her lungs was squeezed out.

His hand slid about her throat, and she stilled. “Do not run again, lass. I don’t take nicely to be treated with so little respect.”

“Screw you.”

He laughed, squeezing her neck until blackness flickered before her eyes. “Later yes, but right now, I need ye to shut up so I apologize for what I’m about to do. It pains me more than it’ll pain you, I assure ye.”

“Bullshit.” Abby tried to push him off before something hard slammed into her skull. That it did hurt was the last thought she had before blackness consumed her.

The cold wind pierced her face, her head feeling like it would split in two from the pounding headache. Slumped over a horse, her hands fastened behind her back and her ankles tied, left her feeling unbalanced and vulnerable. Her skin burned where they were latched together, and with every clop of the horses’ hooves, the bones on her ankles rubbed.

Dawn was breaking in the morning sky as they galloped to a destination she’d never seen before. Mountains rose on either side of them, and it looked like a dry riverbed, if the amount of stones the horse tripped over was any indication. On either side of the bank, heather rose up across the lower hills, its purple flowers the only ornament on an otherwise barren landscape.

The man holding her on the horse shouted out orders in quick succession, his voice loud enough to send pain spiking through her skull. She cringed.

“Awake are ye?” He patted her bottom, his hand squeezing painfully against her flesh. “’Tis about time. There is nothing more boring than having a woman when she isn’t conscious.”

“You’re a vile pig.” Abby tried to wiggle off the horse, death by a brain injury would be better than having to stay one more moment with this vile being.

His hand held her fast, and he made an awful noise of displeasure. “Try that again and I’ll slit ye throat and bleed ye over me horse’s neck.”

Abby remained silent as something told her he’d do exactly that, should she push him too far. Aedan would come for her, of that she was sure. She needed to keep this man’s hands and sword off her until he did.

Easier said than done.

“Where are we going?”

He laughed, the sound tinged with mockery. “That’s the brilliance of my plan. I’ve sent half my men with a woman from Clan MacLeod headed toward the eastern borders. Last reports have your stupid laird following them instead of us. We’re headed for O’Cain land, where me and my men will all have a turn of ye, before I kill ye stone dead.”

“I’m not the woman you seek. I have never met you before our introductions at Castle Druiminn. I don’t know why you won’t believe me.” Her voice rose in panic. The thought of being passed around, a play toy to these men made her stomach lurch. She’d never survive it. And what did it matter if she did, they were going to kill her, anyway. “If you have any moral fiber in your body you’ll let me go.”

“You are who I seek, no matter what you say. You’ve proven yourself a lying wench, and I’ll have my revenge.”

They stopped, and he clasped the back of her gown, wrenching her backward and throwing her off the horse. She landed with a thump, sprawled on her ass.. The muscles in her back screamed in pain as she tensed to stop her head from hitting the ground.

“Maybe I’ll have ye now.” He jumped from the horse and came around to stand over her, nudging one of her legs with his boot.

“Look at me,” she screamed. “I mean, really look at me. I’m not this Coira you seek. Surely in the months she lived with you, you noticed some sort of mark, a scar even, that will prove my innocence.”

He seemed to think on this a moment, before disdain covered his features. “Ye are who I say ye are.”

“How fortunate.” Abby looked around the location, searching for anyone to come and get her out of the dire situation. She noted a rough stone cottage farther down the hill, a thatch roof and no door, just a space to enter the building. The windows

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