Kilty Pleasures (Clash of the Tartans Book 3)

by Anna Markland

  The man slowly drew a knife from his belt.

  She began the slow swirl of the sling above her head.

  “Put down the weapon, Kyla. I’ll easily dodge your missile, and then I’ll gouge out young Lily’s eyes as your punishment.”

  “Who is he?” the bairn whimpered.

  Kyla lowered the sling as ice flooded her veins. “’Tis Corbin Lochwood, back from the dead.”

  *

  The incoming tide was impeding the progress of Broderick’s boat. Frustrated, he urged the oarsmen to pull harder. When he caught sight of Kyla and Lily standing together on the shore, his first reaction was one of relief, but then he saw a man sitting on a nearby boulder.

  Adrian’s gasp confirmed his worst fear. “’Tis my master,” the lad rasped.

  “Hold,” Broderick told the rowers.

  Lochwood got to his feet, stood beside Lily and waved a knife. “If you stay out there, I’ll be forced to cut your sister’s throat in front of your very eyes,” he shouted.

  “Proceed slowly,” Broderick muttered to the crew. “’Tis a brave man who threatens a wee lass,” he shouted back. “Yer quarrel is with me. Let the women go.”

  As his boat neared the shore, the fury contorting Kyla’s beautiful face made his blood boil. Corbin had bound her and Lily together at the wrists with what he suspected was a sling. His sister’s face was ashen, but she was doing her best not to cry.

  “I’ll deal with you when you come ashore—quickly now,” Lochwood replied.

  “We’ll rush him,” one of his crewmen suggested.

  “He’ll kill them if we do,” Adrian replied.

  Broderick suspected the valet was right. To his frustration, he still hadn’t come up with a solution when the boat scraped bottom.

  “Adrian,” Lochwood snarled, “you and the oarsmen stay in the boat. Maxwell, leave your boots and weapons, then get out and move to yonder shallows.”

  There was nothing for it but to obey. Broderick locked eyes with Kyla, hoping she understood the silent message that he didn’t intend to let Lochwood kidnap them.

  Standing knee deep in cold water several feet away from the rowboat, he challenged his enemy. “What now?”

  “Now, Mistress MacKeegan and Mistress Maxwell will get into the boat.”

  Kyla glared at him, but he pushed her. Bound to each other, the lasses struggled not to fall in the reeds.

  Broderick had assumed Lochwood’s revenge would focus on Lily, so why was he abducting Kyla? “Where do ye intend to take them?” he asked as Lochwood climbed into the boat after his captives.

  He sat between Adrian and Kyla and shoved Lily to sit awkwardly in the belly of the boat, though her wrists were still bound. “You won’t need to worry about that,” he crowed with a smirk. “Take off your clothes.”

  Had he misheard? “My clothes?”

  “And toss them over to me. I’m in need of a new wardrobe, as you see.”

  “Ye canna leave him standing here naked,” Kyla protested.

  “I don’t intend to, my dear. Laird Maxwell is going for a swim.”

  The Flaw in the Plan

  Lily sobbed, pressing her face into Kyla’s thigh as her brother began removing his tunic.

  He slowly undressed and tossed each garment into the boat without once taking his eyes off the sniggering Lochwood laird.

  Soon, he stood proudly defiant like Michelangelo’s David.

  Corbin elbowed Kyla in the ribs. “Take a good look. It’s likely not the first time you’ve seen him naked, but it’ll be the last.”

  She made no reply, resolved not be party to his obvious intent to humiliate his enemy. She refused to avert her eyes from Broderick’s nakedness. His body was a magnificent work of art, his bearing noble.

  The tide was turning. If he was forced into the bore rushing into the estuary of the Nith, it was likely he would drown. Yet, he showed no trace of fear.

  She resolved to be equally stoic in the face of the madman’s threats. She would not cry, and would somehow find a way to thwart Lochwood.

  “Go on, then,” Corbin ordered with a wave of his hand. “Off you go. Enjoy your swim. It’s a pity you’ll miss the nuptials.”

  Only Adrian rose to the bait. “Nuptials, my laird?” he asked nervously.

  Corbin pouted, evidently disappointed Broderick hadn’t challenged his taunt. “Your sister will make me a fine wife.”

