Read Online Amanda Scott by Abducted Heiress - Free Book Online

squirmed with delight beneath him. The thought stirred tension in his loins.
    Three huge gray deerhounds followed her closely, their heads held high, nostrils twitching eagerly as they sought to catch
     scent of her prey on the wind. Still staring at the alluring huntress, Fin found himself wondering next how much it all had
     cost. Becoming to her as it was, he hoped she did not expect him to clothe or mount her so finely at Eilean Donan—not unless
     he discovered that her fortune was as large as everyone claimed it was and it somehow came into his hands.
    He had expected her to be riding with the hunters but not actually to be hunting, herself. He wondered again what Mackinnon
     was thinking, to let her ride with a company of men in such a fashion. He would certainly protect her better than that. Had
     the man no common sense at all?
    It would not have shocked him to see her—with a proper lady companion or two, of course—hunting larks with a merlin whilst
     the men escorting them hunted with larger hawks or falcons. But the lass carried a longbow, and that, to his mind, was an
     absurdity. The longbow was a man’s weapon, not a woman’s, and meant for warriors, not willow-slender lasses, who could spend
     their time more wisely learning how to please a man. Surely, she could not even draw that bow properly. She was too small
     and lacked the necessary muscle. Nonetheless, she rode astride, she rode well, and she carried the bow as if she knew what
     to do with it.
    Even as the last thought danced through his mind, the hunters flushed a flock of gray-brown wood pigeons and she swiftly raised
     her bow, dropping her reins to her horse’s neck and letting an arrow fly in almost the same short span of time that it took
     him to notice what was happening. The arrow flew true, and the bird fell.
    Fin glanced at Patrick to see that gentleman’s mouth hanging open.
    Patrick looked at him. “You saw that?”
    “Aye,” Fin said. “She might not be as skilled as you are, but if I’m not mistaken, that shot was as fine as any other archer
     might make.”
    “I’ve never seen the like,” Patrick said. “She handles that bow as well as any man I’ve ever trained.”

    Molly saw Kintail watching her, but she carefully avoided looking at him, because she did not want him to detect her curiosity
     and mistake it for anything else. Better that he think she had more important matters on her mind. Nevertheless, she was delighted
     that he was watching when she shot the wood pigeon. Men thought them difficult prey for an archer, because of their fast,
     steep, erratic flight. When the arrow struck true, it was all she could do not to throw him a smile of triumph, and when he
     and Sir Patrick rode away, she told herself the disappointment she felt was merely because he could not see her repeat the
     shot.
    Back at Dunakin an hour later, she handed her bow and quiver to a gilly and nodded to another to help her dismount. Before
     the lad could do so, however, a muscular arm pushed him aside and Kintail stepped up beside her horse.
    “Pray, sir,” she said, raising her chin, “stand aside and let me dismount. I have much to do, and Lady Mackinnon is doubtless
     awaiting my return.”
    “I don’t doubt that you have much to do,” he said evenly. “What I do not understand is why you were careering about the countryside
     all morning instead of attending to your preparations for our departure.”
    “Because it is a magnificent day,” she said airily, avoiding his intense, disturbing gaze. “The storm washed everything fresh,
     and I wanted to hunt.”
    “Do you always do as you want, mistress?”
    “Always,” she replied.
    “You will find life at Eilean Donan rather different, I’m afraid,” he said as he clasped her firmly around the waist and lifted
     her from the saddle.
    To her surprise, he did not set her down at once but held her with her feet dangling. The position was undignified, and she
     felt her temper