Her Enemy Highlander. Nicole Locke

but he could feel her limbs twitching as if she couldn’t restrain their restlessness. What had she been dreaming of?

      He needed to get her to the ground, to think and walk away his own worries. The jewel had complications; he was beginning to realise the Buchanan might prove even more complicated.

      ‘We need to dismount,’ he said gruffly.

      She nodded again, then continued to nod as if answering a question. He released the breath he had been holding. At least she was cooperating now. Caird slid off the horse and raised his arms to take her waist. He was thrown off balance or the swift kick to his chest would not have thrown him to the ground.

      It was over in a moment.

      Not looking behind her, Mairead tugged on the reins as the large horse surged towards the road and back to her family.

      She couldn’t stand Caird or the deception any more. Only dreaming of Ailbert, she didn’t care for the dagger, the money or the gem. She had a fortnight still to resolve the debt. She needed her family. Needed to see her brother laid to rest in the ground.

      Tears whipped from her eyes, her hands slipped on the reins, her legs barely held her to the horse’s heaving flanks.

      Free. Free. Free.

      Her feelings were echoed in the horse’s hooves, and the wild cadence lifted her.

      Then she heard it. Another sound, distant and in contrast to her own.

      She looked behind her. Caird was on the road and gaining ground.

      Too late. She’d never make it. Not like this. The horse he rode was rested, fed and bareback. She looked wildly around her. There were the trees, and she was smaller. Leaning further forward on the horse, she rode into the trees.

      Caird yelled, but she didn’t care; she had to get away. She needed the distance; needed to forget. Her tears flowed heavier until she couldn’t see. She fell against the horse, trusting it would feel her pain and take her away.

      Caird called out again, a song, a tune and the horse suddenly slowed.

      No! She pressed her body into its flanks and her hands gripped its sides. The horse reared. Hooves lashed the air as it threw its body towards a tree.

      * * *

      ‘Mairead!’ Caird couldn’t manoeuvre through the trees and he jumped to the ground.

      Angry and weaving too close to the trees, the horse she rode was wild. With her hands still clutching the reins, Mairead’s body flailed.

      Caird’s body jolted when she hit the first tree. Keeping little distance, and using a training tune, he tried to soothe the animal. But it was beyond wild with fear and threw itself towards the opposite tree. There was a moment of space to grab the reins. The momentum of his movement tossed Mairead into his arms, but not quickly enough.

      Just in time, Caird shielded her before the horse crushed him against a tree. He felt the agonising pain before the horse gained balance and sped away.

      Mairead’s weight was suddenly crippling, and Caird fell to his knees.

      Sides ripping, he laid her on the ground. Even as the pain eased by letting her go, he fought the urge to pull her back into his arms. She was awake, but silent. Her face was smeared with tears and blood; her breath wheezy. She no longer looked scared, or unsure. She looked angry.

      He didn’t care. He was furious.

      ‘You fool! You insanely impulsive female with nae care for—’

      ‘Doona give me your sanctimonious anger, Colquhoun.’ Gasping, she sat up. ‘What do you care if your horse crushed me?’

      ‘For you, Buchanan?’ His sides protesting, he sat back. ‘I care nothing for you. That was my horse you took.’

      She whipped her arm up, but he caught her hand before she could strike him. ‘I wish you’d just stayed on the ground where I kicked you.’

      Her hand felt cold and clammy. She was angry, but she was afraid, too. He almost hadn’t made it in time. Cared nothing for her? He feared he cared too much. ‘Lucky for you, I didn’t. You could have died galloping into this forest.’

      ‘I wouldn’t have been in the forest if you hadn’t chased me now, would I?’ she scoffed.

      Chased her? It had been pure desperation. Caird’s anger warred with his need to protect her. She could have died. The agony in his ribs kept him in place or else his need to hold her would have won. Still her hand warmed in his and he softened his hold.

      ‘Where do you think you were going?’

      ‘Home, you suffocating oaf, where else?’ She wrenched her hand out of his. ‘Is it a surprise? Did you think I would willingly go with you to celebration games? As if I could celebrate anything with your family, when it is my family—’

      She tried to stand, stumbled and grabbed a tree.

      He just stopped himself from helping her. Of course, her family. Her lying Buchanan clan.

      ‘Without the dagger?’ he mocked. He couldn’t care about her stumbling. He’d be damned if he touched her again.

      There were too many complications with his touching her. He must, for all their sakes, ignore any desire for her. Slowly he stood and began to attend to his horse that had returned.

      Caird turned his back on her. Again. Ignoring her, he carefully felt his horse for injuries. His steady strokes calmed the animal as he checked its flanks, haunches and legs.

      Guilt flickered through her belly. He did care for the horse and she had risked its life. A flick of a hoof on a branch, or hindquarter swung too hard and fast on rough bark, could maim it for life.

      Her fault, her carelessness. But she hadn’t been thinking. Another mistake.

      Looking down, she tried to bend her ankle and gasped as pain arced through her. Caird continued his care of his horse and she suppressed her guilt.

      Why did she care anyway? She shouldn’t be here. She’d take responsibility for the horse, but nothing else.

      ‘Why didn’t you just let me go?’ she demanded. ‘You doona need me. You had the dagger and gem.’

      ‘There’s not time for this discussion.’ He turned his head. ‘Your lies and deceit make you necessary until I have the truth.’

      ‘You ken the information you seek could easily be found with the thief! I’ve told you what you need to know.’

      He stopped, his face edged with an almost cruel smile. ‘What I need to know? That was never the prerequisite. It’s what I want to know.’ He grabbed the bridle. ‘It’s not as if I trust your word, Buchanan. We need to return to camp.’ He gestured to the barebacked horse. ‘That’s your horse now.’

      That horse was several feet away, where he had left it.

      ‘I can’t.’

      Caird cursed. ‘You push my patience too far. Obey me.’

      Obey him. If she could, she’d run away again.

      ‘This isn’t about you! I think my ankle is broken.’ She lifted the hem of her gown.

      Caird’s gaze fell on her ankle. ‘Bend it.’

      She braced herself against a tree, and everything in her body protested against her moving the ankle. It was already swelling, but she could move it.

      ‘It’s not broken.’ Caird turned to his horse.

      Could he not see the swelling? He had chased her, now he acted like he regretted catching her.

      She had to imagine his arms pulling her closer to him and the comfort of his hand holding hers. Caird’s ignoring her could not be plainer. To him, her ankle wasn’t broken; therefore, she wouldn’t receive help.

      She