Page 35 of Return to Clan Sinclair
Bruce could have been her Highland lover, warrior, leader of men. Gone for weeks or months or years, he would have greeted her the same, marking her as his, so hungry for her he didn’t care where they were or who might be watching.
She’d wanted him to take her on the beach, the secluded cove as their chamber. The long grass above them and the earth curving behind them would be their bed. They had no need of perfumed potpourri, not with the scent of the sea and the roses from Drumvagen. With the bright sunlight, there was no necessity for candles or lamps.
Instead, he’d held her close, shielding her from the wind, comforting her without a word spoken. In those moments in his arms she felt herself healing, all the hurts and pains of the past three years fading away.
He’d walked with her to the grotto, bent his head to kiss her one last time. She could see his eyes darkening, the pupils becoming wider. His face was bronzed as he kissed her. Then there was only him and the stars and sparkles behind her closed eyelids.
She hadn’t seen him for a whole day. He hadn’t been at dinner the night before or at breakfast this morning. Had he left for Edinburgh again or gone farther, to Inverness?
She missed him. When she heard a footfall, she turned with a smile to greet him, only to have a cloth dropped over her head.
Seconds later she was upended.
“Put me down this instant!”
Who on earth was manhandling her this way? Bruce would have had more care. Wouldn’t he?
She kicked out, but he only grunted in response. In the next moment he grabbed her legs. She screamed.
“I should have muzzled you,” he said.
That wasn’t Bruce’s voice.
Whoever her abductor was, he was carrying her somewhere. She tried to kick again, but he was holding her so tightly she couldn’t. She beat at his back with her fists and he retaliated by slapping her on the bottom, hard enough that she cried out.
“Let me go!”
She could hear his shoes crunching on the sand and felt the sudden bright warmth on her legs. Where was he taking her? Who was he?
Her brothers-in-law were not adverse to force when necessary, even though she’d never known them to use it on a woman. Had they been so upset at her leaving Ireland they’d come after her? Was she being kidnapped in order to force her to return to Iverclaire?
“I don’t care how much they paid you. I will not return to Ireland under duress.”
Her abductor only grunted in response.
“How much did they pay you? I’ll double it.”
He struck her again.
Silence was probably a better recourse, at least until she saw her brothers-in-law.
Suddenly, she was flying through the air, landing hard on soft grass. The breath left her in a whoosh. She jerked the covering off her head, and seeing a giant a few feet away, scooted backward on the hill overlooking the beach..
She’d never seen him around Iverclaire. She would have noted such a large man with a pelt of black hair on his head matched by a salt and pepper beard.
Poor man, he really was quite ugly. He had a porcine face, one lined with plump wrinkles. His nose was shorter than it should have been, adding to the piggish look, and his mouth was a little pink rosebud. His eyes, however, were quite spectacular. Green and intent, they sparkled at her like emeralds.
“Whatever they paid you, I’ll double it.”
He narrowed his eyes, staring at her. Finally, he shook his head, bent down and grabbed her arm. She jerked away.
“I’ll walk,” she said. “If you put me over your shoulder again, I’ll get sick.”
He grabbed her arm, propelling her along and forcing her to nearly run to catch up with him. A carriage was parked on the curve of road just out of sight of Drumvagen. After nearly throwing her inside, he closed the door, mounted the driver’s seat, and slapped the reins over the backs of the two horses.
Her Irish relatives had a good deal to answer for when she saw them again. If she hadn’t been determined to return to Scotland before, she certainly was now.
CHAPTERTWELVE
