Page 9 of Kidnapped By her Highland Enemy
But, what did Lucas want with her? With Lucas’s words and now Oliver’s, Maisie deducted that there was more to this kidnapping than just a show of power. If they wanted her alive, was it for ransom?
Gold and jewels? Surely the Barclays had enough of that? Was it in exchange for land? That did not make sense either as the Barclays were not afraid to come in and take how many acres of land they wanted. She could not decipher any reason she had been taken and when dusk barely fell, she retired to bed angry, frustrated, and a bit fearful.
What if they are lying? Am I going to die here anyway?
4
With one boot on the wall of his temporary rooms, Lucas tossed a knitted ball into the air as his mind wavered on a few matters. He wondered about what was going on at home and even the mayhem that he was sure was happening in the Dunn’s camp.
Surely, they knew who had taken Maisie by now, and he could only imagine the fury on Laird Dunn’s face, if he got to face his father, Cinead. The two would not come to blows, no matter how hot-headed they both were; no, they would leave that to their men.
Then, his mind landed on Maisie and despite himself, a smirk cracked on his face. God’s bones, that lass had some fire in her. He reflected on the passion in her pretty eyes, the sharpness of her tongue, and the restrained fury he knew she was keeping just right at bay.
The creak of the front doorway had him sitting up and then on his feet. It was past sunset, but not truly night, and he headed to the doorway, knowing that their next guest, Oliver’s wife, had arrived.
Cocking his hip on the doorframe, Lucas folded his hands and grinned as Oliver helped his wife down from the wagon. A third of Oliver’s size, Eilidh was a sliver of his size and his contrast. She was slender with delicate curves, elegant limbs and flawless pale skin, like a nubile water nymph rising from a spring.
She rested her hand on her belly and tipped on her toes as Oliver folded on himself, nearly bending in half to kiss her. It was oddly sweet —not that Lucas would admit it— and he gave the lady a wide smile as she came to him.
Bending, he kissed her hand. “Welcome to our humble abode, me lady.”
“Ah, thank ye,” she said, while tapping his cheek. “Yer still the scoundrel charmer, arenae ye?”
“What gave ye the inkling that I am anything but?” Lucas teased as he stepped away to let her into the room. “Can I get ye anything? Warm milk, water, a new husband?”
She eyed him. “I’ll retain me husband, thank ye, but a glass of milk would be lovely.”
Lucas went off to the squared-off room where they had a small scullery and poured out the milk from a pail into a pot to set over a firepit. Oliver and his wife were talking between themselves, and whistling a tune, Lucas warmed the milk and added a dollop of honey to it before handing the pewter cup to her.
“So,” Eilidh said, her warm voice dulcet and soothing. “Oliver tells me ye took the lasses for their protection as well as yers. Is that right?”
“Aye,” Lucas replied. “But she nor her maid can ken it yet. For now, I’d prefer if they believe it is because of the rivalry we have with their clan.”
“Ah,” she sipped her drink. “Why the deception?”
Lucas sobered, and he grabbed a stool then sat near her. Resting his elbows on his knees, Lucas dropped his hands between them. “A few days ago, we received notice that someone from Clan Dunn was fixin’ to kill me, so we acted first and took one of theirs for leverage.”
“And where are these lasses?” Eilidh asked.
“They’re separated at the moment,” Lucas said while raking a hand through his hair. “I wasnae confident that the two wouldnae come up with some harebrained plan to escape and end up killing themselves.”
“How long do ye ken ye’ll keep them here for?” Eilidh asked while rubbing her hand over her belly. She winced a little and pressed harder. “The bairn is kicking somethin’ fierce. I am getting surer that it’s a lad, Oliver. I’d be gobsmacked if a lassie is that strong.”
“Well, I daenae ken,” Oliver grinned. “Ye are its mother and ye are the strongest woman I’ve seen.”
“Of course she is,” Lucas jibed, “She has to deal with ye.”
“Away with ye,” Oliver shoved Lucas.
Casting a look up the stairs, Lucas wondered what Maisie was doing, if she was awake and worrying, or sound asleep. For a moment, he debated on what to do, but then, excused himself. The two could do with some time to themselves anyhow.
With a stride that took two steps at a time, he mounted the stairs and headed to Maisie’s room. Gently cracking the door, he measured his weight, almost as if he were in a forest hunting skittish deer, and almost silently stepped into the room.
The lass was there, haloed by moonlight with her brown hair, now a dark mass, spread out like fine gossamer across the pillow. He felt the urge to trace his finger down the high-boned planes of her face and across the sensuously curved cheekbones but did not. After a moment, he retreated from the room, gently closing the door behind him.
Why had I done that?
He wanted to tell himself that it was only to make sure the lass had not done anything foolish, but his gut told him it was only that he wanted to see her. Reentering the room with Oliver and his wife, Lucas jerked to a stop as the two abruptly stopped talking.
