Kidnapped by a Rogue, kindle

by Margaret Mallory

  When she saw Ella a few feet away busily playing with a pile of sticks, Margaret was able to breathe again.

  “She helped me gather moss for our fire, didn’t ye, Ella?” he said. “Now she’s sorting the sticks for me, big to small.”

  Ella looked up from her task and gave the Highlander a serious nod. Margaret was surprised he made such an effort to entertain Ella and succeeded so well.

  “She’s a fine helper, she is,” he said.

  Ella swelled with the compliment. This Highlander certainly knew how to win over her daughter. Though Margaret would not succumb to his charm herself, it warmed her heart to see Ella so content.

  “Shall we make some porridge?” he asked Ella. “’Tis almost noon, but we slept so late we missed our breakfast.”

  We slept? She swallowed hard when she looked down and saw a long dent on the other half of the blanket. Good heavens, the Highlander had slept right beside her. And there were more nights ahead. She really had not thought this through when she decided to escape with him.

  Before she could recover from that revelation, Ella started to run past her. She caught her for a moment and gave her a hug, a sweet reminder that Ella was worth the risks she was taking.

  A short time later, the Highlander and Ella were side by side before the fire, in deep contemplation of the bubbling oats.

  “Would ye say ’tis ready?” he asked.

  Ella answered by holding out her bowl.

  “Careful. ’Tis hot,” he warned as he gave her a scoop, then he scooped up another bowlful for Margaret.

  “Thank you.” Margaret felt awkward having him wait on her. She was accustomed to being the one who took care of others, and she did not know any men, other than servants, who cooked.

  When Ella got up to chase after a butterfly, Margaret decided to use the opportunity to learn more about this Highlander who, at least for a short while, held their fate in his hands. Men always enjoyed talking about themselves, so it should not be difficult.

  “I don’t know your name,” she said, thinking his clan name would give her a clue as to who he was and where he was taking her.

  “Finlay,” he said. “Most people call me Finn.”

  So much for that. She would have to try another tack.

  “Ye seem like a good man, Finn,” she began, hoping flattery would help.

  “Do I?” he asked with a gleam in his eye. “Women don’t usually tell me how good I am until after we’ve been to bed.”

  She refrained from rolling her eyes. “What I mean is that ye don’t seem the sort to kidnap women, and ye made it clear ye didn’t want to. So why are you doing this?”

  “’Tis a long tale, but it comes down to this,” he said. “I agreed to kidnap ye in exchange for lands of my own.”

  She was surprised he did not gild his answer in a pretense of duty to his clan or some other high-minded justification. That saved her from having to gently probe until he revealed his true reason.

  “So,” he said, giving her a devilish grin that made her stomach do a strange flip, “don’t go mistaking me for a good man.”

  At least he was honest about it, which was better than most men.

  “Ye make a fine porridge,” she said, as she scraped the last of it from her bowl. “You’re a man of many talents.”

  He gave her that grin again and waggled his eyebrows.

  “I know,” she said before he could speak, “most women tell ye that after you’ve spent the night together.”

  She did not know what made her say that out loud. William never took teasing well, but the Highlander responded by throwing his head back and laughing.

  “Well, lass,” he said, “we did sleep together.”

  Her cheeks went hot. She thought again of that dent in the blanket beside her and wondered how many more nights they would share that blanket. What would she do if he tried to seduce her? While she was contemplating that prospect, he took her bowl from her.

  “I can clean up,” she said, and started to get up.

  “Even after I kidnapped you and your daughter, ye cannot help being polite, can ye?” He gave her an amused smile. “Well, we kidnappers have our rules of courtesy as well, and I’ll not put ye to work.”

  With quick efficiency, he washed their bowls in the stream and then returned to sit beside her.

  “You’re good with Ella,” Margaret said as she watched the small girl try and miss catching the butterfly again. “Have ye children of your own?”