  Kyla gasped. If this was the plan, why was he abducting her as well? Her blood ran cold as she remembered the unsettling way he’d always ogled her, and the extent of his depravity dawned.

  Broderick frowned only slightly as their eyes locked. He too had realized what Corbin had in mind. Her heart broke as he turned away and waded into the deepening water. She longed to tell him she loved him, but the vengeful lunatic who held their lives in his grasp gave the order to row away from the Nith.

  The grim-faced oarsmen obeyed.

  Kyla took a last look over her shoulder in time to see Broderick disappear beneath the surging waters. Her heart broke.

  *

  Broderick held his breath, trying to calm the fury seething in his gut. If he resurfaced too soon, Corbin might realize the flaw in his diabolic plan. He hadn’t counted on his victim being a strong swimmer. As a youth, Broderick had challenged the Nith’s tidal bore more than once, though never stripped naked. Clothing might actually have proven an impediment to survival, and his anger had chased away the initial chill. All he had to do was keep his body loose and let the tide carry him to Glencape.

  When his lungs were about to explode, he came to the surface, gasping for breath. The rowboat was almost out of sight and Lochwood had his back to the Nith in any case. Only the oarsmen might be able to see him, but waving could cause them to react.

  Treading water, he raked the strands of wet hair off his face and gathered his thoughts. It appeared Corbin was heading for Annan along the coast, probably with the intention of making his way north to Glenkill Tower. His plan was clear. Kill Broderick, marry Lily, and inherit Caerlochnaven.

  But why take Kyla? There could be only one reason, and he didn’t intend to let the monster defile her. He clenched his jaw. If anyone was going to bed Kyla MacKeegan, it was Broderick Maxwell.

  The tidal bore had already carried him a fair distance. All he had to do was conserve his strength and let the sea do the work. He’d need clothing once he got to Glencape, and a horse to get him to Caerlochnaven. Neither should present a problem since he’d still be on Maxwell lands and was known to the folks who dwelt there. They might be a wee bit taken aback to see their laird stripped bare, but…

  It chafed that Kyla’s first sight of him naked had been under such dire circumstances, but he appreciated that she’d refused to avert her gaze. Her courage, and the unmistakable admiration in her eyes, had bolstered his resolve not to give Corbin the satisfaction of appearing cowed.

  Time was of the essence if he was to pursue his enemy with the gunboat before the wretch lay a finger on either of the lasses he loved.

  *

  “Make for Annan,” Corbin snarled, “and put your backs into it.”

  The Maxwell oarsmen nodded grimly and increased their efforts, though they must realize he couldn’t risk leaving them alive once they reached the shore.

  Lily had fallen alarmingly silent, her face still pressed to Kyla’s thigh.

  Adrian clung to the side of the boat, staring into the water. Kyla wondered what occupied the lad’s thoughts. The last time he’d been with Corbin, his laird had deliberately left him to the mercy of a choppy sea. However, he belonged to the Lochwood Clan and had probably been raised to hate Maxwells. There was no reason to suppose he’d help a MacKeegan either. Clan loyalty could be deeply ingrained.

  If she could somehow untie the sling, at least she’d have a weapon.

  She resisted the urge to again look over her shoulder at the Nith. Corbin had turned his attention back to where they were headed several minutes after forcing Broderic
k into the water, apparently satisfied his enemy had drowned.

  She grieved for the loss of such a fine, decent man who’d gone to his death with great dignity. It was a personal bereavement, and Lily would be heartbroken.

  Kyla didn’t know when or how, but she swore a solemn oath that a day of reckoning would come for Corbin Lochwood.

  Predator

  The cold water numbed Broderick’s limbs. His throat was raw, his eyelashes crusted with salt. He feared he’d reached the end of his endurance when strong hands gripped his arms and he was pulled from the river.

  How he’d ever deemed it fun to challenge the Solway’s bore…of course, that was in his youth.

  As he lay in a tight ball, shivering and coughing up water on the shore, one of his rescuers recognized him. “’Tis our laird,” he shouted to the rest.

