The Seduced by Donna Grant Page A

his stallion’s neck until he pulled up alongside Ronan.
    Daman watched as Stefan’s horse closed the last bit of distance and came even with Ronan. Daman gave his mount his head and rode up beside Morcant.
    A few moments later, Ronan sat up and gave a gentle tug on the reins, easing his stallion into a canter. Daman and the others followed suit as they rode their horses four abreast.  
    Daman loved being with his friends, riding across their untamed homeland. Why then did he have a bad feeling about going to the gypsies?
    There would be no stopping Ronan. Daman learned long ago that once Ronan had the bit in his mouth, he was going for what he wanted.  
    Then again, they all had their issues. Morcant’s was women. He loved women – all women. That had gotten him into trouble more times than Daman could remember.
    For Stefan, it was his anger. He oft times called it a monster, and when it took him, Stefan became someone else.
    Daman had his own hindrance. It was his inability to ask for help – from anyone, even the men he thought of as brothers. It began when he was three and stealing food just to survive. He wanted more of a life for himself, and he wanted to do it all on his own.
    It took years, but Daman was no longer homeless or starving. He was prized for his sword arm and often requested by his laird in times of need.
    The four rode from one glen to another until Ronan finally slowed his horse further to a walk. They stopped atop the next hill and looked down at a circle of gypsy wagons hidden in the wooded vale below.
    Daman looked at the caravan and the gypsies walking around. There was a large fire in the middle of the camp. Daman searched but saw no other Highlanders with the gypsies. His ominous feeling continued to grow, and he couldn’t hold off letting the others know.
    He shifted atop his mouth. “I’ve a bad feeling. We shouldna be here.”
    Morcant’s horse flung up his head, and he brought his mount under control with soft words. “I’ve a need to sink my rod betwixt willing thighs. If you doona wish to partake, Daman, then doona, but you willna be stopping me.”
    “Nor me,” Ronan said.  
    Daman waited for several moments as Stefan sat silently. Then, he gave Ronan a nod of agreement.
    Daman wasn’t surprised, but at least he’d told the others what he was feeling. Ronan was the first to ride down the hill to the camp, with Morcant right on his heels. Stefan galloped his horse down the hill as a young beauty with long, black hair came running out to greet Ronan in her brightly colored skirts.  
    Ronan pulled his horse to a halt and jumped off with a smile as Ana launched herself into his arms. Ronan caught her and brought his lips down to hers.  
    Stefan halted on Morcant’s left side, and Daman rode up on Morcant’s right. Daman glanced around, noting how the gypsies watched Ana with Ronan.
    Ronan and Ana spoke quietly before Ronan turned her toward them. “Ana, these are my friends, Daman, Morcant, and Stefan,” he said, pointing to each of them in turn.
    Her smile was wide as she held her arm out to the circle of wagons. “Welcome to our camp.”
    Morcant quickly dismounted and dropped the reins to allow his horse to graze freely. He then walked between two wagons and into the center of the camp.
    Stefan dismounted and patted his horse. “I’ll be back,” he mumbled and followed Morcant.
    Indecision warred within Daman. The four of them were always fully invested in whatever they did, but for some reason, he couldn’t walk into the camp. His gut churned with apprehension.  
    That’s when he saw Morcant and Stefan exchange a look before they both glanced back at him. Daman slid from his horse and gathered the reins of all four mounts to tether them together.
    “I’ll keep watch,” Daman said. He walked to an oak outside of the camp and sat.
    Ronan wrapped an arm around Ana and walked away with her, saying, “Your loss.”
    Morcant gave a nod and continued to a woman