Chapter 2
By the time they reached the Scotsman’s makeshift camp, Violet’s back and buttocks ached.
It wasn’t as though she was not used to traveling, but she was unfamiliar with riding, and the long stretch of the journey combined with the deathly tight grip of her corset had made it the most uncomfortable few hours of her life.
Perhaps this was the reason her father had been against her learning to ride all this time.
She was thankful when the Scotsman helped her dismount, and didn’t even protest that he had lifted her as though she weighed nothing more than a tea tray.
He, on the other hand, walked easily, and the sight offended her even more. Her legs quivered, but she maintained her balance, refusing to give him any more reason to laugh at her.
She couldn’t help but remember how he had laughed at her muttered promise to escape.
“I would enjoy seeing ye try.”
The memory made her shiver.
Looking around the unfamiliar camp, she realized why he had found it humorous. The roads leading into the camp were winding and thoroughly unfamiliar, and with the dense foliage that ringed them, it was clear no one would stray this far into unfamiliar woods.
Her cowardly father and fiancé would certainly not risk their lives coming this far for her, not when they hadn’t even been able to stand up to her kidnapper in their own land.
She stood, unsure what to do as the men got to work around her immediately.
She noticed grimly that she was the only woman in the camp, and with no real benefit to the group, they went about their work with practiced efficiency, ignoring her.
She wrapped an arm around her middle, trying to keep her rising anxiety at bay.
“Dae ye intend to stand there all day?”
The question made her whirl around. She hadn’t even heard him move or sensed him standing behind her.
The Scotsman stood there, staring down at her with a blank look.
“You seem to forget you kidnapped me, so I have absolutely nothing to do but stand here,” she scoffed, folding her arms.
He sighed and shook his head, pointing towards a fallen log. “Go and sit there,” he ordered. “Food will be served soon.”
“How can I trust that you won’t poison me?” she asked with a glare.
“If I wanted to get rid of ye, lass, I wouldnae have bothered bringing ye all this way here,” he answered, turning away from her. “And I wouldnae use poison.”
With those words, he strode away, leaving the decision of sitting or standing up to her.
What an annoying man!
She went to sit nonetheless.
Soon after, she was joined by another tall Scotsman, but in contrast to the grumpy Laird, he had a broad grin on his face.
“Do forgive the Laird his terrible manners, miss,” he said with a warm smile. “He doesnae like to talk much.”
“That doesn’t mean he shouldn’t be polite,” she pointed out, pouting.
“Trust me, I’ve tried tellin’ him that,” he chuckled.
She found herself smiling back despite herself.
Perhaps her exhaustion with the day’s events had her desperate for some degree of comfort in any way she could get it.
“I am Logan Reily,” he offered. “The Laird’s man-at-arms.”
“Violet Wilkinson,” she returned.
“A pleasure to meet ye, miss,” Logan said with a mock bow.
She found his mannerisms almost delightful, but in her predicament, she couldn’t afford to let down her guard.
He was trying to make her comfortable, an action she was truly grateful for.
Unlike the man responsible for her ordeal, who was hell-bent on ignoring her.
He hadn’t even looked at her since he had pointed at the log, which she was now sitting on.
Damned brigand.
“Ye’re glaring hard at the Laird like ye have plans to hit him,” Logan noted, humor lacing his voice. “May I ask why?”
“He kidnapped me and now ignores my existence like I’m nothing more than an inconvenience he is saddled with,” she huffed. “Of course I want to hit him.”
Logan laughed, slapping a hand over his belly, and she wondered how such a jovial man came to work for someone as infuriating as her kidnapper.
“As much as I would like to see that, I would advise against it, miss,” he said, grinning widely.
“Why?” she asked, frowning and folding her arms. “Will he hit me back?”
She wouldn’t be surprised if he would do that, considering he hadn’t even considered her reputation when he had tossed her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and touched her without a care for propriety.
“Nay,” Logan answered, looking horrified by the prospect. “The Laird will never hit a woman.”
She eyed him sceptically.
“I only advise against it because ye would hurt yer hand if ye did so,” he added. “Trust me, I speak from experience.”
His words were spoken in such a deadpan manner that she laughed before she could stop herself, and he joined in, clearly relieved.
She felt a hot tingle on the side of her face and turned her head, only to find the Laird looking at her. She shot him a glare and turned her head away.
Annoying oaf.
When she escaped him, she would definitely be making some much-needed changes to her life, and that included submitting to the authority of men who were too weak to protect her when it mattered.
Indeed, she would rid herself of her loyalty for propriety’s sake and choose to do all the things she had been held back from doing.
She could picture it now.
“I’m nae sure I like the sharp look on yer face,” Logan muttered beside her.
She had almost forgotten about his presence.
“I have no idea what you’re referring to,” she lied, turning to him with a pout.
He smiled as though he didn’t believe her, but he didn’t pry.
Instead, he said, “I ask that ye forgive the Laird for takin’ ye the way he did.
He isnae one to bring innocents into his war, but this time, he was desperate.
His daughter was taken by that man. Surely, ye can understand that it is nay easy thing to ignore. ”
She could understand that, considering how she wished her own father would have fought for her as fiercely as this laird seemed to be fighting for his daughter.
She eyed him again as he worked at building a fire in the middle of the camp, and respect crawled into her heart upon seeing the lines of worry etched into his brow.
He was a good father, that much she could appreciate, even if he did kidnap her. For how much of a brigand he appeared to be, it seemed he was capable of caring for someone.
Still, it wouldn’t be enough to change her mind or deter her from her plan to escape.
If she could find her way to the main road, then she would be able to find help at one of the towns they had passed by.
