Captured by a Laird (7 page)

What had puzzled David about the fellow sneaking through the grass was that he was traveling in the wrong direction. He’d nearly let the old man go.

“The first time?” Lady Alison asked. “I don’t understand.”

“I caught him on his return from Edinburgh,” David said.

“Garrett got through!” Lady Alison said, triumph flashing in her eyes.

“Aye.” He waited for her to realize what that meant, but she had too much faith in her brothers to see the truth.

“If ye have any sense,” she said, “you’ll make your escape before my brothers arrive with all their men.”

“When I caught Garrett,” David said, speaking slowly, “he was carrying a message for you.”

Her violet eyes went wide as David handed her the parchment from the leather pouch at his belt. The seal was broken—he had read it, of course—but it was clearly recognizable. From the way her hand trembled as she took the letter from him, she must have an inkling of what was in it.

He watched her closely as she read it. She drew her delicate brows together, forming a slight crease. Then she drew in a sharp breath, and the color drained from her face.

“Come, sit down,” he said and took her arm.

She showed no awareness of his presence as he guided her back to her chair. Her gaze was unfocused, and she sat down hard. He took the chair opposite, where he could watch her face to gauge her reaction.

“My brothers knew of my plight and did not come,” she said in a whisper. A single tear slid down her cheek.

David prided himself on his steady nerves, but that tear sent panic racing through his veins.
Merciful God
,
don’t let her fall to weeping
.

She should have known not to expect better of the Douglases, being one herself. Perhaps now she would be ready to accept her fate.

“They could have saved me,” she said, her voice so low he could barely hear her. Finally, she raised her gaze from the parchment, and the pain in her beautiful eyes struck him like a fist in the chest.

“It would make no difference, lass, if your brothers had come,” he said, lifting her chin with his finger. “Once I made up my mind to take you and your castle, no one could have saved ye.”

***

Alison was vaguely aware that Wedderburn’s finger was under her chin, but she did not push him away. After the shock of her brothers’ abandonment, it took all her strength just to remain upright.

The words on the parchment still burned across her vision.

Have patience, dear sister, and take heart. Every day, more men join our side, and I am certain we shall soon restore our family to our former glory. Once our success is assured, I will send help at the soonest possible moment.

Until then, hold fast.

Archie

George’s scribbled note across the bottom of the letter hurt her even more than Archie’s callous refusal to come to her aid. George had always been her ally. If Archie showed some initial reluctance, George was supposed to persuade him. Archie listened to him. George
could
have persuaded him.

My darling Allie, be brave. If the worst should happen, do not underestimate the power of a pretty and clever lass to bend a man’s will.

Your most affectionate brother,

George

Her life and the lives of her daughters were at stake, and her brothers advised her to “hold fast” and bat her eyelashes.

She pushed Wedderburn’s finger away and tried to gather herself. Because her brothers were too busy to protect them, she and her daughters had already lost their home. And now this glorified night raider would calculate their worth and demand a ransom. Fortunately, a ransom would not require her brothers to divert their precious warriors.

“My brothers do not place as high a value on me as I thought,” she said, her voice wobbling just a bit. “Nonetheless, they will pay a reasonable ransom. May I ask how much ye intend to demand for us?”

She prayed her brothers would not dither over the cost and leave her at the mercy of the murderous Humes for long.

“I’ll not seek a ransom,” Wedderburn said, his eyes never leaving her face.

“No ransom?” Alison blinked at him. “You’ll simply let us go?”

Hope soared in her heart. This ordeal would soon be over. She would pack at once. What would she be allowed to take with her? Not her jewels, but perhaps a few gowns. Beatrix and Margaret would weep bitterly if they had to leave their ponies. Was there any hope the Beast of Wedderburn would let the girls keep them?

“Nay.” Wedderburn’s deep voice interrupted her thoughts.

For a moment, she thought she must have spoken aloud and he was refusing her request. Her heart sank to her feet as she realized he was saying nay to more than the ponies.

