Page 61 of Taming the Scot
Cherish her… Bile rose in her throat at the idea of him touching her. Doing anything to her. This was not what she wanted. Hector would make her his broodmare. This was a nightmare.
He picked at something between his two front teeth. “There is one stipulation that we’ll have to work on.”
“What stipulations?” She frowned.
“Love is a tricky thing, is it no’?” he said, ignoring her question. “I will love that ye helped me, and ye will love that I helped ye. Thus, we will be loving each other. I think it works.”
This was preposterous, what he was suggesting. She had visions of herself lying in bed while he pawed at her, of him locking all the doors so she could never escape. Never, ever, ever would she let that become her fate. “Nay, sir.” Her voice was quiet at first, but standing up for herself, she gathered some steam, and her next words were filled with more conviction. “I do no’ think this works at all. I will no’ be going with ye.”
Hector let out a long-suffering sigh and shook his head at her as if she were a wayward child who’d said she wouldn’t eat her peas and not a grown woman who’d refused him marriage and breeding. “I thought that might be what ye said about it.” He snapped his fingers.
The two criminals who’d attacked her in the alleyway—the very same bastards who had chipped her tooth—came through the doorway, large grins on their faces. The shock made her gasp, and her hand went to her throat. Both men bore the marks of Euan’s handling.
How in Hades had Hector gotten these ruffians to come with him?
“I think ye’ve met my friends before,” Hector was saying, but his words sounded as though they were far away.
The two men smiled at her, the Ts in their beards bending. Bronwen’s gaze snapped back to Hector. Was he somehow involved Prince and The Trojan?
She was too paralyzed by fear to move. The worst of her nightmares seemed to be coming true.
The men took up the space behind Hector, and she tried hard to swallow around the eggs threatening to rise in her throat.
“If ye know what’s good for ye, and for that of the six lasses upstairs, ye’ll come with me willingly,” Hector said, his fingers steepled in front of him as he stared her down.
Bronwen didn’t say a word, stunned into silence. Her mind whirled about what could happen to the Irvine sisters if she didn’t agree to go with Hector. Maybe if they waited for a little longer, somebody would wake up and come into the dining room. Save her. Euan had taken on the two men before; he could do so again. And one of the footmen could pounce on Hector.
But like every morning that she arose early, breakfast was laid out for her with not a servant in sight. Just as she liked it.
“Ye’re hesitating,” Hector mused. “Must say I’m surprised. If ye had no interest in saving your own skin, I thought their lives precious enough for ye.”
Bronwen tossed her head, pretending she didn’t care for the sisters at all. But she was resolved. She’d go with him and then figure out a way to escape. That way, the lying Irvines were safe, at least. They might have deceived her, but that didn’t mean she was going to betray them. “But if what ye said was true, they lied to me.”
“Or they did no’ know.” Giving an inkling that maybe Euan’s sisters were in the dark, Hector pushed back in his chair and stood. Lord, but she’d much rather believe that about them than the opposite. “The time to decide is over. And let’s be honest. I was no’ going to let ye decide anyhow. Get up.”
16
Euan woke with a start, realizing first that he was alone and second, where he was. He smiled into the morning sun, not having slept this late in ages. But the woman he was going to marry, his Bronwen, had been a dream come true. He rolled to the side, reaching for her, his hand sliding over the bare sheet.
She was gone.
Euan frowned, leaned up on his elbow and glanced about the room, expecting to see her lounging in the window seat as he knew she liked to do. However, the room was empty, save for her lingering floral scent. The sheet was not yet cold, though it didn’t completely retain her heat, which meant she couldn’t have been gone longer than an hour.
Climbing from bed, he pulled on his shirt, belted on his kilt and walked barefoot from the chamber down the hall to his room, where he’d prepare for the day. He guessed she’d woken early, as she normally did, and was taking breakfast. Though he would have liked to join her, he understood she had certain habits.
Muffled voices sounded below, and it wasn’t until he’d closed his door that he stiffened, realizing the sound had been that of a female and a male.
But not any male—it was his cousin Hector.
How the bloody hell had he gotten into the manse? The staff would never have allowed him entry, which meant he had to have broken in somehow.
Euan threw his bedroom door back open and raced down the steps in search of the voices. The dining room was empty, evidence of meals having taken place left only by the napkins and soiled plates on opposite sides of the table. Two places.
A string of curses blasted through his brain.
Bloody hell! This was bad. Very bad.
Dear God, Hector better not have done anything to her. Euan raced to the parlor, also finding it empty, and then ran smack into Martin.
