Claimed by the Wolf Prince Read Online Free Page A

not of my choosing,” he said impulsively. “If I had my way…” Struan broke off, realising he had been perilously close to heresy.
    The wolves, which had hunkered at his feet, set up a howl. The women who would form Iona’s escort were detaching themselves from the procession. The remaining Faol stood impassively, torches flaring, a respectful distance behind them.
    â€œStruan!” The anguish in Iona’s voice made him flinch. Her fingers clutched at his arm. He gritted his teeth and forced himself to detach her from him. He had no reason at all to feel guilty.
    Iona watched with growing terror as the women made their way remorselessly towards her. Struan, flanked by the wolves, was standing just a few feet away, but it felt like a hundred miles. Even in the gloom she could see that the women were stunningly beautiful. They moved with an animal grace. Their eyes glittered like the wolves. The urge to flee warred with her pride, keeping her rooted to the spot. As theycircled her, Iona threw back her head defiantly and garnered all her courage. The scent of them was sweet, heady, alluring as belladonna. As she was swept away, she cast a last, pleading glance back at Struan. For a second, she thought she saw him surrender to her unspoken request. He took an involuntary step forward. Then he turned away, and she was lost among the silent, pitiless throng of Faol women.
    Dark. It was pitch-black, darker even than the night now, for she had been blindfolded. Struan had abandoned her. She had only herself to rely on. “I am a McKinley,” Iona muttered. “I am a McKinley.”
    The women hurried her on, nudging and pushing her up the path until the air changed and Iona sensed that she was in an enclosed space. Her boots rang on stone. Stairs, endless amounts of narrow stairs. To her immense relief there was a rope to cling to. At the top, she was guided along a passageway. A heavy door clanged shut behind her, and light dazzled her eyes as the blindfold was removed.
    She was in a room like no other. A chamber with a vast vaulted ceiling of bare rock, the rock walls hung with heavy tapestries. It was warm, a huge fire burned in a hearth, which seemed to be hewn into the rock itself. Was she in some sort of cave, or grotto? “What is this place?” she asked, her eyes darting from one woman to the other.
    One of them, older than the others, with rich chestnut hair, reached out to touch Iona’s own copper tresses. “You are in the kingdom of the Faol, Highlander,” she said softly. “Your new home.”
    Iona hugged her arms tightly around herself and tried to back away, but the women drew closer. Their scent was stronger now, overpowering. Hands reached out to touch her, rubbing the rough cotton of her sark, the wool of her petticoats, between long, delicate fingers. “Such coarse material,” a dusky, almond-eyed beauty declared with a curl of her lip. “I wonder you can bear it next to your skin.”
    The gowns of the Faol women were of a downy silklike material in vibrant, jewel-like colours. Ruby red, sapphire blue, emerald green. “Feels nice, doesn’t it?” the chestnut-haired woman said, capturing Iona’s hand and placing it on her bodice, laughing when Iona blushed wildly, snatched her fingers away in shock at the contact with the woman’s bare flesh.
    â€œLet her be, Lillias.” The dusky beauty’s smile was cruel. “Poor little Highland creature, you’re not like us, are you?”
    â€œYes, let us see what mortal woman look like under their clothes,” one of the other women said, descending upon Iona purposely. “I have heard that their skin is as hard as a stag’s horn.”
    â€œUnlike their Highland men,” one said maliciously.
    â€œIt is no wonder then, that they find our warriors so irresistible,” a statuesque blonde said, with a sultry smile. “As well for us, that we have