  “Ach, no!” He gave a dry laugh. “At least I’ve succeeded in avoiding that.”

  “But ye must want children one day,” she said.

  “Nay.”

  She was taken aback by the certainty of his tone. The men she knew considered it their duty to sire heirs and took pride in the number of their offspring as a reflection of their manhood.

  “Why not?” she asked, turning to look at him. The question seemed a bit rude, but she was curious.

  “I might turn out to be a father like my own,” he said. “I wouldn’t do that to a child.”

  “What is your father like?” she asked.

  “Drunk and miserable,” he said with a laugh.

  “Ye need not be like him.”

  “Alas, I fear I would, as a bairn comes with a mother,” he said. “The bairn would bind me to her. As a wife, even.” He actually shuddered.

  “Would that be so terrible?” She couldn’t help smiling.

  “Aye, it would,” he said. “A wife would be like an anchor around my neck.”

  Her smile died on her lips. His words were too near to what her husband said of her the night he threw her out. Before she could hide her reaction, the Highlander touched her arm. It was a light touch, and yet his hand left a heated imprint on her skin right through her sleeve.

  She shifted her gaze away from him and called to Ella. “Don’t go too far!”

  “What have I done?” he asked.

  “Other than kidnapping me and carrying me off in the middle of the night?”

  Her attempt to divert him with a jest did not succeed, judging by the furrow between his dark brows. Another man would never have looked past her smile. She would have to be more careful with this Highlander.

  She stood up and for the first time really took in her surroundings. In the distance, she could see the sea coast, which made no sense at all.

  “Ye must have taken a wrong turn,” she said. “We’re not on the road north to Stirling.”

  “Nay, we’re not,” he said.

  She recognized the coastline now, and they were not far from Tantallon, the Douglas stronghold. Had he lied to her from the start and intended all along to deliver her to Archie?

  “But ye said ye were taking us to the Highlands,” she said, keeping her voice light with an effort.

  “We’re sailing there,” he said.

  She was relieved he was not taking her to her brothers, but any hope she had of escaping her kidnapper and finding her sister Sybil when they crossed MacKenzie lands were dashed. If they traveled to the Highlands by boat, rather than through the interior, they could end up as far from her sister and MacKenzie lands as when they started.

  “But…why go by sea?” she asked.

  “’Tis faster to reach our destination by boat,” he said.

  She remembered now that in her last letter Sybil had written that her family planned to stay at Eilean Donan Castle in the west until after their new babe was born. The kidnapper was taking her up the east coast to the opposite side of the Highlands.

  “The sooner we get there, the sooner I’ll be done with this miserable task,” the Highlander said, “and the sooner you’ll be returned home.”

  But Margaret had no home with her brothers.

  And she was never returning.

  ###

  Finn could have sworn Lady Margaret was dismayed when he told her they were traveling by sea, though she hid it well. Perhaps she had hoped to escape if they traveled north through Edinburgh and St
irling. Or maybe she suffered from seasickness. God, he hoped not.

  “Who’s Brian?” he asked. “Is that Ella’s father?”

  “Brian is the son of the woman she lived with in the village,” she said. “How do ye know his name?”

  “She was crying for him when she woke up.”

  Lady Margaret looked so stricken that Finn had a bad moment, fearing the lass would start weeping on him.

  “They were verra fond of each other,” she said with only a slight quiver in her voice. “He’s gone to sea.”

  Ella returned then, sat down, and clutched her empty bowl, which he’d left out for her. Ach, she was such a quiet, wee thing. From the way she dove into the first bowl as if the porridge was the best meal she’d had in a long while, he thought she might still be hungry.

  “More?” he asked her.

  Ella held her bowl out tentatively, as if she did not expect him to give her the second helping. It was not his business, but it seemed to him that Lady Margaret had made a verra poor choice in the woman she’d left Ella with in the village. Besides being thin and dressed in rags, the bairn was too quiet.

