Chapter 2
He should have been annoyed.
Rhys glanced at the lass held between his men, Myles and William.
Myles’ long red hair had come undone from its binding and was sticking out at odd angles.
The side of his cheek was scraped and bloody from where she’d whacked him a good one with a tree limb.
William held the lass with his good hand.
The other arm dripped blood down it from where she’d sank her sharp little teeth into his skin.
He almost laughed. To think that little lass was able to escape from two of his toughest warriors, drawing blood from them both, was almost inconceivable. If the bards found out, they’d be spinning stories for years to come.
Aye, he should be annoyed that she was giving him so much trouble, but he was more impressed than anything. Even now, she struggled against the hold on her, twisting and thrashing her lithe body from side to side and daring to stomp down on Myles’ foot.
“Ow!” Myles bellowed, but he didn’t release his hold on her.
William laughed until she bent and tried to take another chunk out of his arm. “Oh, nay nay!” he clipped. “Ye’ll nae taste any more of me flesh.”
“Let me go, ye… ye savages!”
Rhys turned, giving his back to his men and the lass, and started walking. The trio followed, albeit with the lass fighting every step of the way. She wouldn’t stop flapping her jaws either. She kept hurdling every dire warning she could think of. As if she had forgotten who he was.
“Me faither is Laird Murdoch,” she screeched. “When he finds out –”
“Aye, he’ll likely thank us for taking such a foul-mouthed hellion off his hands,” Rhys snapped without turning around.
That shut her up for all of two seconds before she started yelling again.
“I’ll see yer heads on a spike,” she snapped. “I’ll walk by them every day and laugh. I’ll —”
Rhys had had enough.
He stopped so suddenly, Myles and William had to pull back on the lass to keep her from running into him.
He turned to face her and stepped forward with purpose, a hand going to his belt and the several long lengths of leather he kept there.
Her eyes dropped to his hand, then went wide when she met his determined gaze.
“Nay,” she said, shaking her head. “Ye willnae!”
“Ye act like an animal, ye’ll be trussed up like one,” Rhys said and quickly bound her wrists with the strips of leather. She tried to fight him, but with both men holding her still, she didn’t have much luck.
She opened her mouth, ready to scream at him again, Rhys was sure, but he cut her off before she could make a sound.
“Do it, lass, and ye’ll find yerself gagged as well.”
She clamped her mouth shut but her furious ochre eyes shot daggers and promises of retribution at him. Rhys didn’t care as long as she was quiet. Her constant threats and yelling had given him the beginnings of a headache at the back of his nape.
They walked in blessed silence for several more minutes until they reached the area where they’d left the horses. Rhys grabbed the lass by the upper arm and led her over to a thin tree where he quickly and efficiently used more of his leather strips to bind her to the trunk.
Rhys didn’t have to look at her to know she was glaring at him. He could feel her heated gaze stabbing through his back as he faced William and Myles.
“If ye two arenae too wounded, go and check the perimeter,” he said with a sarcastic tilt to the corner of his mouth.
“God’s teeth, Rhys,” Myles curses. He paused long enough to take a long tug of the whisky in his flask before continuing. “We’ve taken raiding parties without a scratch, but she near put us in the ground with a twig and a jaw.”
William scoffed, glaring at his bloody arm.
“If I’d had a dagger, ye’d be hurtin’ a lot more. I would have gutted ye meself.”
“That’s enough,” Rhys said irritably. He shook his head and threw his head back, looking up into the heavens. “Saints preserve us!” When he lowered his head, he glared at them, who hadn’t left yet to check their surroundings to make sure Murdochs wouldn’t sneak up on them.
At the sight of Rhys’s impatience and fury, both men scrambled away without another word, leaving Rhys alone with the hellion.
“What do ye want with me?” she demanded a little later, though her voice was softer now. “I daenae think ye plan to murder me, as ye could have done so when ye caught me.”
Rhys ran a hand through his dark hair. He didn’t like frightening women. It went against everything inside him. But she didn’t need to know that. He needed her timid and docile while he carried out his plan. He nearly laughed out loud. Amara Hall didn’t have a docile bone in her bonny body.
He stared at her a long while. At how some of the tresses of her long blonde hair had escaped the braid they’d been bound into, whisps curling around her face like a loving caress.
Her brown eyes were so dark and captivating, reminding Rhys of the chocolate treat he’d tasted from Italy.
Sweet and mysterious. They met his gaze unfalteringly with pride, stubbornness, and intelligence.
