Page 1 of In Bed with a Highland Beast

CHAPTER ONE

As Alaric MacGregor sat on a rickety chair in a dark, unfamiliar, bare room, he began to think that perhaps this was a bad omen for his upcoming marriage. His wrists were bound behind his back and his mouth filled with the taste of blood whenever a grimace pulled his bottom lip open again.

An irrational thought, surely—he was certain his betrothed was a perfectly lovely woman, though he had yet to meet her, interrupted as his return home had been by the men who had captured him. When his brother, Laird Evan MacGregor, had called him back from his scouting mission to meet his future wife, Alaric had thought that even if it would be a marriage of convenience and he had little, if any, say in it, he could still try to make the most of it. He hadn’t expected that he would find himself suddenly captured and brought to a cottage in the middle of the woods for reasons he had yet to find out.

There were two things those men could want from him: information or gold, and Alaric would give them neither.

Ever since he had been thrown in that room, he had been considering his chances of escape. There were half a dozen men outside his door, at least as far as he was aware. For all he knew, there could be more and he simply had not seen them yet. There was also only one escape route—the door that was firmly locked. The room where they kept him had no windows and with his hands bound, escape seemed all the more challenging.

Someone will have tae let me loose… that is the only way.

If he could just get one of the men to untie him, he could then overpower him, steal his blade, and attempt an escape. Sooner or later, they would have to cut him loose, after all. If they wanted him alive, he would have to eat or relieve himself at some point, and it would be then that Alaric would strike.

Until then, he would bide his time. He had already tried to untie his own hands only find out to soon that his binds were too tight, giving him no room to wiggle free. The attempt had left the skin on his wrists raw and chafed, and so instead of hurting himself further or wasting his energy on something that would not work, he decided to wait for someone to come to him.

He didn’t know how much time had passed when the door opened, but it couldn’t have been too long, since light still poured into the room through the opening, drowning out the orange glow of the single torch that burned on the wall. Alaric blinked a few times as his eyes adjusted to the light, at first seeing nothing but the dark silhouette of a man. When he walked closer, he saw the details of his appearance: short yet sturdy,with dark hair and rough features, his face and forearms scarred, much like Alaric’s own.

“I dinnae suppose ye would be so inclined as tae let me go,” said Alaric, drawing a chuckle out of the man. At least he had a sense of humor, he supposed.

“Nay, I’m afraid I cannae dae that just yet,” he said. “But I have good news. We’ve sent word tae yer braither an’ if he wants ye back without any missin’ limbs, I’m sure he will pay the gold we asked soon.”

“Is that so?” Alaric said with a sigh. Of course, it was gold. More often than not, it was gold, but Alaric had to admit he was surprised, even almost impressed, at how organized those men were. For common brigands, they had done a good job trailing after him and overpowering him before he could do any real damage to any of them. The fight when they captured him had been short and brutal, but the six of them had managed to subdue him suffering only minor injuries.

Unlike them, Alaric couldn’t say he had suffered only a few injuries. There was no part of his body that didn’t ache, as the men had found it, if not necessary, then certainly amusing to beat him bloody and bruised. The only reason he was still so alert was the sheer force of his will and the fact that he had been in such situations before, so he knew how to push away the pain and focus on what truly mattered: a strategy to get out of there alive.

They could have at least had the decency tae avoid me face.

His face had taken the worst of the damage, and the headache that spanned the entirety of his skull was yet another obstacle in his search for freedom. No matter how much he tried to ignore the throbbing pain, it was persistent and ever-present, a constant fog over his mind.

“That is so,” said the man. “So, the sooner he sends it tae us, the sooner ye can leave.”

“Me braither daesnae negotiate with the likes o’ ye.”

“I dinnae wish fer him tae negotiate anythin’,” said the man. “Our demands are what they are. I only need him tae comply.”

Knowing Evan, not only would he give those men the gold if it meant saving Alaric’s life, but he would also meet them himself instead of sending some men to deliver it. Alaric couldn’t help but worry about him. He would much rather escape on his own than have this exchange between Ewan and the brigands.

Besides, the last thing he wanted was for them to get what they desired. He didn’t want them to win.

“Well, until then, perhaps ye could untie me fer a moment,” Alaric said with an impatient sigh. “Unless ye want me tae relieve meself on this chair.”

The man hesitated for a moment, perhaps considering his options. Naturally, he didn’t want to untie Alaric, but what other choice did he have?

“I think ye can wait,” said the man and Alaric looked at him in disbelief. Though he didn’t feel the need to relieve himself just yet, he didn’t understand how that man expected him to wait when he would. Was he supposed to simply wait until Evan had brought the money? For all he knew, it could take days.

“How long, precisely, dae ye expect me tae wait?” he demanded. “Ye seem like a fool but I didnae think ye would be that much o’ a fool. Even fer ye, this seems?—”

His sentence was cut short by the echo of shouts that reached his ears through the wooden door. Both he and his captor whipped their heads around to face it, and as the man pulled his sword out of its sheath, Alaric desperately tried to free himself, this time uncaring of the damage he caused to his wrists.

Whatever was happening out there couldn’t possibly be good, especially since he could hear the thundering sound of boots approaching the door. The steps belonged to several men, a jumbled mess of sound that reminded him of a pack of spooked horses, and the only thought in his mind was that there was perhaps a coup of sorts, some of the brigands banding up against the rest.

Without a word, the man rushed out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him. Alaric didn’t hear the distinct sound of the lock, but even so, he didn’t dare move. Where could he go, bound as he was, when there was a fight raging outside? If he tried to escape like this, chances were that he would end up dead.

Straining his ears, Alaric listened for any signs that would give him a hint as to what was happening. Soon, the footsteps stopped and so did the shouts. Alaric waited, holding his breath with his gaze glued to the door, to see what was on the other side.

What he saw when the door opened would have never crossed his mind. A woman stood there, tall and lean, with her long, dark hair tied at the nape. In her hand, she held a sword, its blade bloody. Blood was splattered all over her clothes, too, dark stains against the brown fabric, and her knuckles and lip were bruised and swollen, but she was still grinning.

“There ye are,” she said as she stepped inside, wiping the blade on the edge of her sleeve without a care in the world for the blood she smeared there.

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