Seduced by the Laird (Conquered Brides Series Book 2) (17 page)

Again, she scoffed. “What do ye think happened, my laird? Ye think some nefarious creature has snuck into the abbey and injured me? Ye’d be wrong. Deadly wrong. No one has snuck in. And the injury, ’tis my own fault.”

Her words were odd. Aye, he had a moment’s suspicion but what he was saying to her had more to do with his heart and his need to protect her. “Ye canna push me away.”

“I can, and I must. Your advances are not welcome. Right now.”

She looked over his shoulder, as if expecting someone to be watching them, then shoved his wild bouquet back against his chest.

“I told ye I wasn’t going to let ye go this time,” Gregor said. “And I meant it. I love ye, lass. I’m sorry it took me so long to say it, but I do. With all of my heart. I want ye to be mine. I want to tell ye every moment of every day for the rest of our lives how much I love ye.”

Kirstin let out a deep sigh, the force of which disturbed the ties of his shirt, and might as well have torn into his chest.

“’Tis an argument we’ll have for the rest of our days I’m afraid, until one of us tires of it, or
dies
. Gregor, I am not
free
to be yours.”

She didn’t say she loved him back. But even still, she did not reject him wholeheartedly. And he could see the love and sadness in her expression, had felt it when he’d held her in his arms. He wasn’t going to give up.

A glimmer of hope sparked. Perhaps the biggest obstacle of all was her stubbornness along with the habit she wore. “And if ye were free?”

“If I were free, I would”—she paused, swallowing once more, fear skating over the recesses of her eyes. “If I were free, right now, I would go with ye, Gregor.” She flinched. “But, as I said. I am not. If ye know what is good for ye, then ye’d heed my words.”

Gregor shook his head in confusion, his heart soaring at her words one moment and then plummeting the next. “I dinna understand ye. If ye want to be with me, then let us talk with your abbess. Let us at least try. We failed once already. Let us not live by our past transgressions, but move forward. Forgive each other.”

“Oh, Gregor,” she sighed, tears in her eyes. “I have forgiven ye, and I beg ye to forgive me, too. For everything.”

“Lass, I could never stay angry with ye. The moment I found out ye were alive—”

Kirstin flinched, tears spilling down her cheeks. “When will ye listen? Truly
listen
? Listen to
everything
I have said?”

And then she stumbled backward and the door slammed in his face.

Chapter Eighteen

Kirstin sat on the edge of her cot watching intently as Owen paced back and forth muttering to himself. Clearly, he’d not thought out his plan, or it wasn’t going the way he’d envisioned.

Dressed in dark, leather breeches, a white tunic and a leather vest adorned with iron studs in the shape of a cross on his chest and back, he didn’t look Scottish except for the rabbit and plaid sporran at his hip. His ginger hair was pulled back in a plait secured with a piece of plaid, and his beard looked unruly, unkempt. Clearly the man spent more time plotting than he did praying or taking care of his personal hygiene.

His boots scuffed along the floor as he walked, the sound slowly driving her mad.

It was nearing noon, and there was at least six or seven hours until sundown, which would be the easiest time to escape—using the cover of darkness as his aid. Unless of course, he recalled that Mass was at noon before their mid-day meal. Which… she prayed he’d recall, being that he was a member of the church.

When he started to murmur to himself, and slapped his hand against the wall, Kirstin lost all faith in being able to appeal to him in some way.
Anyway
. The man had clearly lost his mind.

She chewed the inside of her cheek. Her neck stung where he’d pricked her and so did her shin where he’d shoved her into the mattress after slamming the door in Gregor’s face.

He’d not yet raped her, so she supposed she should be thankful for small favors. The fear of him doing so had been real however. She’d fallen forward onto the mattress, vulnerable. And while he’d fleetingly touched her rear, he’d only shoved her down and returned to pacing.

Too scared too move, or to call attention to herself, she’d lain very still for nearly thirty minutes, eyes darting to the door anytime she heard a noise, hoping Donna would not return, else the poor lass become a casualty.

Dear Lord, how was she going to get out of this one?

The bells rang, loud and clear and suddenly Owen ceased his pacing, grabbed her by the elbow and yanked her up. Her skin stung where he gripped her. She looked straight into his eyes, trying to see his intent before his actions, as she jerked away from him, only to find his grip tightening.