  He was surprised he did not mind the wee bairn’s company at all. In truth, she was a welcome distraction from Lady Margaret. The damned woman sparked his curiosity. He wondered if there was a hot, passionate woman beneath her calm exterior—and the devil in him was tempted to find out.

  Sailing to the Highlands had another advantage—on an open ship, he’d never be alone with her.

  “Time for us to find a boat sailing north,” he said once Ella had finished. “The sailors will all be in the tavern next to the harbor.”

  He packed up their things and bridled the horse to lead it down. He was uneasy taking Margaret and Ella into a gathering place for rough, seafaring men who were mostly pirates, but, promise or no, he could not trust Margaret not to run off if he left them.

  He glanced sideways at her as they started down the slope toward the harbor. Despite the servant’s clothing, she would stick out in the tavern like a rose growing in the midst of a pigsty. Besides her pearly-white skin and slender hands that had never scrubbed a pot, she carried herself with a quiet dignity that set her apart.

  Worst of all, the lass was too damned beautiful. If she had half the effect on other men as she did on him, there could be trouble.

  “Some of these men are unsavory,” Finn warned her. “You’ll be safe in the tavern and on the boat so long as the men think you belong to me.”

  “Belong to you?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “I’ll tell them you’re my wife.” He ignored Margaret’s startled expression. “You’ll fit in better as a Maggie, so that’s what I’ll call ye.”

  “All right,” she said without any hesitation.

  “And you, wee one,” he said, picking up Ella, “will be our daughter.”

  “You’ll be her father?” Margaret said. “Does this mean you’re going to be drunk and miserable?”

  He laughed and put his arm around her. Now that they were in sight of the boats and the tavern, he may as well play the part. But he had no business enjoying it.

  He’d misjudged the lass when he saw her at Holyrood Palace and thought she was cold and humorless. Still, Lady Margaret did not seem the sort to engage in a brief and frivolous affair. He was beginning to think that was a shame.

  A damned shame.

  ###

  When they reached the tavern, Margaret took Ella from Finn and ducked under the low threshold behind him. Inside it was dark and noisy and had a foul stench that made her gag.

  “Stay close to me,” Finn ordered and clamped a hand on her elbow. “I’ll make this as quick as I can.”

  Margaret thought he was warning her not to attempt to escape—until her eyes adjusted to the gloom. Men at court made her uncomfortable with their suggestive remarks and attempts to lure her into dark corners, but these men with their hard expressions and scarred faces looked as if they would slash her throat to steal a ring without a twinge of regret.

  “Finn, is that you?” a loud female voice called out.

  A woman with wild, unbound red hair, laughing eyes, and a generous bosom that threatened to spill out of her ill-fitting bodice pushed men aside as she bounded toward them. She threw her arms around Finn and kissed him right on the mouth. And continued kissing him as if intent on sucking the life out of him.

  The woman’s brazen sensuality made Margaret feel painfully prim and uncomfortable in her own skin. Unlike her, this young woman clearly enjoyed her appeal to men. She would be surprised to learn Margaret envied her that.

  Of course, her envy had nothing to do with the particular man the woman had her lips locked on at the moment. After what seemed an unnecessarily long time, Finn removed the woman’s arms from around his neck. Then he nodded toward Margaret as he spoke to the woman.

  The woman shot sour looks at Margaret while she and Finn continued their whispered conversation. Then she called a couple of men over, and they all talked some more.

  “Found a ship sailing in the morning,” Finn said when he returned to Margaret’s side. He paused and peered more closely at her. “I’m sorry if that embarrassed ye. The lass meant no harm.”

  “She appears to know ye rather well,” Margaret said. “Do ye come this way often?”

  “I came here once, two or three years ago,” he said, and took Margaret’s arm.

  “Must have been a memorable visit,” Margaret murmured beneath the noise of the tavern as he led her out.

  “The lass helped me find someone to buy the horse as well,” Finn said as he untied his horse outside the tavern. “He makes his living hauling goods to and from the boats and lives just up the path here behind the tavern.”

