Kidnapped By a Rogue (The Douglas Legacy #3)

PROLOGUE

Drumlanrig Castle

The Lowlands of Scotland

“You failed again, you useless woman!” He leaned over the bed and shouted in her face, “Have- you and your family not made me suffer enough already?”

Margaret curled into a ball and covered her ears. Another miscarriage. Another lost babe. Her heart could not bear it.

“For God’s sake, stop your damned weeping,” he said. “I’m speaking to you.”

Could he not show her some mercy for once and leave her alone?

“Nay, you’re worse than useless!” William continued his ranting as he paced back and forth beside the bed. “You’re a rope around my neck tying me to your traitorous family.”

“Please, laird, your lady wife must rest,” the elderly maid spoke up. “She’s lost too much blood this time.”

The poor woman’s attempt to intervene earned her a shove from William that landed her on the floor.

Margaret tried to get up to help her, but she was too weak to rise from the bed.

Frightening the elderly servant appeared to calm William for the moment, and he sauntered over to the side table to pour himself a whisky.

“I was the envy of every man in Scotland when we wed. A rare beauty, they called you,” William said, raising his cup to her in mock tribute. “But what good is a beautiful wife if she’s a cold fish in bed and too weak to bear an heir?”

Margaret made no effort to placate and soothe him as she usually did. She was too lost in grief to care what William said.

“Of course, it wasn’t your looks that made ye such a dazzling marriage prize,” he said. “’Twas that your brother was Archibald Douglas, Earl of Angus, the sly devil who wheedled his way into our widowed queen’s bed and persuaded the lovesick cow to wed him.”

Why was William droning on about this now? Did he feel no sorrow for the child they’d lost?

“Your brother outmaneuvered all the other powerful magnates by becoming the stepfather of the infant heir to the Scottish throne.” William held his clenched fist inches from her face. “He had it in his grasp to rule Scotland.”

His sour breath in her face made her uneasy stomach turn. When she tried to roll away, William pinned her arms.

“Not one of the men who envied me would have ye now.” William’s voice was low and dangerous. “You’re nothing now that the men of your family have been charged with treason and fled to France.”

“William, please…” She suspected she was still bleeding, judging by the growing dampness beneath her, and she just wanted him to leave.

“In truth,” he said, nodding to himself, “’tis a blessing ye lost the child.”

A fresh flood of tears streaked down the sides of her face. A blessing? How could he say that? For the sake of a peaceful home, she had made excuses for his behavior and forgiven him time and again, but this was too much.

“Since there will be no child, I’m free to be rid of ye,” he said. “Even if it costs me a damned fortune in bribes, I’ll obtain an annulment from Rome.”

A cold sweat broke out on her brow, and she felt so lightheaded she could barely follow what he was saying.

“I’ll not risk losing my lands and title for a barren woman and her treasonous brothers.” He grasped her shoulders and shook her. “Do ye hear me? I want you out!”

She fell back on the bed when he released her. Her head swam, and her fingers had gone numb.

“Get her out of here,” he told the maid as he headed for the door.

At last, he was leaving.

“Of course, laird,” the maid said. “I’ll prepare another chamber for her right away.”

“Nay, I want that woman gone from the castle,” William shouted. “Gone! Tonight!”

“But Lady Margaret ought not be moved,” the maid said.

“I’ll not allow her to endanger me another day,” he said. “Nay, not another hour.”

“But laird,” the maid said in a hushed voice, “I fear she may not survive a journey.”

“That would save me a good deal of trouble and expense,” he said before slamming the door behind him.

A short time later, Margaret had the odd sensation of looking down at herself from a great distance.

There she was, Lady Margaret Douglas, sister-in-law to the queen, leaving Drumlanrig Castle in the midst of a howling storm in the back of an open horse cart that smelled of hay.

Her sole guard was Old Thomas, the stable master.

Her mind drifted back to the day she arrived at the castle as a young bride, full of hope and dreams and accompanied by two dozen warriors and several carts that carried her trunks.

How far she and her mighty family had fallen. Not that it mattered.

She slept in fits and starts, waking when the cart hit a bump that jostled her head against the bare boards of the cart. The wind and rain slashed at her face, but the cold seemed to come from deep inside her.

Margaret had no notion how much time passed, whether it was days or hours, when she awoke to find Old Thomas peering down at her with a worried expression on his wrinkled face.

“Ye must hold on, lass,” he said. “Blackadder Castle isn’t much farther. You’ll see Lady Alison soon.”

Alison. Margaret smiled at the thought of her sister, but she could not muster the strength to speak.

“Your sister will nurse ye back to health,” he said as he tucked the rough, wet blanket around her. “You’ll be safe at Blackadder Castle under her husband’s protection.”

Safe from what? The worst had already happened. She had lost another babe.

The next time she awoke, it was to the painful tingling of warmth creeping into her hands and feet.

“Blankets! And more peat on the brazier, now! God have mercy, she’s so cold.”

She heard her sister Alison giving instructions and people scurrying about the room.

“Her gown is bloody,” Alison said. “Why did ye travel with her in this condition?”

The voices faded, and Margaret’s mind drifted again until her sister squeezed her hand.

“May William burn in everlasting hell,” Alison said. “I wish I could send him there myself.”

When Margaret felt Alison’s tears falling on her hand, she forced her eyes open.

“She’s awake, praise God!” Alison cried out.

“I lost the babe,” she told her sister, her voice coming out in a whispered croak. “I wanted it so much.”

All she had ever wanted were the ordinary things most women had. A home, a husband, children. Children most of all.

“I’m so sorry, sweetling,” Alison said.

“I’m glad I made it here to you,” Margaret said. “I didn’t want to die alone.”

“You’re not going to die,” Alison said. “Ye must fight, Margaret.”

It would be a relief to let go and join her lost babes.

“I know what it is like to despair, to feel so beaten down ye lose hope.” Alison brushed Margaret’s hair back from her forehead as their mother used to. “One day, everything will be better. I promise.”

How could it? She would never have the life she wanted. And she was so very tired…

“Don’t let that whining, selfish, cowardly, poor excuse for a man take you from us,” Alison pleaded. “You mustn’t let him defeat you.”

Margaret forced her eyes open again. It pained her to see her dear sister so distressed. She wished she could comfort her.

“Now that you’re free of him, you’ve everything to live for,” Alison said with tears streaming down her face. “Do ye hear me, Margaret? You’re free of him!”

Freedom seemed a poor substitute for her lost dreams.

But it was all she had.