“Dinna pull away from me. Ye willna like what I do to ye should ye fight. We will leave now, while everyone is at Mass.” His voice was urgent, eyes wide and frantic.

Kirstin nodded, and rushed, “Ye think the guards at the gate, or Gregor’s men will simply let ye walk out of the abbey with me in tow? Ye’ve not thought this through. Ye need more time to plan.”

Owen cracked a vile smile, and shook his head as though she were too stupid for words. “We aren’t going out the front. Do ye think me an idiot?”

She didn’t answer, for he wouldn’t like to hear her affirm just that.

And what did he mean, not going out the front? That wasn’t good.

He dragged her toward the door.

“Will ye not let me gather a few of my things? ’Tis a long journey back to Skye.”

He yanked her close, his angry face coming within inches of hers. “Nay, else they realize ye’ve gone missing and go looking for ye. As long as your things are here they will believe ye are somewhere within the walls. At least for a short time.”

“And when they see ye’ve gone missing?”

“We’ll be well away by the time they figure it out.” He shook her slightly. “Dinna bank your prayers on anyone coming to your aid.”

The bells continued to toll for noon Mass. Kirstin’s chamber was so far from the cloister that she couldn’t hear the footsteps as the nuns made their way to the chapel, but she could imagine them. Saw their heads bowed, shuffling single file, hands on their rosary beads as they prayed. So many people, just a few dozen yards away, and not one of them realizing she was in danger. No one would come looking for her until after the full hour of Mass.

After Mass, when Donna realized that Kirstin wasn’t in the chapel (since she’d instructed her to sit separately in order to glean more information from gossipmongers), she’d come back to their chamber, but that gave Owen an hour to sneak her out. There was also the fact that even if Donna didn’t see her at Mass, likely she’d assume that Kirstin was with Finn or Gregor or had another stomachache.

There had to be some way to let Donna know she was in danger. How could she leave a message, something, that showed she needed help?

She spied the basket of apples from Gregor. They’d eaten nearly half the offering, but still the fruit shined in its perfection—for she’d arranged the apples just so, while Donna teased her.

An idea, however ridiculous it might have been, sprung to mind.

She jerked harder. “Wait! I’m hungry. Can I at least have an apple to take with me?”

Owen glared at her, so she tried for sweet and innocent.

“Please, it’s only an apple.”

“Fine. Grab one for me, too.” He let go of her and strode toward the window.

Kirstin nodded and rubbed at her sore elbow. As soon as his back was turned, she launched her hand out, grabbing haphazardly at the apples, dropping several onto the floor, but keeping the basket in place.

“Oh, for the love of St. Peter! Pick those up!” Owen said, whipping around from where he stood peering out the window.

Kirstin murmured nonsense in a submitting tone, and grabbed for the apples on the floor, but she let one roll under the table, and another land just near the brazier, hoping that Owen wouldn’t see them. One glance at not one but two apples on the floor in their chamber and Donna, knowing how much any sort of mess bothered Kirstin, would immediately sense something was wrong. She left two apples in the basket.

Giving a sidelong glance at Owen to make certain he wasn’t paying attention, she grabbed the remaining two and held one out to him. He stuffed it in his sporran, distracted more with what was happening outside the tiny window.

“Ye’re not to eat it until we’re outside the walls,” he barked.

Kirstin nodded. Managing to slip another apple from the basket into a compartment sewn to the side of her habit, right alongside her Bible. Now there was only one apple in the basket. Certain to draw Donna’s attention since the lass had a penchant for fruit.

“Now.” Owen grabbed her by the elbow. “Try anything, and I will not hesitate to slit your throat.”

Kirstin nodded, agreeing. “I’ll be silent.”

Owen put his hand to the door handle, then paused. “Ye open it. Look out. Be certain there is no one there.” He poked her sore ribs with his dagger to show he meant what he said.

Already, her ribs had to be covered in tiny bruises from the amount of jabs he’d given her when she’d been speaking to Gregor. Oh, her heart, how she’d wanted to leap into his arms and beg him to run.

“Did ye hear me?” Owen growled.

Kirstin nodded, opening the door with the point of his dagger still stabbing into her ribs. The covered walkway was all clear and she could hear those at Mass singing hymns. The service had begun, which meant that nearly everyone was inside the chapel. She didn’t hear, nor did she see, anyone outside the door.

“’Tis clear,” she said.

Still holding his dagger to her ribs, he yanked her through the door and shut it behind them. She shifted her apple into her other hand so she could get to the one she’d hidden in her habit.

