Kidnapping the Laird #2
Catriona shifted in the small bed, pulling the bedcovers up higher to stay warm, hoping that warmth would draw her into sleep and away from these disturbing thoughts and feelings.
After watching his treatment of his leman and his reaction to her many public caresses and even kisses, Catriona recognized lust when she saw it in his dark, green eyes.
And tonight, as he met her gaze after arguing with his brother, lust shone there.
And something deep within her told her he lusted – for her.
Another hour or two passed and the glimmer of an idea occurred to her about how to get past both her and Padruig’s pride in the matter of their marriage.
After he’d sworn in front of others that he would never ask to come to her bed, she understood he would not, even if she invited him.
But something inside her heart wanted him to want her and wanted something more than this inconvenient, impersonal arranged marriage.
Something deep in her soul wanted to have a husband like Nairna’s who gazed on her with love in his eyes.
Damn her foolish heart but she wanted Padruig Grant to look at her that way.
Two
The moon rose above, shining enough light down for him to continue his journey home without waiting for dawn.
The relentless spring rains had finally given way to drier days and pleasant nights.
He was about two miles from the keep when they attacked.
Padruig fought with all his strength, but they – four or five warriors – took him prisoner.
A hood was tossed over his head, covering his eyes, and a gag tied around that.
With his hands bound behind his head, he was trussed up like a roast in the cook’s larder and tossed over the back of his own horse.
Though Padruig tried to estimate their direction and distance, he lost track after only a few minutes of hanging upside down over a moving horse.
’Twas clear to him that whoever they were, they wanted him alive, for once they got his sword away from him, they could have killed him.
So, Padruig decided to wait before taking any action.
Though laird of the clan, he had brothers to step into that chair if something happened to him, so he did not fear for the clan or its future.
Even Catriona would be cared for. But why kidnap a laird?
Only retribution and destruction could follow and who would gain?
They travelled for some time, up hills and down, near rushing water, until they drew to a halt and he was dragged from the horse.
His legs shook and his head spun as they pulled him along a path, through a doorway that was too low for his height and into some kind of croft or cottage.
His arms were untied and he was forced to sit on the dirt floor.
Padruig grabbed the nearest kidnapper and pulled him down, too, but he was quickly subdued, this time chains replacing the ropes.
Padruig could not tell how many were present or who they were.
They efficiently chained him to the wall, his arms separated and placed on either side of him.
The chains were low enough and long enough only to let him sit or stand, but not to move more than a half-pace from the wall itself.
Once he was secured, he heard his captors speaking, both inside and outside the building, but again in voices too low and too muffled to identify.
The conversation continued for some minutes and he took advantage of their inattention to shift around and get some idea of how much movement he could accomplish in spite of the chains.
The door slammed, surprising him, and he heard hammers pounding nails into the frame around the door.
He tried to yell against the gag, demanding answers, but between the noise of the hammering and the gag and hood, Padruig knew no one could hear him.
Then, as quickly as this escapade had begun, he could hear them leaving – leaving him chained to a wall, and gagged.
Padruig struggled then, pulling against the chains and trying to reach the knot in the gag to get free of it.
Who would do this? Who would take him prisoner and leave him so? Did they think to ransom him? Ha! The Grants could call many to their sides in a dispute or war, but they were not a wealthy clan. There would be no ransom for him. If he got free, he would beat the truth out of someone.
He twisted around and finally reached the knot behind his head and tugged it loose. Padruig loosened the canvas hood and drew it off. He expected not to be able to see anything in the dark, so the lamp burning on the table surprised him.
But the sight of Catriona standing there shocked him more.
Catriona swallowed against the fear and tried to meet his gaze.
She had begun to reconsider this rash plan before she’d taken the first step, but now she knew it had been a mistake.
He blinked and rubbed his eyes as though he did not believe what he was seeing and she recognized the moment when he accepted it was her before him.
Husband or not, Padruig Grant was a formidable man to have as an enemy.
Even chained to a wall, the power in his arms was evident – his muscles rippled as he tested the resistance of the chains.
A bruise darkened the edge of his jaw even now.
Catriona fisted her hands and fought the urge to touch it.
It must be the tension of this plot that made her notice such things now, when she’d rarely done so during the last four months.
“What is this, Catriona?” he asked her, his voice milder than she dreamed possible.
All of the words, all of the possible explanations she’d planned in the weeks while she laid her plans and none came to mind in this moment.
“Tell me!” he yelled louder than, his demand echoing around them both as his anger grew and the chains rattled against the stone wall behind him. Catriona trembled for a moment and then regained control over herself.
“Do you do your father’s bidding? Who were your accomplices?” he asked again.
He pulled against the chains and she jumped back a step in reaction.
Cat raised her hand and rubbed her forehead.
Why had she ever thought this would work?
Padruig somehow managed to climb to his feet.
Now he used his height to intimidate her since his loud voice had not.
Dougal had warned her of what to expect when Padruig lost his temper and so far, he knew his brother well.
What had he advised? Oh, hold her ground.
Let him yell. Then negotiate. She’d done that the morning after their wedding and it had worked, so Cat had every expectation that it would again …
but this time with much different results.
Laughter bubbled inside her at this inappropriate time.
From the anger in his eyes, the clenching of his jaws and the way he pulled against the chains, Cat understood there would be no negotiating with him for a while.
She would be lucky to leave here alive, let alone with a husband.
His brothers had not seemed worried over their safety, but that gave her no comfort – they were blood, she was a MacDonnell.
She sighed and shook her head and, crossing her arms over her chest and standing as tall as possible, she spoke the words that entered her mind.
“I want a husband.”
And then he responded as all Grants did – to her name, her family’s history and based on the animosity that existed between their clans – with anger.
If anyone remained behind after bringing him here and securing him, they would have heard his rants in spite of the boarded-up door and windows and in spite of the thick, stone walls of this house.
He rained down curses on her and her clan.
He fought against the chains until his wrists bled.
Cat attempted to interrupt him several times to explain, but he did not stop …
Until he did.
Collapsing against the wall and sliding down to the floor, Padruig pulled in one ragged breath after another trying to regain his control.
He’d always been lauded as the even-tempered of Micheil Grant’s sons, but clearly he had inherited his father’s ability to lose his self-control without warning.
Though being attacked, beaten, kidnapped and threatened with death was more reason than most would expect.
Now, he wiped across his face with his arm and tried to catch his breath.
“Another husband?” he asked in a voice hoarse from shouting. “There are far easier ways than this to get a new one.” He jangled the chains for emphasis.
She did not say anything. Padruig could see that he’d frightened her out of saying anything now.
Good. He could not ever remember displaying his anger like this, not even when faced with a wife who did not want him.
That morning, he may have raised his voice, but that was more about the affront to his clan than to himself.
A pang of guilt touched him just then, reminding him of the way her words had indeed hurt him.
And in a way that had nothing to do with his clan or hers, but in every way it was about him.
His pride over his position in his clan had been offended.
Worse, her words that morning had called his honour into question.
He watched as she silently walked around the chamber, gathering things he only now noticed and putting them on a wooden tray.
She walked towards him and he stood, not wanting to miss the chance to get hold of her and force her to give over the key to the chains.
It was then that he realized where they were, where she’d had him taken … and the implications of it.