Annalía was sick and tired of men running roughshod over her. What about her wants? She hated having no control. She confined her hair more tightly than usual, then adjusted her choker, tightening it, still furious—

Something scraped outside near her window. The music trilled on, punctuated by shots, but she thought she heard a noise coming from just below the sash. Maybe the breeze had stirred a lantern.

A huge boot slipped in through the window, followed by a man unfolding to his full height. She scrambled to her feet. "I know you! You were with MacCarrick." He was the oldest one. "Tell me why you're here or I'll scream!"

Another followed him into the room. Oh, not the whelp!

"We're here to take you to safety, lass," the first said as he advanced on her. "And you ken they canna hear you scream."

"To hell with you both!" Mercenaries! Bloody, cursed mercenaries. Taking her to safety, her foot! When the young one captured her wrist she screeched, "Why can't you all just leave me alone?" then lashed out, her nails and teeth bared.

"Ach, Gavin!" he exclaimed, releasing her. "She bit me. I say we tie the little witch!"

"No, no, son, let me handle—Bloody hell! She got me, too! And he forced this task on us to avoid the fighting?" Gavin muttered angrily as he reached for her again. "Lass, we will no' hurt you, you ken? We're saving you."

"If I leave here, you're condemning my brother!" She kicked at his legs, but her skirts got in the way. "So I'm not leaving!" When he seized her wrists she struck wildly, yet it was only a matter of time. To her fury, he bound her hands.

"Listen—MacCarrick is checking the jail for him right now. If he's there you'll both be freed and we'll take you to a safe place."

Her stomach roiled. "But he's not in the jail!"

Gavin frowned at that. "Truly?" he asked as he forced a gag on her. "Well, we'll, uh, we'll let Court figure this one out."

She shouted against the gag and swung her bound hands at him, but he deflected the blow.

"Liam!"—he jerked his chin at her traveling bags—"Grab those and stow some clothes."

Liam set to work punching ball gowns and lace and stockings without a care.

She shook her head forcefully and spoke against the cloth. Idiot! Pascal would kill him!

"Ach, wee one, we will no' treat you poorly. Everything will work out as it should," Gavin assured her, as he tossed her over his shoulder.

She dug her nails into his back with every ounce of frustration she felt. When he tensed but continued on, she screamed in fury yet only heard a pitiful, muffled sound.

Chapter Ten

Stealing Annalía was proving disappointingly easy. A bribe for information, a bout of sequestered fighting with Spanish deserters drunk from the festival, and a twenty-minute decoy were all that had separated Court's men from her.

From a distance, Court spotted Liam giving him a salute. Farther ahead rode Gavin with Annalía. Court frowned to see her kicking within his arms before Gavin spurred his horse to ride for the lodge.

Court had decided not to take the time to meet the rest of his crew, and since he thought she'd go eagerly once they'd told her their plan, he'd sent his oldest and youngest to retrieve her.

At the same time, Court, Fergus, Niall, and MacTiernay had fought deserters and checked the jail, opening every cell just for the hell of it, but Llorente wasn't there. Annalía might be unwilling now, but once she recovered from the news of her brother, she'd be glad they'd saved her.

He raised his rifle, resting the warm barrel against his shoulder, then signaled the others to ride out in the opposite direction. They took a false route away from town, then doubled back toward the northeast corner of Andorra, heading for the lodge. From there they followed a hidden smuggler's route, speeding through the winding ravines that continued ever upward in elevation.

When the trail tapered and the terrain made them slow their pace, Niall rode up alongside him. "I've been thinking."

"What about?" he mumbled.

"About the way you've been treating the bonny Andorran. And about why you slept in her room last night."

Court turned back to see if the others could hear. Fergus was nodding off and MacTiernay was too far back. "More comfortable bed, Niall. Now drop it."

"We've established that your behavior is off."

"No—"

"What we need to know is why," Niall interrupted.

"I'll be damned before I let you study me. It's my business."

"I'm your cousin. MacCarrick is my clan, too. What you do does concern me."

"How could this—"

"The curse."

"Bloody hell, doona start on that." They closed in on the lodge, the lodge where they would drop this conversation. From their vantage, he could already see it down the mountain. His brows drew together. Why the hell was the place bright with light this late?