Those thoughts kept her company while she watched the bustle of the camp die down as night began to fall. Her sleeping area was close enough to the fire to keep warm, but far enough from the men so that her dignity was maintained, and it gave her ample view.
She pretended to sleep while counting the minutes in her mind, until there was naught but the sound of snores and the cries of owls to be heard.
Risking a bold move, she lifted her head to survey the camp, checking if any eyes remained open. Seeing none, she sat up. Taking care to avoid any branches that could snap, she moved toward the outer edges of the camp, and once she was sure she was out of earshot, she quickened her steps.
Her heart thudded as freedom loomed in the distance. It was startlingly cold in the woods, but she couldn’t complain, not when she could imagine the outrage on the Laird’s face when he woke and found her missing.
She was about to break for a run when a large figure stepped into her path, and before she could stop herself, she collided with it. Their collision was hard enough to send them both toppling to the ground.
She fought hard to stand, but he rolled and pinned her beneath him. She opened her mouth to scream, but a hand came over her mouth. She bit down on it, happy when he pulled away with a pained grunt.
“Why do ye insist on being so feral, lass?” a familiar voice complained.
“Laird McLeod?” she asked, confused.
She blinked, trying to get her eyes to adjust in the dim light provided by the moon, and once his face came into focus, she gasped.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she hissed. “Get off me this instant!”
“I will when I’m sure ye willnae attempt to escape again,” he answered. “What were ye thinkin’? A wild beast or brigand could have happened upon ye, and ye would have gotten hurt. Are ye tryin’ to cause a war?”
“The only brigand I see is ye,” she spat. “Ye’ve treated me with naught but impropriety since we met.”
“If ye werenae such a harridan, then I wouldnae have needed to use such force with ye,” he shot back with a hard glare.
A harridan?
The nerve of him.
She glared back at him with as much anger as she could muster.
But as she looked at him, she noticed the things she was better off not seeing.
The rich darkness of his hair curled in an unruly fashion on his head.
The deep, dark brown of his eyes, and even the rugged handsomeness of his face.
How his dark beard gave him such a severe older look, even though she didn’t think him that much older than her.
She swallowed at the thought that she actually found him… attractive.
No. She refused to be swayed because of his good looks.
She squirmed against him, trying to wrench free, but he groaned exasperatedly, pinning her with his arms.
“Stop moving,” he bit out.
“Then you have to get off me,” she insisted, still squirming.
He groaned again and pressed her shoulders down even harder. “Stop moving, damn ye!”
She glared up at him, wondering why he’d use such a hard tone. But then she noted the strain on his face and the hungry wildness to his eyes, and stiffened. Indeed, his hips were cradled between hers, and a long hardness was pressing against her sex.
Her face flamed at the realization.
She recognized the look in his dark eyes very well. Lord Westall had the same one whenever they were alone, and he had let his hand linger inappropriately on her thigh on more than one occasion.
The Laird was attracted to her, and they were all alone in these dark woods, with no one to stop him from ravishing her if he so desired.
She swallowed as her heart began to thud in an unsteady rhythm, dreading his next move. But when he pushed himself to his feet and extended his hand to her, she was shocked.
“I ken ye may be comfortable on the ground, but ‘tis cold, and ye will surely catch yer death if ye stay here,” he muttered.
She eyed him warily, wondering at the sudden change in his demeanor and the fact that he didn’t try anything untoward with her.
Just who was this man?
She accepted his hand with a frown and stood, dusting off her dress and her hair. She was glad there was no mirror nearby, or she would have seen how much of a fright she looked.
“Well, lead the way back to camp, because I—”
He took her arm, pulling her back towards the camp as though irritated with her.
When they stepped back into the clearing, he released her and moved towards where her bed furs lay.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she asked, watching him drag her bed furs close to his.
“Lie down,” he ordered.
“I will do no such thing,” she said, affronted.
“Lie down, lass,” he grunted. “Or so help me God, I will force ye down and tie us both together. Let me see if ye’ll complain about impropriety then.”
She gasped, her mouth falling open.
How dare he?
“Ye told us to stay away from the bonny lass, me Laird,” one of his men said. “Was that only because ye wanted her for yerself?”
“Shall we give ye both some privacy, me Laird?” another called out.
A roar of laughter followed.
Violet felt her cheeks flame with mortification, and angry tears filled her eyes. Through her blurry vision, she spotted even Logan whistling.
She lowered her head. This was what she hadn’t wanted—to be treated like the butt of a joke. And now even uncouth men like them would laugh at her expense and make such lewd comments.
“I willnae tolerate such talk about the lass!” the Laird barked, causing everyone to jump. “Ye are to respect her at all times. Anyone caught speakin’ such slander will face me wrath. Am I clear?”
“Aye, me Laird!” they chorused.
Violet didn’t want to feel gratitude towards this man who infuriated her at every turn, yet she found herself filled with an overwhelming need to thank him.
It was his fault she had gotten insulted in the first place.
After all, if he hadn’t insisted on her sleeping beside him, his men wouldn’t have made such jokes in the first place.
Never had anybody protected her so fiercely, and her heart swelled. But rather than say anything, she lay down on her furs and turned away from him. Her compliance would be the only gratitude she would show him.
She heard the men’s muttered apologies, but she closed her eyes, trying to force back the tears that threatened to fall.
She heard him lie down some minutes later, and her heart began to thud as the heat of him began to seep through her clothes, even though a few feet separated them.
She swallowed hard, stiffening in fear as she wondered if he would lay a hand on her. But for a long minute, she heard nothing but the rhythmic sound of his breathing as he drifted off to sleep.
She let out the breath she had been holding and settled into the furs as well, and soon her body succumbed to the bone-deep exhaustion she had felt all day.