Page 37 of Kidnapped By her Highland Enemy
“It’s still a while until dawn,” she observed while looking to the window. “Can we stay here for a while more?”
“I wish we could but nay,” he said. “We’ll have to get to the King.”
“About that,” Maisie shifted her head on his chest. “I did some reasoning about what ye said, how our families will start a war regardless, and I ken I found a way to stop them for a while, until we find who is behind this sabotage. Let’s send a letter to yer faither and mine telling them that we are going to the King about the letters and I bet ye, they will come to us instead of going to war. We’ll be on neutral ground where we can find out if the King is behind it and where ye can tell him about us, if ye’d like.”
He sat up and looked at her, her advice turning over in his head. She was right—the two men, her father and Lucas’s, would notgive them the chance to embarrass both clan before the crown and would drop any plans of war to chase after them.
“Aye,” he nodded. “It might get us some time to stay the bloodshed.”
“And find out if the King truly behind this,” she added, then her face fell. “If he is nay, then we’ll have to look to our enemies and that frightens me because that will take time and who kens what our faithers will do in the meantime.”
“Me faither will nay go to war on his own accord,” Lucas said. “I am the laird, nae him.”
“But mine is set on trying to win against yers,” she drew her legs up. “He doesnae listen to me and he will launch an attack if he wants.”
Shaking his head, Lucas said, “T’will nay do ye right to borrow trouble yet, lass. Now, we need to focus on the first thing, getting to Cadross and getting an audience with ouresteemed monarch.”The disdain Lucas had for the king was dripping in his voice but he didn’t temper it, he had little respect for the man.
“Let see to that first,” he twisted to look at Maisie. “I’ll call for yer bath and breakfast and then we’ll be on the road again.”
She sat up, taking the sheet with her and leaned in to pin him with her eyes, “Lucas McCormack, promise me here and nowthat even if we cannae be together, or if we daenae find who is making us want to kill each other, ye will do anything in yer power to stop this feud.”
The suggestion—as realistic as it was—that he would never see Maisie or hold her again, soured his stomach. Reaching out, he held her face, “I give ye me word.”
And I hope that I can do much better than a promise. Yer in me life now and I want ye to stay there.
When Lucas left the room, Maisie pressed a hand to her chest, took in a slow breath and exhaled. She was unable to name the emotions surging through her heart; it was not one, there were many twisted and twined together, having no end.
She felt shock, need, desire, and uncertainty, all clamoring for attention inside her desire-muddled brain. But that was not all, when she had looked at Lucas before he’d left, his eyes had been raw with unchecked emotion; affection, lust, trust, care, possessiveness… love.
At first, she shied away from the mere suggestion— it was too early for love, and she had not done anything to cause that emotion from him. Less than a month of knowing each other, and half of that she had been antagonistic to him. But somewhere along the way, they had found common ground and as he had come to understood her, she had done the same with him.
If it were love, it would be in its fledgling state but still pure and pulsing between them. Maisie was humbled by the gentle, unstoppable force of it.
A knock came at her door, much different from Lucas’, and jolted her from her thoughts. “One moment.”
Scrambling for her shift, she put it on and wrapped a small throw around her shoulders then went to answer the door, thinking it was a servant girl ready to show her to the bath—when it was the proprietress herself.
“MissusAndrews,” Sandra said calmly, “May I come in?”
Unable to refuse her, Maisie nodded, and stepped aside for her to enter. The lady took a seat and smiled, “I’ve come to see if ye were all right.”
“Why? Are ye suspectingHectorof harming me?” Maisie asked.
“Nay, nay me dear,” Sandra said. “I never kent that. I had a husband meself so I ken how a man looks at a lady his heart is set upon. Do ye ken the reason I gave ye this room?”
“I do.”
“Good,” Sandra fixed her skirts. “It is nae that a young lass came to me with a man who adores her, it was that a lass came to me dressed in trousers and a tunic that piqued me attention. What are ye running from?”
“If I told ye, ye wouldnae believe me,” Maisie said. “But believe me, we’re nay running from something. Hector and I are fine. We just want to keep our movements as secret as possible.”
“I’ve heard a lot of things in me life, lass,” the lady laughed. “But I’ll let ye ken that I have kent Mister Jamieson for a while now and I’d recognize Laird Barclay a furlong away and I can see yer affection for him. But I’ll take ye at yer word.”
Cheeks flaming, Maisie found herself tongue-tied—nothing truly passed this woman, did it?
“T-thank ye,” she stammered.
Sandra stood, “I have nay business sayin’ this of ye, but I deal with clansmen day after day, drunk clansmen, and liquor has a way of loosening their tongue. That man has been through a heartbreak a time o’ two. Be good to him, lass.”