"You canna ignore it any longer." Lowering his voice, Niall said, "You reacted as you never have before." His horse, sensing a barn and rest, tried for a trot, but Niall reined him in. "I'd thought that part of you was simply dead, and was glad of it, but it's no'."

Court hiked his shoulders. "This will be done soon. I'll get her to safety, and then it's finished." They'd planned to free her and her brother and get them to the lodge, but if Llorente was dead, Court had promised Niall he'd see the girl to a safe house near Toulouse.

"You will leave her behind in France?" he asked as they rode into the rickety stable.

"Yes," Court said firmly, but damn it all, he'd hesitated a slight second and Niall knew it. Something was off with him, his reaction to her unique. He was as confounded about it as Niall was.

"Damn it, Court, if you hurt her, you'll never be right. Look at Ethan—that's as wrong as a man can get."

Court's eldest brother, Ethan, was a fearsome man in both looks and deed, and his fiancée's mysterious death had only fueled the rumors surrounding—

Shrieks interrupted his thoughts. From inside sounded Annalía's screams, punctuated by loud crashes and all the men cheering.

They heard it just as they were dismounting. He and Niall shared a look, then ran into the house. They found Liam standing outside a room, egged on by thirty raucous Highlanders, as he raised his arms over his head and advanced under a barrage of vases, candleholders, shoes, and boxes. An outraged screech sounded with each hurled object.

Court elbowed through the men, who now cheered him and slapped his back to see him alive, until he reached Liam. Court tapped him on the shoulder and cocked his eyebrows, and Liam happily backed away. The men grew quiet.

Court almost felt sorry for her as he assumed his most threatening expression and readied to enter. He put himself in the line of fire, barely dodging a crystal vase filled with packing straw, but he never slowed his ominous stride toward her.

He caught her eyes, saw her in a clinging fire-red dress, with her hair curling and free and her breasts nearly spilling out, and his jaw dropped. In a thunderstruck tone, he said, "Anna?" just as she brained him with a candleholder.

Aleix woke late in the night to the sound of many footsteps descending the stairs. He rubbed his eyes, frowning into the darkness.

The guards never came this late. Comprehension stabbed at him, and he knew why they would this night.

He was about to be executed.

"Papa." Olivia's voice? She sounded as though she were on the stairs as well. "Perhaps you shouldn't act hastily with Llorente."

"What do you mean?" Pascal asked.

"I believe this is a very delicate time. The prisoner is beloved by these people." Her voice was laced with disgust. "His execution could be the catalyst they need to rebel again."

Aleix shook himself. She was right. It would enrage them.

"And this could be the last straw for Spain." The footsteps halted outside his room. "You know they are on the verge of retrieving their deserters. If they decide to become involved…"

Damn it, Aleix thought, that's what I've wanted for months.

"What do you suggest?"

"We must not act rashly. I know it was infuriating that she was taken, but instead of killing her, I suggest you retrieve her and carry out your plan to marry, solidifying your claim. Afterward you can dispose of Llorente, supplanting him in the people's affections."

Retrieve? Taken? Perhaps they had some ally who'd prevented the nuptials. His heart leapt at the thought. The first hope he'd felt in days.

"But she's tainted," Pascal said. Tainted?

Olivia asked, "Do you think the Highlanders will use her?" Those animals took Annalía?

"It doesn't matter if they do or don't—she'll be ruined in everyone's eyes. Our guests will see to that."

Aleix struggled not to yell, struggled not to ram his head against the walls in rage. Why would the Highlanders do that when they worked for Pascal? When they'd defeated Aleix and his men not two weeks ago for the bastard.

"The benefits of marrying her will still outweigh the detriments. Think of Spain, Papa. And if she does carry a child, she can have an…accident and you can marry again."

A pause. Alex could picture the general's thoughtful expression. Finally, he said, "I suspect it's too late, but I will try."

"I think that's a wise decision."

"You always were my most cunning child, Olivia. Cold, just like me."

"Yes, Papa. Just like you."

That bitch.

Annalía could see MacCarrick's expression turn menacing, his body tensing as he rubbed his temple. She snatched a pitcher from the straw-lined crate and readied it to throw.