The last time he’d seen her, he’d been a married man and she had been a lassie of just seventeen. But he’d noticed her then and figured she’d grow into a beautiful woman. He hadn’t been wrong. In fact, he hadn’t guessed just how lovely she’d become. Until she opened her mouth, that was.
“Me faither—”
“Slaughtered mine in cold blood,” he interrupted her. “Ye Murdochs are treasonous liars who have nay honor.”
She stiffened, her eyes widening and then narrowing. “Ye O’Donnells are the ones who came to our land and slaughtered our people!”
“Only after yer clan attacked us,” he shot back.
Amara stiffened, which must be pretty uncomfortable with her back pressed against the bark of the tree, he thought. “Me faither didnae kill Laird O’Donnell,” she said through gritted teeth. “I daenae care what yer kin said. There was nay proof and he wouldnae do somethin’ so dishonorable.”
Rhys stood, feet braced apart and hands on his hips. “The lairds met in private to discuss the truce,” he said, his voice low and powerful. “One was murdered. That leaves the other as the murderer.”
Her chin rose defiantly. “Anyone could have gone in and taken the O’Donnell by surprise,” she argued.
“Is that what yer faither says happened?”
She opened her mouth and then clamped it shut. Her eyes briefly shot with sadness and Rhys wondered where her thoughts had gone. She blinked and looked away, then turned her gaze back on him, stubbornness shining in those brown depths.
“So ye kidnapped me for revenge? Six years later?”
He raised a dark eyebrow. “Would I nae be within me rights?”
She didn’t answer. Just continued to watch him.
His gaze dropped to her lap, noticing how she was slowly working at the leather binding her wrists.
Her hands stopped, as if she thought he hadn’t noticed her feeble attempts to get free.
Rhys knew how to tie a knot so that even the strongest highlander couldn’t break free.
True, he hadn’t made the knot so tight and strong for her, but he was still confident she wouldn’t get loose.
“Nay clan would condemn me were I to slit yer throat right here and now,” he continued, then felt a pang in his gut at the sudden fear that entered her eyes. He sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose, then looked at her. “Aye, but I’m nae goin’ to hurt ye, lass,” he said quietly.
“Forgive me, Laird,” she sneered, “if I daenae put a lot of faith in that promise, trussed up to this tree as I am.”
He was spared from responding when William and Myles returned. Their gazes darted to the lass, probably making sure she was still there and bound, then to him.
“All is clear,” Myles said.
“They’ve added guards to the gate,” William added. “But other than that, naught looks amiss.”
Rhys nodded. “Good. Ye two keep an eye on our guest. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Rhys felt Amara’s eyes on his back as he mounted his stallion and left the area without a look back. Now to put the main part of his plan into motion.
When word had come that the Murdochs had captured his cousin Finn, Rhys had started making plans for his return.
The longer he stayed with the murdering Murdochs, the bigger the chance Rhys would end up losing another family member to them.
He didn’t doubt they were even now torturing Finn, who was also his man-at-arms. He wasn’t worried about Finn revealing any sensitive information.
For one thing, Finn was loyal and strong and wouldn’t talk easily.
For another, the O’Donnells didn’t have any nefarious plans or secrets to reveal.
But Rhys knew that wouldn’t stop the Murdochs from trying their best to get information and then becoming angry when there’s nothing forthcoming and kill Finn because he was no use to them.
That is what inspired his plan to kidnap the laird’s daughter.
He would use her as a bargaining chip. As long as he had Amara, then hopefully they wouldn’t kill Finn.
The trees thinned as he got closer to Murdoch Castle. Rhys knew what he was about to do was risky. He could find himself shot full of arrows before he even uttered a word. But it was a risk he had to take. Finn was his family, a part of their clan, and as laird, it was his duty to protect him.
Shouts rang out when Rhys broke through the tree line and rode onto the grass-covered field.
It would take him several minutes to cross the open space until he was close enough to talk to the guards at the gate.
Every step he took, his body tensed as he expected to feel the bite of an arrow rip through his flesh.
He made it without a single arrow aimed at him, though, and figured the guards were curious about his sudden appearance but also apprehensive about doing anything to the O’Donnell laird that could cause another war to break out.
“Tell yer laird I have his daughter!” Rhys called out, his voice calm but hard. The closest guard started and glanced backward at one of the other guards. Rhys took a breath and delivered the rest of his message. “Return me kin and I’ll return Lady Amara to him, unharmed.”