Chapter 5 #2
Out of the corner of her eye, she watched the Laird hand his baby back to the woman who seemed to be his aunt.
She was running out of time, seconds ticking down until he dragged her away from the door and called her his captive again.
They were in a dungeon, after all. What had she thought was going to happen?
That he was going to throw her a tea party?
“Come away from there,” his deep voice rumbled, his large hand falling on her shoulder.
Nancy whipped around. “What did I say about touching me without permission?” she snapped, her heart racing. Her gaze darted to her bag, left open in that carved-out recess. “I have to leave. I didn’t mean to come here. I’m sorry I ever did, but I’m no one’s captive.”
His arm curved around her waist, and with light pressure, he pushed her back, away from the door.
His strength took her breath away. He was barely exerting any effort whatsoever, but she couldn’t help but stumble back, unable to fight against the powerful push of that impressive arm.
Well, mostly unable to fight back.
Giving in to the impulse that she’d suppressed earlier when admiring those muscular calves of his, she turned her head and bit him in the bicep… and almost broke a tooth.
To her surprise and irritation, he just raised a judgmental eyebrow and asked, “Did ye just bite me?”
“Of course she did,” the older woman with the incredible hair and regally beautiful face remarked with a tut. “Ye’re scarin’ the life out of her, but nay matter, because I willnae be leavin’ Freya’s new nursemaid in here.”
Nancy blinked, poking her front teeth with her tongue to make sure nothing had been chipped. “Pardon?”
Being a nanny to a squalling baby was only marginally preferable to being a prisoner, and she wasn’t even fully convinced of that. At least alone in a dungeon, there’d be peace and quiet.
The Laird seemed equally unimpressed by the job offer, as he moved his arm back to his side and drew in a deep breath that drew her gaze to his broad chest. She watched, mesmerized, as it rose and fell, wondering if his lungs could drink up way more air than most.
“What?” the woman—Isla, Nancy thought she’d heard the Laird say—replied with a determined look. “Nay one else has answered yer summons, and nay one is going to. Nae after what ye did, and certainly nae after what they say ye did.”
That made Nancy’s reporter senses prickle. She loved a good story and solving a decent mystery, and hearing that from Isla fed a little morsel to the monsters of her curiosity, increasing their appetite. Her professional curiosity, of course.
What did he do?
“I willnae let a stranger that—nay offense to ye, lass—acts half-wild and looks half-mad anywhere near me daughter,” the Laird growled, his green eyes flashing with anger.
Isla scoffed. “So ye’d rather that word went around that ye’re torturin’ lasses in yer dungeons? Aye, that’ll serve ye well with the gossipers.”
“Torture?” Nancy raised her hand, her stomach dropping. “No one said anything about torture, and there’s no point. You won’t get anything out of me that I haven’t already said.”
The Laird ignored her, his irritation firmly funneled toward his aunt. “I daenae care what the gossipers say.”
“Well, perhaps ye should,” Isla insisted. “We’ve had enough unrest, nephew. This is supposed to be a time of peace, so show yer people that ye’re peaceful! The poor lass is clearly dazed and in need of shelter and care. Nae even the Hawk would be so cruel as to deny her that.”
“Ye daenae ken what she is,” the Laird shot back, his hands clenching into fists.
“I ken that after a bath, sleep, some decent food and room where she doesnae have to be so afraid, she’ll nae seem half-wild or half-mad anymore,” Isla argued. “The lass is just lost. Anyone with eyes can see that.”
As if to ignore her point, the Laird closed his eyes and drew in another deep breath. He almost looked peaceful… if it weren’t for the cords standing out in his neck and the tense biceps and the balled-up fists and the grim line of his mouth.
“Fine,” he muttered, opening his eyes again. “The lass can stay for a week until she finds a way to return to wherever she came from, and we can say she’s Freya’s nursemaid, but she willnae be near me child alone.”
Isla breathed a sigh of relief. “A generous gesture indeed, nephew.”
“Nae so generous,” he replied. “She’ll be yer responsibility.”
Nancy put her hand back up. “Don’t I get a say in this?”
“Aye, ye can have a say,” the Laird said, taking a half step closer and leaning close to her ear.
“Here’s yer choice, lass. Ye can bathe in nice, hot water and rest yer head on a soft pillow and eat yer fill at me expense, or I can chain ye up down here and see what it takes to…
” He leaned closer still, and his hand came up to turn her face toward him, his mouth so near that his breath mingled with hers. “…coax the truth from yer lips.”
Nancy’s mind went blank, her lips parted, her breath lodged somewhere between her chest and her mouth. She couldn’t even begin to think of speaking, though her expression must have answered for her.
“That’s what I thought,” he said quietly as he drew back up to his full height. “A pity.”
With that, he went to the door, made a pointed show of turning the iron ring, and left.
Still, it was at least twenty seconds after his departure that Nancy finally reminded herself to breathe, though it would be a lot longer before her heart stopped racing.
I don’t think this is a dream anymore.