“You are afraid of me, Ranald Kincairn!” Enya said.
“I, afraid of a Lowland traitoress, who in the bargain, I might remind you, is my captive and in chains? You jest, mistress!”
“Then kiss me.”
“Nae.” Ranald stood, gazing down at her, his dark eyes musing. “Should I teach ye the rudiments of lovemaking, do ye still think ye can make me love ye?”
“I will yet do it.” She stood on tiptoe and kissed his hard mouth.
When he did not respond, Enya moved back a step and stared at him with an unnamed fear. “’Tis your blood that runs cold.”
“Then heat it. Tonight. I tire of empty promises.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The mighty Kincairns, once a powerful Highland clan, were now rebels out to destroy the conquering British invaders. Ranald Kincairn, new chieftain of the rebels vowed to revenge the murder of his brothers and his sister’s ruination. And in the depth of night, he stole the virgin bride of his cunning and ruthless foe with the intent to breed her with Scots bairns and then destroy her soul.
But he had not counted on the firebrand that was his enemy’s bride, Enya of the Afton House. Before the laird could bring low the prisoner of his hatred, Enya vowed she would have him bowing down as her captive. Her captive of love.
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