CHAPTER 7
“I’ve come to kidnap ye,” Finn said.
He let out his breath when the lass did not awaken half the village by screaming—at least, she had not yet.
He’d gambled on her being a steady lass and not given to hysterics.
After how coolly she reacted to seeing her former husband while half the Lowland nobles watched, he figured she either had ice in her veins or was extremely adept at pretending she did.
Of course, he could have avoided the risk by grabbing her from behind and muffling her screams with a hand over her mouth. But they had a long journey ahead and that certainly would start them off on the wrong foot.
The lass had been beautiful from a distance in her glittering gown, but this close—and, God help him, in just her shift—she stole his breath away. Hair the color of moonlight spilled in waves over her shoulders and breasts, which were firm and high.
Ach, what was wrong with him? He was frightening her enough without gawking at her breasts, fine as they were. With an effort, he dragged his gaze back to her face. He had the odd sensation of falling when he found himself staring into her deep brown eyes, but he shook it off.
“I give ye my word I won’t harm ye,” he said, and gestured to one of the stools at the small table. “Now can we talk this situation over quietly?”
She hesitated, but then she perched on the stool, all the while watching him warily with those large brown eyes.
“There’s no cause to make this difficult,” he said. “But one way or another, you’re coming with me.”
“Ye can’t kidnap me,” she said. “Do ye know who my brother is?”
“As it happens, that’s the verra reason for kidnapping ye,” he said. “You’re a valuable lass.”
“You’re mistaken if ye believe my brother places a high value on me,” she said. “He did not give a thought to what might happen to me when he fled to France.”
Finn had seen how her brother used her as a lure for the king and other powerful men. Archibald Douglas would want his beautiful sister back.
“As soon as your brother does what we want,” he said, “you’ll be returned home, safe and sound.”
“What if he doesn’t do what ye want?”
“He will,” Finn said. “Until he does, I give ye my pledge ye will not be harmed.”
“I’m to take your word for that?” she asked.
“Aye.” He gave her a smile that usually won over the lasses.
She arched one delicate eyebrow. Apparently, she was not fully persuaded.
“Look, lass, I don’t want to do this either. As neither of us has a choice, let’s be off,” he said. “We’ve a long journey ahead of us.”
The lass did not give away much, but Finn sensed a subtle change in her. Perhaps his admission that he was forced into this kidnapping had worked to ease her fears, as he had hoped.
“A long journey?” she asked in a soft voice that had the effect of fingertips brushing against his skin. “Where are ye taking me?”
She appeared to accept that she was going with him. This was going surprisingly well.
“I can’t tell ye where just yet,” he said.
“But it is far?” she asked.
“Aye.” He found it odd that his answer did not appear to upset her. But then, she was a cool-headed lass who did not reveal much.
“Since you’re a Highlander”—her gaze darted to his kilt, which had the dual effect of making her cheeks go pink and his cock spring to life—“ye must be taking me somewhere in the Highlands?”
“Aye.” He saw no harm in telling her what she already knew. He unwound the rope he’d brought from around his waist. “I’m sure ye understand I must take the precaution of binding your hands.”
“I’ll make a bargain with ye, Highlander.” She stood up and backed away from him with her hands raised. “If you’ll agree not to bind me, I’ll give ye my word that I’ll go willingly.”
“Ach, I cannot do that.”
“Did ye not say this would be easier on both of us if I cooperated?” she asked, tilting her head in a verra fetching way. “On such a long journey, surely there will be many opportunities for me to attempt to escape or cry for help.”
“That would indeed make the journey tedious,” he said. “But I’m afraid you’ll have to earn my trust.”
“Me,” she said, “earn your trust?”
“All right, I’ll give ye one chance,” he said, holding up his finger. “If ye try anything, I’ll bind ye hand and foot. Now, we must leave.”
“I can’t go in my shift,” she said, sounding more shocked at this than at being kidnapped.
When she looked down at the offending garment, his gaze followed hers and lingered. He could not see through the damned thing, and yet his throat went dry imagining her naked body beneath it.
“If ye care nothing for my discomfort,” she said when he failed to respond, “anyone who sees me like this will know something is amiss, and you’ll be caught for certain.”
Traveling with this lass in a night shift would certainly draw unwanted attention. When she started for the other room, he suspected a trick and caught her arm.
“You may not come into the bedroom with me,” she said in a quiet but firm voice.
Did she have a man in there, waiting for the opportunity to attack him? Finn drew his dirk. Holding her by the wrist, he eased the door open with his shoulder.
The room was tiny and sparsely furnished with a narrow bed built into the corner.
After finding nothing under the bed but a large basket, he relaxed.
The opening to the loft above was too small for a grown man to fit through.
And if a man did manage to squeeze through there to hide instead of protecting his woman, he wasn’t anyone to worry about.