“I cannot let ye go,” he said, his tone as unrelenting as the north wind.

“But why?” she asked. “If you’re not holding us for ransom, what other reason could ye have for…” Her voice trailed off as the only other possibility came to her.

She could not breathe. Nay, this could not be happening to her. Not again.

And yet Wedderburn was looking at her as if he thought he already owned her.

CHAPTER 8

“I’m taking ye for my wife,” David informed her, though he could see that she already understood.

“I will
not
marry you.” She stood and backed away from him with her hands clenched. “I refuse.”

David chastised himself again for his lack of foresight. Since the day of his father and uncle’s execution, he had planned every step that brought him here. Wedding the widow was always a part of his plan—the central piece. And yet he had failed to consider that she might be obstinate about accepting her situation.

Not that it made a damned bit of difference to the outcome, but he should have anticipated this complication.

“I cannot permit ye to refuse,” he said. “The wedding will take place as soon as my brothers arrive.”

“Brothers?” She looked horror-struck. “There are more like you?”

By the saints, David wished he’d refilled his flask with whisky before starting this conversation with her.

“My brothers should be here tomorrow,” he said between his teeth. “That gives ye a full day to accustom yourself to the notion of being my wife.”

“An entire day? How very considerate,” she said, folding her arms. “But I assure ye that a year and a day would not suffice.”

As irritating as he found her tone, he preferred her temper to the despair she had shown earlier. He hoped anger sharpened her wits, as it always did his, so that he could reason with her now.

“As there’s no avoiding this marriage,” he said, “I suggest ye reconcile yourself to it.”

“Reconcile myself to it?” she said, her voice rising. “I’d rather be boiled in oil.”

Now she was truly annoying him.

“Many marriages are made under similar circumstances,” he said after pausing to take a deep breath. “Once ye think it over, you’ll see that this arrangement can benefit us both.”

“Oh?” she said, raising her eyebrows. “What possible benefit could this marriage bring to me?”

“For one thing, you’ll have a better man than Blackadder to warm your bed,” he bit out.

She blushed to her roots. “Don’t be disgusting.”

David was not accustomed to being thwarted—or to being called disgusting. Though he was aware of his appeal to the lasses, he was not vain about it, probably because he never cared much one way or another if a particular one said aye or nay.

Until now.

“Ye cannot make me do this.” She went to the window and turned her back to him. “Please go.”

He considered the two obvious means of persuading her. Both were distasteful, but she was forcing his hand. The first one he discarded immediately. Though he was certain she would crumple if he threatened her daughters, he could not make even a pretense of doing that.

That left him with the second obvious method, which he did not like much better. She jumped when he came up behind her and rested his hands on the wall on either side of her, trapping her with his body. Heat seared through him when he leaned forward and his chest touched her back.

“You’re not the first lady to wed her captor,” he said next to her ear. “How do ye suppose that’s usually accomplished?”

“Ye can stick a blade in my heart,” she said, “but I will not say vows to you.”

“Ah, lass, I fear stabbing ye would thwart my goal.”

“Nothing less will persuade me to wed ye,” she said.

David sighed inwardly. Why did the lass have to be so damned stubborn?

“I don’t need a marriage contract to take ye to bed,” he said, hating himself. “’Tis up to you which we do first.”

“What?” She whirled in his arms. “Are ye threatening to degrade me?”

Despite the fury in her eyes, her closeness made it difficult for him to concentrate. She smelled like heaven, and her breasts were touching his chest.

“What I intend is to make ye my wife.” He made himself say the rest. “If ye don’t agree to it now, ye will once ye carry my babe.”

“Once I…once I…” She made an ineffectual attempt to shove him away. “Oh, you are a vile, vile man!”

“I am,” he agreed. “And one way or another, you shall be this vile man’s wife.”

***

David pondered his next move as he stomped up and down the courtyard, waiting for his brothers’ arrival. Threatening his future wife yesterday had not been his wisest decision. All it had accomplished was to make her more obstinate and make him feel like shite.