  “You’d sell your horse?” Margaret asked.

  “I need the money to pay for our passage,” he said as he rubbed the horse’s forelock. “And he’s not mine.”

  “Whose horse is he?”

  “I don’t know,” he said with a shrug. “I stole him from the palace stables.”

  She laughed despite her shock. After her husband and brothers, who always tried to hide their selfish motives and unsavory acts, his frank admission had a certain charm.

  When they reached the cottage, she counted five children outside, who were either pulling weeds in the small vegetable garden or hanging clothes out to dry. Their father watched them approach with narrowed eyes.

  “Remember, ye promised to give me no trouble,” Finn said in a low voice. “Don’t try to run off on me.”

  Where would she go?

  While Finn and the man haggled over the price, the children stopped working and came over to greet Margaret and Ella and pat the horse. The contrast between these happy, boisterous children and Ella, who cautiously peeked out at them from behind Margaret’s skirts, worried her. Fortunately, the men did not take long to conclude their deal for the horse.

  “Be good to him,” Finn said and rubbed the horse’s ears.

  Once they were on their way and out of earshot, Margaret said, “Ye do know that horse was worth far more than what ye sold him for.”

  “Aye, but the man could not pay what the horse is worth without taking food out of the mouths of his children,” he said. “As it was all gain to me and enough for our passage, it was a good bargain for us both.”

  While the two men bartered, she had watched the other man closely and was certain he would have paid more, whether he could afford to or not. She was accustomed to men of vast wealth who squeezed their tenants for every farthing with never a thought for how their families would suffer for it. And yet her kidnapper, who did not appear to have an extra penny to his name, had shown kindness toward a stranger out of concern for the man’s children.

  She found herself increasingly at ease with this Highlander, which was a mistake. She reminded herself that, while he appeared to have a soft heart for children, he was also a womanizer, a charmer, a horse thief, and a kidnapper. Such an unpredictable
man just made it more difficult to anticipate the dangers.

  ###

  Finn took another long pull from his flask as he watched Margaret put her sleeping daughter to bed in the basket, leaving the two of them alone in the night before the fire. How in the hell did he get himself in this situation? He had not thought through what it would be like traveling with Lady Margaret Douglas. He shook his head as he recalled the frozen look on her face when they were in the tavern.

  He should never have taken her into the tavern.

  He never should have taken her at all.

  “You should go to sleep as well,” he told her.

  He’d wager she had never slept on the ground in her life before this. No doubt, the maids fluffed her pillows each night. Probably took two maids to comb out her hair and strip her of her fancy gown—ach, he should not think about that.

  When he agreed to this, he thought the widowed Douglas sister would be older. Matronly. Definitely unattractive. It was just his bad luck she was impossibly beautiful. Hell, if she was going to look that good, she ought to at least be difficult. He’d expected his highborn hostage to be complaining, demanding, and generally unpleasant. Ach, was that too much to ask?

  Lady Margaret was trouble, all right. But the wrong kind of trouble.

  He felt her eyes on him as he took another long drink. Without the bairn for distraction, she could not quite hide her unease at being alone with him in the dark. Unease? Hell, she must be scared witless. He was a horse’s arse for not realizing it sooner.

  “Don’t worry, lass, you’re safe from me,” he said. “You’re not my kind of woman.”

  “What is your kind?” she asked after a long silence. “Women like the one in the tavern?”

  “Exactly. I like hot-blooded women who want a good time”—he paused to take another swallow—“and nothing more.”

  Lady Margaret was careful, contained, and highborn to boot. She could not be further from the sort of woman he liked. And yet he wanted her so much his teeth ached.

  CHAPTER 10

  Margaret ought to be relieved she would not have to fight off her captor’s amorous advances. Instead, his lack of interest made her feel wooden inside, as if she was lacking something other women had. William told her so often enough.