Page 3 of Kidnapped By her Highland Enemy
“Surely there is a line between both circumstances I can straddle,” Lucas replied. “I’m nae against marriage, but I’d like to nae go home to a cold bed at night.”
“Well, God’s grace ye find it, Lucas,” his father replied. “But if ye cannae, a wife to bear ye a son will do.”
The welcome feast carried on right into the night when the tables were shifted to side and dancing started. The fiddlers struck up a merry tune that tempted Lucas to join the reveling throng, but he amused himself with only looking on.
Before midnight, he excused himself to his rooms, where his bath was ready and waiting for him. Doing away with his dirty shirt, Lucas unhooked his leather belt and eased his kilt down to reveal a bloody cloth right under it, covering a cut to the right side of his lean waist close to his pelvic bone.
It was the lone injury he had sustained in the battle and for him, it had been enough. The cut hurt like the devil, and he had managed to bind enough for him to fight. Prodding at it, he winced but felt happy it was starting to scab over.
He had some healing ointment that he could slather over it after his bath, and so happily sunk into the water. Leaning his head on the lip of the copper tub, he sighed — marriage. He always knew that he was going to marry, but the lass was where he had to pause.
I’ve been with lasses since I was six-and-ten, but I have not found a lady among me fellows worthy of marriage.
Lucas laid in the water until sleep began to draw at him and he stood, stepped out and reached for a drying cloth. After stepping into a pair of braies, he went to a trunk, unearthed the tub of salve and dug his fingers into it. He rubbed it over his cut and then, with a sigh, slipped under the sheets of his bed.
It had been a long day and he was ready to sleep like the dead for the next day and a half. Victory had been won over the damned Dunns and he could not be any happier.
Just as he grew comfortable, a hurried knock on the door had him groaning. “What the devil is this now? Havenae I deserved me rest?”
Scowling, Lucas swung his legs out from under the fleece blankets and went to the door, not caring that he was mostly naked. Yanking the bolt back he groused, “What?”
Oliver looked grim, “I’m sorry, me laird, but this is important, nigh worrying.”
“What is it?” Lucas asked through grit teeth.
Stepping inside, Oliver handed him a slip of parchment. “Yer in danger, me laird.”
Someone from Clan Dunn is planning to kidnap and kill ye by dawn. Ye need to run.
“What in the name of the God is going on?” Lucas spat. “Kidnap me?”
“Aye,” Oliver said grimly. “I can only ken of one way around it, me laird. Ye need to beat this blackguard to it and turn the tables on Dunn instead.”
“And how do I do that?” Lucas demanded.
“By taking one of their own,” Oliver grinned. “One they cannot bear to lose—and I ken the perfect one.”
2
“Are ye sure we should be doing this, miss?” Heather asked Maisie as they slipped out of one of the castle’s back doors. “The battle ended only last night. Surely it is nae safe to be wandering about in the woods?”
“Tis only the loch,” Maisie defended her reasoning as she and her maid headed down the hillside to the pool of water. “There are guards all around. We need nae worry.”
The sheep and cattle dotting the lower green hills were a fraction of the Dunn livestock as the bulk of their holdings lay beyond the meager wood and beside the greater part of the loch in the distance. Mist had risen from the waters and now crept up the banks towards the castle.
That morning at an early meal, her father had been even more outraged at the loss and belligerent with any person who dared to speak with him. Maisie, foolishly, had decided to talk to himabout the castle’s defenses and his furious words had cut her deep enough that she had been forced to hasten away from the room, with barely half her meal eaten.
“Faither is outraged that we’ve lost again,” Maisie muttered. “I just daenae ken why he is still engaging in battles with the Dunns when it’s clear they are superior in all manner of war. I asked him why he willnae offer peace instead of continuing this feud, but he tells me I am a woman and me feeble mind cannae ken how much pride has been stripped away from him by these losses.”
“Ah,” Heather mumbled vaguely.
“If ye lost so many times, wouldnae ye decide it’s high time to make peace instead of continuing with these fruitless scrimmages? We gain land and we lose it, they gain sheep and they lose them. What is the point?” Maisie huffed.
The path down to the river was bordered with plenty of trees and foliage that would keep her hidden; they would be safe during her morning swim. As they got to the loch’s edge, she dropped her bag and dismantled. Clad in only her chemise, she waded into the crisp, chilly water.
Maisie continued to grumble about her father stubbornness while doing away with her chemise and bathing. Dipping underthe surface, she emerged with the water dripping down her wet hair and trailing droplets down the supple curve of her spine.
Crouching in the ledge, downwind from the ladies in the loch, Lucas allowed his gaze to trace the maiden. In the shade, her skin looked as soft as spun silk, the soft swells of her lily-white breasts, topped with dusky rose nipples made rosier by the chilly water. Her flat abdomen led to the slender curve of her hips, and her waist—it was even smaller than he had imagined.