What in the hell was holding his brothers up? He wanted to get this wedding over with. He was not as confident as he led Lady Alison to believe that the Douglases would not arrive in force. Her brothers could have sent a false message for him to intercept in the hope of surprising him. And if the Blackadders learned he was here, they would come with every fighting man in their clan to try to thwart his plan.

Once the contract was signed and the marriage consummated, there was not a damned thing the Douglases or the Blackadders could do about it.

Except kill him.

He could not wait another day to bind the lady to him. The risk was too great. But how was he to accomplish it without holding a blade to the stubborn lass’s throat? He was at ease leading men, confident in his skills and judgment. As for women, they’d always come to him with little effort on his part. When one became troublesome, he moved on to another.

None of his experience helped him know how to persuade a lass to become his wife when she did not want to. He’d given the lady a day to calm down, so perhaps she had thought it through and was prepared to accept him. Whether she was or not, the marriage would take place today.

As he paced across the courtyard again, his attention was diverted by a charred patch of earth. Odd, how it burned in the shape of a rectangle. He was about to ask someone what had caused it when the guards shouted that his brothers were nearing the castle.

A short time later, the gate creaked open, and David was relieved to see Robbie and Will ride in with a guard of twenty Hume warriors. He always felt better having his brothers close by where he could watch over them—and he wanted to get this wedding over and done with.

“I’m marrying Blackadder’s widow today,” David told his brothers as soon as they dismounted. “Come, ye shall meet the lady and her daughters before ye change for the wedding.”

His brothers stood in place with their mouths gaping open like baby birds.

“Ye brought your best clothes, as I ordered?” he asked.

“You’re marrying her?” Robbie asked, his eyebrows almost reaching his hairline. “Why?”

“’Tis all part of the plan,” David said, and waved for them to follow him.

“But isn’t she old?” Robbie asked as the two boys trotted beside him across the courtyard. “Ach, I’ll wager she’s ugly as well.”

“If David wants to wed her,” Will said, “she must be verra pretty—and kind, too.”

She
must be kind
? Where in the hell did Will get these notions?

“You’re to be courteous to Lady Alison and her daughters,” he warned his brothers as he charged up the steps. “Don’t behave like ill-bred heathens.”

“We’re not ill-bred heathens,” Robbie said.

“Just pretend your mother is watching,” he said, “and act accordingly.”

David was going to follow his own advice and be goddamned pleasant.

CHAPTER 9

“I hate stitching,” Beatrix said. “Why can’t we leave our chamber?”

“Needlework is an important skill,” Alison said, doing her best to hide her anxiety behind a smile. “And I’ve already told ye that I cannot allow ye to run loose with all the strange men in the castle.”

She was finding it increasingly difficult to divert the girls, and it did not help that she was exhausted after lying awake all night trying to think of a way to escape the castle—and Wedderburn. By dawn, she had come to the conclusion that her only hope was to delay the marriage long enough to be rescued.

“How much longer will the strange men be here?” Beatrix asked, resting a plump cheek on the heel of her hand.

“I don’t know, sweetling,” Alison said. “Not long, I hope.”

Panic closed her throat when she considered just long it could take Archie to settle his dispute with the queen. She forced herself to push the thought aside. She must hold out hope.

At the sound of a knock on the door, she bolted to her feet, sending her needlework tumbling to the floor.

“My brothers have arrived,” Wedderburn’s deep voice came through the door. “I’ve brought them to meet ye.”

Her heart raced as she imagined being encircled by half a dozen warriors in Wedderburn’s image. If she did not unbar the door, which had just been repaired, he would only break it down again. At least he had made a pretense of knocking this time.

After drawing a deep breath, she shoved the bar back and opened the door. She barely had time to step aside before Wedderburn strode into the room.

His physical presence overwhelmed her. Though he was a young man, perhaps in his mid-twenties, he exuded an air of authority that made him seem even larger than he was. And he was a big man, a foot taller than she was, muscular, and broad-shouldered.