Chapter 3
Jasper watched as the woman’s bright blue eyes shoot open in shock.
She had clearly not been expecting him to be standing there.
He was pleasantly surprised to see how beautiful she was.
The blue of her irises was flecked with green, and her golden hair was braided down her back.
Even in her dishevelled state, he could see that she was stunning.
Her porcelain skin resembled the skin of a peach.
The sculpted features were angelic, to say the least, with a fine nose and cherubic lips.
Jasper’s eyes moved down her slender form as he noticed the way her damp dress clung to her curvy hips, displaying the hourglass figure that made his breath catch in his chest. She was quite shorter than he was while still being tall for a woman.
“You are not Darragh,” she said in confusion as she took a step back and looked him up and down, tilting her small chin in the air.
Right, an English lass, he thought to himself when he caught her accent.
“Aye, my name isnae Darragh,” he agreed with her as she looked him up and down as if appraising a piece of jewellery. He didn’t know who Darragh was, but he suddenly took an instant dislike to the man. He was an incredibly lucky bastard if he was allowed to touch this lass, whoever he was.
“Are you the laird of this castle?” she asked fearlessly as she looked him in the eyes, making him respect her for not backing down. The woman was feisty, to say the least.
“Aye, ye are correct again, lass,” he replied, thoroughly amused by the situation at hand.
It had been ten years since anyone had been caught roaming his land.
Even longer since anyone dared to look him in the eye.
He’d almost thought the guards were lying to him when they said that a woman had been taken captive.
He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, but a feisty English woman with a flair for danger wasn’t it.
“Great, if you are the laird, we can finally discuss the situation at hand.” She walked closer and laced her hands through the bars, displaying her delicate fingers.
Jasper immediately noticed the lack of rings.
“The situation at hand?” he asked with one eyebrow raised as he crossed his arms over his chest. He found the way she held his gaze utterly fascinating.
It was hard to find anyone that would look him in the eye without focusing on his eyepatch and the scar that ran over his eyebrow.
The way she squared up to him without any fear felt like a breath of fresh air.
He would have thought her a formidable foe if she had been a man.
“Yes, the situation at hand,” she complained. “Your brutish guards have manhandled me without giving me a chance to explain. I am a lady from London; I should not be treated in this manner.” She looked around her surprisingly neat cell in disgust. “Or kept in a place like this.”
He briefly wondered if one of the guards had taken pity on her and cleaned the floor, an unlikely scenario that he’d take up with them at a later stage.
“Oh, did they nae make ye feel welcome, me lady?” he asked as he held back his mirth. There was something highly amusing about the fierce English woman challenging him even though he could probably carry her over his shoulder with ease.
“I can see that you are mocking me,” she said irritably.
“It’s clear that you do not have any manners yourself.
So, if you would just let me out, I will be on my way, and you will never have to see me ever again.
My coachman took a wrong turn, and we ended up…
” Her words were cut short as he smirked at her.
“Who said that I wish to nae see ye again?” He could see that he had taken her off guard with his words.
“I assumed you didn’t want me on your lands,” she explained, “given the fact that you’ve locked me in your dungeon, or is this how you treat all of your guests that you wish to see again in the future?”
He noticed the gentle curve of her mouth as she stood up to him, matching his snide remarks with witty banter and unbridled sarcasm.
“So ye called me down here to say that ye wished to be set free?” He bit back a small, mocking smile.
She seemed so fragile and small behind bars, yet she presented herself as if she was the biggest man on Earth.
The fire in her eyes seemed to rival the passion of half of the men in Scotland.
He’d win all of the clan wars if he had a woman like her leading his troops.
“Yes,” she said. “I would like to continue my journey. My friends will be waiting for me. So, if you would kindly just let me out…”
“Oh, ye willnae be going anywhere, me lady,” he shot her a wolfish grin. “Ye will be staying right here.”
“I beg your pardon,” Joan said, shocked by the audacity of the handsome man who held her captive. She was finding his mocking mannerism hard to stand as he teased her with every sentence.
The laird was far more handsome than any Scottish man she had ever seen before in her life — or any other man, for that matter.
His wavy black hair hung on his muscular shoulders as if the wind had blown the waves into the strands.
He was far taller than she was with a toned body and broad shoulders.
His cheeks were stubbled, and his visible eye was green.
She liked the length of his nose and the way his lips seemed to express his thoughts before his eye even did.
