Highland Warrior by McCollum, Heather (good summer reads .txt) 📕

dragging the man up as he tried to stop the blood pouring from his nose. “The first punch was for my mother, who was a saint,” Joshua said, lifting Torben and throwing him out through the door flap to land in the main room. “The second was for Kára, whom ye hunt even though she has refused ye. Find your dignity and move on.”

Calder followed Torben out into the main room, helping him up to move toward the door. Joshua turned back to the onlookers. His gaze found Kára where she stood by Osk, hands still on her cheeks. He narrowed his eyes. “Why exactly am I here?”

Did the people in the small room know what was in the lass’s mind? “Kára?” he asked. His hands fisted, his muscles contracting as if he knew deep down that the beautiful woman, who had taken him to bed and likely spoiled all other women for him for the rest of his life, had her own mission. And he was part of it. “I become quite dangerous when I feel I have been tricked,” he said.

Kára lowered her hands and met Joshua’s gaze, her eyes dark in the dim light of several sconces. Even though it was a small space, the distance in her eyes and stance made her feel much farther away.

He stopped himself from stepping closer, using his control and natural stubbornness to root him to the stone under his boots. “Have I been tricked?” he asked, a fierce warning in the tone of his words.

“No one is holding you here,” she answered. “So do not get yourself in a lather.” Her hands moved around her as she spoke, but she would not meet his gaze. The old woman and Brenna held onto each other’s arms on the bed, and Osk stood like a sentry next to his sister.

“Kára,” Joshua said and waited until her eyes settled back on him. “Why did ye ask me to come to Hillside?”

Her hands clenched where they lay against her thighs. “Joshua Sinclair…” Her chin tipped higher, and she stared him directly in his eyes as she inhaled fully. “My people need you. That is why you are here.”

His chest clenched. What had last night and this morning been about? Their constant tupping? Laughing together? Clinging together? Learning each other’s taste and smell and exploring every inch of each other’s bodies?

Kára walked closer and took another large inhale. “Joshua, Horseman of War, I need you to lead my people in war against a tyrant.”

Betrayal snaked its way through him, changing the hurt, at finding out Kára’s actions had been about using him, into anger. Growing up, hurt always flipped immediately to anger within him. Even as an adult, the change happened in the space of a heartbeat.

He took a step forward, too, meeting her in the middle of the room to look down into her beautiful face that was tight with conviction. He did not touch her. “Kára Flett, Dróttning, chief of your people.” His eyes narrowed, his face reflecting the twisting of pain that his anger could not suppress. “No.”

…

Kára stood staring up into the face of fury, a death mask that changed slowly into something worse—indifference.

Without thought, she grabbed his arms, holding him there as if he would turn his back on them and sail home to Scotia that very moment. “You helped Robert’s warriors learn how to kill us with ease,” she said. “And now you prepare to leave us like lambs to be slaughtered by his band of wolves.” Her fingers clamped tighter as if to shake him, which would prove only futile. Who could shake a mountain except God? God?

She swallowed. “You call yourself a Horseman of God and yet you will not fight for those who pray continually for His holy help,” she said. Her eyes squinted as she held his unblinking stare. “God put you in my path at the tavern, a last chance to take back our isle. How can you say no?”

“God did not seduce me into staying here,” he answered. “That was all ye.”

She felt the flush, that had flared hot at Joshua’s words to Torben, reignite. What would Amma say when they were alone? Would Osk tell her son that she’d slept with Joshua to keep him on Orkney?

As if unable to hold himself apart anymore, Joshua’s hand went around Kára’s back. She let go of his arms, and he thrust her up against him as if they were once again coming together in wild passion. It knocked the breath from her, her head tipping back to meet his gaze.

He leaned in, looming until they were inches apart, and began to speak. “Ye know very little about me, lass, but I will reveal this to ye. I do not respond well to deception,” he said, his words succinct with venom.

Her mouth opened to deny her tricking him. Unfortunately, that was exactly how it had begun, a desperate plan to seduce him into staying, and perhaps to once and for all end Torben’s insistence that they wed. And they had recently found out that Erik Flett, Kára’s uncle and the chief of the Orkney inhabitants on mainland Orkney, had been captured by Robert’s son. If the leadership of the Hillside people fell to her, she’d do anything for a chance to save them. Even give a stranger your body? The voice in her head made her cheeks flame hot, but she silenced it with resolute will.

She met his gaze without wavering. “You would have left this morning. Before I could bring you to meet those who will die without you leading them,” she whispered, hoping at least Brenna could not hear her. Why hadn’t Calder come back for her? Instead, they all stood listening. Damn close quarters. There were no secrets at Hillside.

Her lips pulled back slightly as if she snarled. “Be our teeth to bite back at the wolves. They have taken our people and spilled our blood. Lead us against them. With you,