The Pirate’s Indecent Proposal (Highland Scandal #1)

1 NOTHING BUT A THORN

Loch Buie

Off the southern coast of the Isle of Mull

Scotland

Early March, 1318

“I WAS NEVER enough, was I?” Liza rasped, her throat tight. “I was never her ?”

A muscle in her husband’s jaw flexed.

She was brave to bring up his first wife, Greta. In all their marriage, she’d avoided doing so, for Leod’s temper could be terrifying. But she had nothing to lose now.

“No,” he replied, his gaze glinting. “She was a rose, but ye have been nothing but a thorn.”

His voice was harsh, his words designed to wound.

Even after years of weathering his scorn, Liza flinched. Her sister Kylie had warned her not to marry this man. “I know his sort,” she’d said one evening, as they sat by the hearth in their father’s hall, Highland collies curled at their feet. “And if ye agree to wed him, ye shall end up unhappy.”

There had been a knowing edge to her sister’s voice, but Liza had dismissed her words at the time. Kylie’s loveless and childless marriage had embittered her. Leod was a taciturn sort, yet he’d grieved his first wife deeply, which meant he was capable of love. Liza had been certain that she’d crack the ice around his heart.

How wrong she’d been.

And now, her husband was going to kill her.

She’d known it from the moment he trussed her up like a goose and threw her into the boat. He’d then rowed her out into the loch—and with each long draw of the oars now, fear cramped Liza’s bowels.

She couldn’t believe no one had tried to stop him. Leod’s men knew what he was about to do—she’d seen it in their eyes—but not one of them had prevented the laird. Base cowards, all.

Liza’s eyes grew hot and prickly. Her jaw throbbed from where he’d struck her when they’d argued in the solar, yet it was difficult to focus on anything but the twisting dread in her belly and the ache in her chest.

I’ll never see Craeg again . Lord have mercy, her son had no idea where she was, and soon, he’d be left alone with his violent, cruel father. She’d no longer be his shield.

The rhythmic splash of the oars, the cry of gulls, and the whistle of the wind—much colder now that they weren’t on land—became her world. Loch Buie was a salt-water loch, and eventually opened out into the sea, where a wide channel, between Mull and the mainland, stretched.

Despite the biting wind, sweat trickled down her back, between her shoulder blades. The end was surely close. How far would Leod take her before he dumped her into the deep?

They were distant from Moy Castle. Its grey-stone tower was little more than a smudge against the rugged outline of Ben Buie to the north. However, her husband didn’t stop rowing, and as they drew farther out into the loch, Liza’s gaze settled upon his pitiless face.

“Ye’d rob our son of his mother?” Her voice faltered then, her vision misting.

Leod’s face darkened. “Aye … he’s better off without ye.”

“No, he’s not!” Fury ignited in her gut, smothering her fear. She lunged forward in the rowboat, causing it to rock precariously. “Ye have no right to say such vile things!”

Her husband stopped rowing. An instant later, he lashed out, his palm catching her across the cheek. The force of the blow sent her sprawling, and the back of her head smacked against hard wood. With her wrists bound before her, she was unable to catch herself.

Biting down a cry of pain, she rolled onto her side. Hot tears now slid down her cheeks.

“I’ll say what I like, woman,” he muttered picking up the oars and resuming his task. “And after today, I’ll never have to hear yer nagging voice again.”

Panic slammed into her breastbone. “I tried to love ye,” she choked out. “But ye have made it impossible.”

Something rippled across Leod’s face then, his dark eyes shadowing with what might have been guilt. “I should never have tried to replace Greta.” He cut his gaze away. Sweat gleamed upon his brow as he increased the tempo of his rowing, the oars foaming through the glistening water now. “And ye were my punishment.”

Grief strangled Liza then, tears blinding her. Frantically, she blinked them away. She couldn’t lose control. There had to be a way out of this. She had to master her fear of this man. She had to plead with him.

“Please, Leod,” she said huskily. “Don’t kill me.”

Her husband didn’t reply.

“Ye aren’t a murderer,” she plowed on, even as sickly fear churned in her belly. “Not in yer heart … and if—”

“Silence!” he barked, cutting her off. “Or yer end will be all the nastier.”

Dizziness swept over her at this threat, and she bit down on her tongue to stop more desperate words from spewing forth.

Meanwhile, he’d rowed her out far, beyond the headland and out into the sea itself. Smooth swells lifted the rowboat like a child’s toy. They were crossing the channel now, where birlinns and cogs traveled between Oban and the southern coastline of the Isle of Mull.

Her pulse started to thump in her ears.

Where’s he taking me?

Leod angled the boat west then. Twisting, Liza’s gaze alighted upon a grey rock that thrust out of the sea. Little grew upon it, save clumps of yellowed grass, although gannets and shags had made this lonely spot their home too. They flapped their wings, screeching in warning as the boat inched closer.

Heart pounding, Liza turned back to face her husband. His eyes glittered now, a look of grim satisfaction upon his features. So, this was his plan—not to dump her into the icy water, but to leave her here to die alone.

“No,” she whispered. “Ye can’t.”

“I can,” he replied, his lips curving into a cruel smile. “And I will.”