There was nowhere else to hide and no windows to offer Lady Margaret an escape.
“Whose cottage is this?” Finn asked.
“My friend’s,” she said. “He’s away.”
Finn was curious who this friend was to her and why she came here. Sometimes bored noblewomen found it exciting to bed men not of their class. Lady Margaret was sinking low indeed if she was carrying on an affair with a villager.
The room was so small that they were mere inches from each other and the narrow bed. He eyed the bed and imagined it would be a tight squeeze for two, but—
“I need privacy to dress,” she said, interrupting his untoward thoughts.
She glanced meaningfully toward the door, and yet his feet failed to carry him out. He was still imagining her lifting her night shift to reveal slender calves and thighs that stretched to…
When his gaze reached her primly folded hands, he snapped his gaping mouth shut.
This time, she gave him a stern look and pointed toward the door.
“Ye don’t need help with the hooks on your gown?” he asked. “I’m good at that.”
“I’ve no doubt you are,” she said, and it did not sound like a compliment. “But I can manage on my own.”
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Margaret’s heart was pounding in her chest so hard that she thought the Highlander must hear it.
She was terrified he would discover Ella and Lizzie.
Praise God for Lizzie’s quick thinking—she must have heard the voices and hidden Ella with her in the loft.
Lizzie even had the wits to pull the rope ladder up behind her.
The Highlander grinned at her as he finally backed out the doorway. As soon as he closed the door, Lizzie’s head popped through the opening overhead. When Margaret put her finger to her lips, Lizzie nodded, then dropped the rope ladder and scurried down with Ella in one arm.
Margaret took Ella, who was furiously sucking her thumb, into her arms and held her close. She glanced up just in time to see Lizzie start toward the door with a small dirk in her hand.
Good heavens, Lizzie meant to stab the Highlander. Margaret grabbed Lizzie’s arm to stop her. Then she conveyed her plan to Lizzie with gestures, pointing to herself and Ella and then to the door.
You’re going with him? Lizzie mouthed.
Margaret bit her lip. She wished she had more time to think it through! But she’d wanted to find a man to take her to the Highlands. Now one had found her—albeit a kidnapper—and she was going to use him to get away.
When she nodded that she was going, Lizzie’s eyes lit up, as if Margaret was embarking on an exciting adventure rather than making a desperate escape that could end very badly indeed.
“He’s a Highlander and verra handsome,” Lizzie whispered, as if these were redeeming qualities that made this ridiculous plan worth the risk.
“When we travel through MacKenzie lands, I’ll try to escape and find Sybil,” Margaret said in Lizzie’s ear. MacKenzie lands stretched from sea to sea across the Highlands, so they ought to pass through them.
She nearly jumped out of her skin when a deep male voice called through the door.
“Are ye having trouble with those hooks, lass?”
“Nay! I’m nearly ready.” Margaret quickly donned the servant’s gown and cloak she had borrowed—or rather, stolen, now that she could not return them. She felt bad about that, but it could not be helped.
“What if ye can’t get away from him?” Lizzie asked in a low voice as she fastened the hooks at Margaret’s back.
“Then I’ll be a hostage.” Highborn female hostages were usually treated well, even as guests.
Weren’t they?
“If you’re waiting for Archie to pay a ransom,” Lizzie whispered, “ye could be gone a long time.”
That was her best hope. The longer she was away, the better her chances of avoiding her brothers’ schemes altogether. It may be wrong to wish they would be forced into exile again, but she did.
She retrieved the basket from where Lizzie had shoved it under the bed. Ella immediately climbed into it and curled up, still sucking her thumb, which gave Margaret a sick feeling that Ella was accustomed to hiding in the basket. The poor child!
“Shhh,” she warned Ella, then kissed her forehead and gently pulled the blanket over her head.
She could not hide Ella from the Highlander for long.
Her hope was to delay the discovery until they were too far away for him to want to turn back.
Luckily, Ella was an unusually quiet child—Margaret could not let herself think about why that was now—and the night was dark.
If she could just get Ella out of the cottage without the Highlander seeing her, her plan should work.
Margaret blinked back tears when she and Lizzie embraced to bid goodbye.
“I’ll miss you. Tell Alison not to worry,” she whispered in Lizzie’s ear. “I’ll send word when I can.”
Lizzie held up her dirk, then dropped to her knees and strapped it to Margaret’s thigh before she could object.
“What are ye up to in there?” the Highlander said through the door. “Fair warning, I’m coming in to fetch ye.”
“Don’t!” she called out.
Margaret’s heart raced as Lizzie scrambled up the rope ladder and pulled it up behind her. As she picked up the basket, her gaze caught on the pouch with her shattered onyx lying on the bed. Without pausing to think why, she slipped it into the side of the basket.
Then Margaret opened the door to her kidnapper—and whatever fate would bring her.