Shaking her head, she tried to focus on his words instead of the muscular shape of his body which made her skin tingle in an alarming manner. The effect his presence was having on her was unnerving, to say the least.
“Ye heard me,” he said, displaying a charming smile with perfect teeth though the underlying threat wasn’t lost on her as she met his gaze. “Ye are nae going anywhere until ye tell me who sent ye.”
“Nobody sent me,” she said defiantly. “I was traveling by coach through the highlands when my carriage was attacked by a group of highwaymen,” she did her best to explain. “I was on my way to visit a friend at her castle. My coachman took a wrong turn and then…”
“I dinnae see how an English lass can have friends in the highlands of Scotland,” he challenged her words. “I find that to be very unbelievable.”
“Well, I do,” she retorted. “Stranger things have happened on heaven and earth other than an English woman marrying a laird. Or do you really have no idea of things that happen in the world beyond the walls of your castle?”
“Is that the story then?” he challenged her even further as he held her gaze. His eyes fell to her chest and travelled down her body as she spoke.
“Yes, that is the story, my laird. I was going to visit my friend, Ave…” Her words were once again cut short in an utterly annoying fashion as he spoke over her again. She was beginning to lose her cool with the way he kept on interrupting her.
“My friend married a laird; she even has children with him. She’s a respected member of the Scottish community. Her sister even married his friend who is also a laird,” he mocked.
She took a moment to look him over once again, forming an opinion of him that wasn’t as pleasant as the attraction she felt to his outward appearance.
“Exactly right — not that I see the allure in marrying Scottish men, judging from what I have seen so far. We’d all be better off sticking to men of the crown.
” She felt a strange fluttering in the pit of her stomach when he looked at her with a strange darkness in his eye that was mirrored by the teasing smile on his lips.
The man oozed passion from every pore of his body. She briefly wondered how it would feel if he pushed her against the bars and kissed her lips.
“Aye, then ye better tell yerself that ye dinnae like what ye see,” he smirked. “The way ye are staring at me will have me sending for the guards soon enough. There’s nae telling what ye would try if ye were nae locked in a cage.”
“I was not staring,” she snapped and averted her gaze, knowing full well that she had been looking him up and down.
The man was one of the most handsome and roguish beings she had ever seen.
His physique reminded her of the sculptures her father had made of the Greek Gods from Athens.
What was worse than that was the fact he seemed to be able to read her thoughts.
“Suit yourself,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders. “Why is it then that an English lass was traveling by herself in the highlands? Where was yer guardian if yer story is true? I ken that the English never let their women out of sight even for a second.”
“I’ll have you know that I do not need a chaperone or even a guardian as you put it.
I am more than capable of looking after myself, thank you very much.
” She cocked her head to the side defiantly as she glared at him, feeling a strange heat accumulating in her core.
Her body seemed to respond in strange ways the more time she spent with the man.
He was utterly infuriating with the way he baited her, yet she was drawn to the strange and dangerous laird with his forward ways and handsome features. Joan knew that she should be afraid of her captor, yet she couldn’t help but feel a strong pull toward the danger he exuded.
“Aye, that’s why ye are currently being held captive in me prison. Ye are very capable of looking after yerself.” The mocking in his voice made her anger flare up.
“I am currently being held captive in your prison because your guards are some of the most incompetent men that I have ever had the misfortune of encountering. Not a single one of them gave me the chance to explain what I was doing on your doorstep.”
“Ye should be careful, me lady; speaking to men like that in the highlands is a sure way of getting hurt.” He looked her up and down, taking in the curves of her body through her sodden dress. “Or worse, killed,” he said in a husky voice as his eye grew darker.
Joan shuffled on her feet, feeling hot under the collar from the way he was looking at her. The hungry look on his face reminded her of a wolf on the hunt.
“Are ye ready to tell me why ye were traveling alone? The highlands are nae place for a lady, even one that claims to be capable of looking after herself.”
“Quite frankly, I don’t think that is any of your business,” she said. His cool demeanor was having a strange effect on her that she didn’t know how to handle. “And I can look after meself,” she mocked his Scottish accent while making a face.
“Well, me lady,” his voice dropped to a dangerous tone as he took a step forward and stared at her through the bars, “until it does become me business, ye will be enjoying a stay here in me dungeons.”
Joan swallowed hard as he glared at her. She wondered if her mother had been right, and her smart mouth had finally proven to be her downfall.