  Someone brought blankets and, within minutes, he’d managed to walk with assistance to a nearby cottage. While the fishwife plied him with a hearty broth and a wee dram, he recounted the events that had brought him to Glencape. Anger surged through the villagers crammed into the tiny abode, coming to a crescendo of outrage when he told of Lochwood’s plans for Lily.

  Their loyalty, despite his father’s neglect of the clan, touched his heart.

  Half an hour after being fished out of the water, his hair was still damp, but he was clothed and mounted on a borrowed drayhorse. The animal didn’t have Lark’s speed, but he was confident he’d soon be back in Caerlochnaven.

  *

  “Wait,” Corbin shouted, scarcely able to believe his luck. Maxwell’s gunboat lay at anchor off Caerlochnaven, seemingly unattended. “Make for the galley.”

  The rowers glanced over their shoulders, then at Kyla.

  “Do as I say,” he hissed, aggravated they apparently thought they needed her permission.

  They complied with his order and changed course.

  Kyla cringed when he put an arm around her—he’d punish her later for that transgression. “Delicious irony, don’t you think? I’ll need a gunboat when His Majesty names me Warden of the Solway.”

  Surprisingly, it was the Maxwell chit who raised her head and hissed, “Ye’re naught but a murderer.”

  He chuckled. The future held promise. Evidently, he’d be disciplining two females. “Just like your father,” he retorted, yanking her braid.

  He was disappointed she didn’t cry out or avert her malevolent stare, but he’d never been one to back away from a challenge.

  “Let her be,” Kyla said softly. “She’s a bairn.”

  It was tempting to tweak the hussy’s nipple, hard, just to remind her who held the power, but they’d come alongside the gunboat. He drew his dagger and sliced through the sling binding the two females together. What a clever idea that had been. “Climb aboard, Captain Kyla. Make the galley ready to sail. Remember my future bride is here with me.”

  She glared at him before complying. He’d an urge to smack her bottom as she heaved herself onto the side of the galley and over the top, but the results of that might prove costly in terms of time wasted.

  He clenched his jaw when he heard male voices. “Who’s aboard?” he shouted, ignoring the scowling rowers.

  “Two men,” Kyla replied without putting in an appearance. He worried what she might be up to, but was confident he still held the advantage. She wouldn’t do anything to endanger Lily.

  If he had to kill the girl, so be it. No great loss. Except, then he’d have no hostage, and…

  Why did every plan seem to have a flaw?

  A crew of two likely wasn’t enough to get the galley to Annan, though he suspected Kyla could manage it all by herself.

  He had to get aboard soon and make sure they weren’t plotting to…what? But if he left the oarsmen in the dinghy…

  He thrust Broderick’s clothing at the rowers. “Climb aboard,” he snarled at them, “then throw down a rope ladder. Adrian, you go too and take Maxwell’s sword with you.”

  Satisfied when the three obeyed quickly, he grasped the lifeline and poked the dagger at Lily. “You first,” he growled.

  *

  Having quickly apprised Nicolson and Delft of the situation while the rowers tossed the rope ladder down to Corbin, Kyla leaned over the side, hoping for an opportunity to free Broderick’s sister. The slicing apart of the sling had foiled one possibility, but there had to be something…

  Her hopes dimmed. A grim-faced Lily was ascending the ladder, but Corbin had plastered his body against hers, the dagger held to her throat, so they climbed as one.

  With Broderick gone, it fell to Kyla to protect Lily and she swore to avenge this physical affront to a young girl’s body. Her own father would have quickly cut the offending male parts off any man who’d abused his daughter thus.

  “Stand back,” Corbin snarled as he lifted Lily onto the deck.

  Once aboard, he wiped his sleeve across his mouth, then grinned as he grabbed Lily by the hair and dragged her to the prow. “Bring the clothes,” he spat at Kyla.

  She gritted her teeth and did as he bade, swallowing the grief welling in her throat. She was tempted to throw Broderick’s garments into the sea rather than allow Corbin to don them, but that would only infuriate him. It was impossible to predict what a madman might do.

  For she had no doubt now that the Lochwood laird wasn’t simply obnoxious. He was a demented predator.

  Folks who lived in the Hebrides dealt with predators every day of their lives—wolves, foxes, eagles…

  The notion brought Aiglon to mind. She never thought she’d wish for an eagle’s help, but the massive bird would make short work of his laird’s murderer.