“Be silent,” he warned.

Kirstin nodded, and as he started to drag her, she took the apple from her skirt and gently dropped it, feigning a cough when it lightly thudded on the walkway.

Owen, so distracted with his cause, didn’t seem to notice her dropping the fruit, but he did squeeze her elbow painfully.

“I said be silent, wench.”

“I’m sorry,” Kirstin whispered.

He only glowered, then tugged her down the covered walk in the opposite direction of the cloister. Where was he taking her? She’d never been down this way before, but obviously he’d researched the layout of the abbey before he’d come to steal her missive and abduct her. Or he’d just spent the last two days skulking around enough that he’d figured it out.

They reached the end and rounded the corner. This part of the walkway edged the wall of the abbey like an alleyway. She could see green shrubs at the end, so they had to be near the gardens.

Owen walked in long, purposeful strides, dragging her along behind him. His legs were quite a bit longer than hers, so she had to half-run, half-walk to keep up with him. She prayed she wouldn’t break her neck by tripping on the hem of her skirt.

The way he was bouncing her arm around she was desperately afraid of losing the apple. Already her fingers were trembling at the pain he caused by how tight he held onto her.

“Please,” she whispered. “Ye dinna have to hold me. I willna try to escape.”

“Shut up,” he hissed.

Kirstin did as she was bade, afraid of causing a scene and getting herself gutted. They paused at the end of the corridor and Owen glanced around the garden. Then he was shuffling her through the orchard.

“There is a postern gate,” he muttered. “No one is watching.”

Oh, please let there be a guard at the postern gate.
“How do ye know?”

Again that nasty grin. “Because, I am supposed to be watching.”

Devious. That was how he’d planned on getting her out, by taking charge of their means of escape, with no one the wiser to his plans.

Well, she would leave another clue, even if it cost her the only meal she’d possibly have for awhile. As soon as they reached the gate, Kirstin dropped her apple. Owen glared at her, and as expected did not allow her to pick it up. He yanked a key from inside his sporran and then unlocked the gate. The hinges creaked as he opened it, and he peered out, smiling when he saw no one.

“We’re as good as gone.” And then he was tugging her through the gate and across an open heath toward the wood beyond.

She tripped, nearly breaking her ankle, and he didn’t stop, merely dragged her along until she could get her footing back. She scrambled to remain upright, the muscles of her calves crying out in exertion, her arm wrenching from being hauled like a sack of grain, and her neck sore from where he’d squeezed her earlier.

They breeched the trees, the mid-day sunlight suddenly shuttered by the trees. He dragged her a few dozen yards through the brush until they came up to a horse tethered to a tree, fully saddled and two packed bags strapped near its flanks.

“Ye prepared this.” She was surprised, and her voice showed it. He might have been pacing trying to figure out something, but how to escape with her hadn’t been one of them. What was it he was thinking about?

“Aye.”

Kirstin dug in her heels when he tried to pull her forward. She had to stall. Every chance she got. “When?”

“I’ve been doing a lot of listening the past few days, while I was hiding out.”

“Hiding out?” That made no sense.

“Aye.” He didn’t expand on what he was saying, instead dragged her forward.

She kept her heels dug into the ground, hoping to disturb the earth enough that if anyone ever made it out this far they would see where she’d been taken. “What do ye mean? Tell me, please. I want to understand.”

“Shut up.” He yanked her arms behind her back, pain searing in her shoulders. “Are ye going to make me tie ye up? Gag ye? Because I would love nothing more than to make certain ye couldn’t speak again.”

Kirstin clamped her mouth shut and shook her head.

“Ask me another question and I’ll bind and gag ye.”

Kirstin swallowed hard, her eyes wide as she fought off tears. Didn’t want him to see how much he scared her, affected her. That was what he wanted, wasn’t it? What all predators wanted? To sense their prey’s fear?

Even if it killed her, she would force herself to be calm. She’d left clues for Donna, for Gregor. They’d find her. They would. They had to.

Owen tossed her up onto the horse, her belly hitting the saddle hard, and she let out an, “Oomph,” as she hit the saddle hard, and all the air left her body. She tried to draw in a breath, gagging on the pain in her belly.

He climbed up behind her, and slapped her bottom. She squeezed her eyes closed, and willed herself to be numb to everything that was happening. She needed to save her energy.