Page 60 of Kidnapped By her Highland Enemy
Cinead grated, “What?”
Irritated, he replied, “Like I said, me daughter is gone, where is yer son?”
This time, Cinead went grim, “He should have returned hours ago. Let me find Oliver, if something happened to him, Oliver and his men will find out.”
“I’m coming with ye,” Angus said as he turned to the door.
“Nay, ye deanae,” Cinead waved him away. “I will take care of it.”
Batting his hand away Angus said, “I ken ye are the lord of this house, but Maisie is me daughter, if something has happened to yer son, it might have happened to her too. I willnae sit and twiddle me thumbs while ye put in all the work.”
For once, Cinead met Angus’ gaze and held it. He stuck out his hand. “Truce.”
Finally, Angus shook his hand, “Truce.”
They found Oliver striding to them in the courtyard, his face as grim as they had hoped it would not be. “He’s been taken.”
Cinead faced the men, his tone strong and his words authoritative. “No one leaves this castle from here on, have yer men guard everywhere that leads in and outside this stronghold and then, round up every servant and bring them to the greathall. We’re going to find out who is the traitor in our midst! Do it now!”
The icy bite of ragged stone under her cheek had Maisie cringing and leaning away from it, only to find that she could not go far…or at all. Blinking her eyes open, she found her middle was wrapped with rawhide rope and her feet, stretched out in front of her, was likewise tied.
She was sitting on stone and was tied to a post in a… courtyard? No, it could not be. She looked around and found that she was in a hall? Where was she?
Blinking, she realized something odd, there was a tapestry above her, one with a man slaying a fearsome beast and the Barclay seal on it. Was this another one of Lucas’s family homes then?
A groan had her head snapping to the side and there, she found Lucas similarly bound, but aside from the rope around his middle and tied at his bare ankles, his arms were tied behind the post, and he was wearing a pair of damp trews.
A nasty mottled bruise nearly masked the bloody torn skin on his temple and Maisie began to fear that Lucas was dead. She struggled with her ties, desperate to reach him, but could not, and that pained her more than anything.
“Lucas,” she tried to keep her voice as low but strong. “Lucas, can ye hear me?”
He did not stir, and she tried again, “Lucas?”
The blood on his temple looked dried and she did not see his chest rising at all—now, her heart sunk to the pit of her stomach, convinced that he was dead. Grief welled up inside her, filling her eyes with tears.
“Lucas…” her voice was trembling now. “Please, say somethin’.”
A dry, hateful laugh met her ears and a familiar voice, now tinged with vitriol and disgust said, “Yer wasting yer breath, lass.”
Laird McKenna!
The revelation felt like a slap to her face, hard enough that she reeled back as the Laird, a woman, and two gangly youths came in. The laird knelt, grabbed Lucas’s hair and yanked his head up, looking coldly at a still unconscious Lucas.
“Me men finally dragged ye down from yer lofty position, boy,” he let go of Lucas’s hair and his head flopped back to his chest. “All those years, boastin’ about how unbeatable ye are, how ye were the best warrior in the clan since the last half-century, now, here ye are, at me mercy.”
Maisie barely found her voice, “Is he—is he alive?”
McKenna glanced at her. “For now.”
As he went back to look at Lucas, Maisie asked, “Ye were behind this all? The threats to me clan and Lucas’?”
“Aye,” he laughed. “Truth be told, I never planned that the two of ye would come to any peace much less get married, but even so, it worked better in me favor. Now, I can get ye two just where I need ye.”
Maisie stared at him. “I daenae understand. Ye ate at Cinead’s table, ye stayed in his house, ye celebrated with us and now, ye are willing to kill his son?”
“And ye too,” McKenna replied.
“Why?” Maisie asked. “Were ye nay his friend?”