  Suddenly, Corbin’s wild-eyed gaze fell on Nicolson. “Aren’t you the surly navigator from Skye?”

  “Aye. What of it?”

  Lily grimaced when their tormentor pulled her hair, but didn’t cry out. Kyla longed to tell her how proud she was of her bravery, to reassure her all would be well, though she couldn’t restore the bairn’s beloved brother back to life.

  “You know these waters,” Corbin shouted. “Set a course for Annan.” He turned to Kyla. “She’s not as grand as the birlinn you lost, but she’s all yours, Captain MacKeegan.”

  Stunned Disbelief

  Legs braced, Darroch MacKeegan stood at the prow of the Banamhara as Grig piloted the boat into the choppy waters of the Solway. The two men exchanged a grin. It had been many years since they’d sailed so far south together.

  “Nay so perilous now England and Scotland are one country,” he shouted above the wind flapping in the sail.

  Grig scowled and spat into the spray.

  Darroch hoped his daughter wouldn’t be too angry he’d set out a day after her. The cast on his arm had been a successful ploy, and he was glad to be rid of it. While he had every faith in her abilities, he’d always intended to follow in her wake—just to make sure all was well.

  The sea could be a harsh mistress.

  And he wasn’t certain he fully trusted Corbin Lochwood. While their negotiations had been amicable, there was something about the man…

  Isabel hadn’t liked him at all and had only agreed to sending Kyla off if Darroch followed.

  Naught amiss with bringing two boatloads of cloth south to trade.

  “We should sight Caerlochnaven Castle soon,” he said. “Might be wise to pay our respects to the Warden of the Solway before we proceed to Annan. Ne’er hurts to have more than one alliance, even if ’tis with another Lowland clan, though I doot Corbin Lochwood will be pleased if we strike a trading bargain with Maxwells.”

  Grig laughed and spat again. “Sooner we’re back in the Highlands, the better I’ll like it.”

  *

  Frustrated by the slow pace of his mount, Broderick urged the beast past the castle, intending to forewarn Delft to gather his crew. They’d be setting sail as soon as he was dressed in his own clothes and had procured a sword from the armory.

  He reined to a halt on the shore, fearing he
was having an hallucination. His gunboat had been replaced by the birlinn he’d sunk a few days earlier. And an older man with bright red hair was striding towards him. Hair as red as…

  By the saints! There was little doubt it was Kyla’s father.

  Foreboding quickly replaced his initial elation. MacKeegan wouldn’t be pleased by the dire tidings about his daughter and his birlinn. And where the fyke was his gunboat? Reality punched him in the gut. Of course, Corbin had stolen everything else he held dear, why not the galley?

  The Hebridean chief was exactly as Kyla had described him and certainly didn’t look like a man who would tolerate fools. However, Broderick needed his help. He dismounted and braced for the whirlwind.

  “Is yer laird at home?” MacKeegan asked. “Quickly now. I’ve nay time to waste.”

  Broderick gritted his teeth. It was Corbin’s fault he was dressed like a peasant. “I’m Laird Maxwell,” he replied, offering his hand. “And ye’re Kyla’s father.”

  The Highlander raised an eyebrow. “Ye dinna look like a laird, and how is it ye ken my daughter?”

  I sank her boat.

  Nay, not a good idea to start with that.

  I rescued her. After I sank her birlinn.

  Worse still.

  I failed to protect her and now she’s in the hands of a madman.

  “She taught me how to use a sling. Me and my sister.”

  My brain is waterlogged.

  MacKeegan exchanged a worried glance with one of the crewmen who’d accompanied him. “Ye’re certain ye’re the laird?”

  *

  Darroch listened in stunned disbelief as Broderick Maxwell launched into a breathless account of the evils perpetrated by Corbin Lochwood.

  He at first feared the man had lost his wits, but it soon became evident he was shaking with fury over the abduction of Kyla and his sister.

  Darroch grieved the loss of his beloved Lanmara, but it paled in comparison with the prospect of losing his daughter. Boats could be replaced. He would never recover from Kyla’s death, especially when he’d sent her on this misbegotten errand. If the wretch harmed a hair on her head…