Page 38 of Kidnapped By her Highland Enemy
“I ken,” Maisie sighed. “Thank ye. Erm, could ye give me some paper and a pen? I have a letter to write.”
“Of course, lass,” the lady smiled and left the room, leaving Maisie to sit and reel in wonder.
How much more did she need to know about Lucas and his unfortunate loves? A maid dropped off the paper, quill pen and ink, while telling her that her bath was being prepared.
When Lucas came back, to tell her that he alerted Oliver and Ian to ready themselves, she had already written a letter to her father and handed him a sheet. “I’ve done mine, ye need to send off yers before we go.”
Taking the sheet he nodded, “Go and take yer bath, I’ll have it ready then.”
Smiling, Maisie tipped on her toes and kissed him, “Aye.”
That evening, after leaving the inn with both letters sent off, they had crossed over into McDonnell’s lands. Ian was keeping watch, Oliver was asleep, while Maisie rested on Lucas’s chest and watched the fire flicker before them. Lightning bugs danced in the air and a soft night wind whistled through the trees.
She twisted to him. “Lucas, when ye told me ye made mistakes in love, that the ladies were only using ye for a foot in the King’s court… was it that ye loved them?”
A long breath left him, “Aye, Maisie, I did. I’d thought I’d fallen in love with a Fraser lass, only she had another lover on the side. She was going to marry me for the sake of marriage only and have him as her true lover. The next lass was a Grant lady, very spoiled and selfish. She wanted me to herself all the time, while I had me people to look after. She played me for a fool too, seduced me with virginal glances and shy smiles, used her feminine wiles to manipulate me and tried to use jealousy against me.”
Maisie bit her lip. “How?”
“She accused me of nay giving her the attention she wanted, nay loving her as she deserved—and I suppose she was right. She told me about Laird this and English lord something- ‘o – other who had lavished her with attention, given her gifts, all manner of gold and silks and gems.
“I’d gone on a long campaign and came back to the castle only to find—"
“She betrayed you?” Maisie whispered.
Lucas ran a hand over her arm and gave her a tight-lipped nod. “She craved attention more than she needed her next breath, and if I didn’t provide her with it, she found it from others. I found a man in her bed, and instead of making a fuss about it, I sent her away an’ broke the arrangement.”
Hearing Lucas’s pain, the depth of his remorse, had her heart aching for him.
Turning on his lap, Maisie cupped his face in both hands and cradled his chin. She ran her thumbs over his cheeks, feeling the pricks of his incoming beard smart across the pads of her fingertips. “Me heart aches for ye.”
A wry smile slanted his lips moments before she leaned in and kissed, him, a slow, comforting, soothing kiss. If she could not tell him how much she cared for him, she’d show it.
Clan Dunn
Pacing his war room, Angus’s scowl was setting his face into a rigor of hate. He could not believe Barclay’s gall at pretending not to know who had sent that threatening letter. Even worse, the scouts he had sent out to find where those Barclay’s cowardly dogs had taken his daughter, a second time, had still found nothing of use, for over five days.
Glaring out at the birds twittering happily on his balcony, he was outraged that his men kept embarrassing him in front of the damned Barclay clan. Now, with another report of failure concerning the whereabouts of his daughter, Angus was furious and pacing his room, cursing the Barclays’ ancestors from the dawn of time.
“Me laird,” Fergus said from the doorway, causing the laird to spin in place and sneer.
“Ye,” he spat. “I have a mind to banish ye. Why are ye men so incompetent? Why cannae ye find one lass?”
“Me men are still searching for the miss, but this has come for ye.” Fergus said unperturbed while holding out the folded letter. “It came from Chisholm territory.”
Huffing under his breath, Angus snatched the letter, “What does this damn laird want?”
As he opened the letter, his eyes widened at the sign of his daughter’s hand. “This isnae the laird, ye fool, this is Maisie—” and his eyes flew over the words.
Then he read, “Since ye and Lucas have received similar notes about our clans wanting to kill each other, Lucas and I have come to believe that this is a plot to undermine both clans. We believe the King is the only one who will find the truth.Lucas has sent the same letter to his father. We will be at the king’s court soon.”
Even though he was enraged that his daughter was going to the king about this private matter, his blood boiled at the camaraderie he sensed Maisie had with the damn enemy!
“What are yer orders, sir?” Fergus asked. “Shall we go to Chisholm?”
“Nay, ye fool,” Angus snapped. “Prepare for a trip to the king’s court. If she is heading here, we need to be there too. I need to get there, stop her from mortifying me clan, and drag this foolish girl back to her place.”
He wanted to find the girl, mostly to save his face as he could not let his competitors laugh at him. Maisie was trouble herself, always poking her nose at matters that did not concern her and offering opinions that made no sense—but she was his blood.
