Page 25 of Kidnapped by her Highland Enemy

T he heavy silk, green brocade bliaut dress the Barclay servant-women dressed her in was the finest garment Maisie had ever worn. With the neckline and hem lined with white silk and seed-pearls, the tunic was fit over a white linen underskirt that barely topped her slippers.

“There ye go, me lady,” a woman, Sara nodded. “The gown is lovely on ye.”

“I must agree,” the missed voice of Eilidh said from the doorway, making Maisie spin on her feet. Her eyes landed on Mister Jamieson’s wife, who was still heavily pregnant.

“Eilidh!” Maisie exclaimed, hurrying to her and embracing her tight. “I am so glad ye are here.”

“Me too, Maisie,” Eilidh pulled away to find a chair, her eyes glimmering knowingly. “I had me suspicions about the attachment Lucas had for ye, but I was taken-aback when I heard he was about to marry ye. How had things progressed since ye left the seaside cottage?”

Taking an opposite seat, Maisie recounted her tale from the day they had left to the journey to Stirling Castle, and how she and Lucas’s father had agreed to make peace.

“Grudgingly, I assure ye, but still vowed to make peace with each other,” Maisie smiled. “That was when he announced he intended to marry me.”

“I am glad for ye,” Eilidh replied as she turned her head to the door. “The music has started, and the feast must be beginning as well. I ken it is time we go join them, lass.”

As they got closer to the great hall, the spirited music met their ears.

Entering it, she saw minstrels playing the harp, flute, and the pipes.

The feasters sat at long trestle tables around a central hearth in the wide, cavernous space.

Oil-filled cressets studded the stone walls, casting a gilded light over the furs and tapestries draped over the walls.

Maisie had never attended such a feast in her life. Trenchers of fine foods laid out before her—roast beef, pheasant, and boar were plentiful, along with choices of vegetables, oat cakes, and fruit tarts.

Lucas was at the table, a cup in hand, gazing with fondness at the hall. Her father was there too, sitting at the opposite end of the high table, directly across from Cinead and beside another man with dark thinning hair; Angus, however, did not look so pleased.

As she neared, Lucas spotted her and set his cup aside before standing and holding up a hand—the hall quieted as he descended the stairs, the tails of his great kilt brushing his boots as he came to her side, took her hand, and kissed it.

“Follow me,” he murmured.

He led her to the dais and stopped in the middle, just as Cinead and her father came to stand by them.

“On this eve,” Lucas announced, “Laird Dunn and I pledge to make peace between our clans, and nay only as a symbol of our pact, but more as a sign of love, Lady Maisie Hendry is going to be me wife.”

Lifting her hand he added, “No more bad blood between us!”

A raucous cry went up in the room and Maisie felt her cheeks warm but she held her head high. Lucas led her to a free seat and the feasting began.

“Eat and drink yer fill,” he said while pouring wine into her goblet. “And daenae ye worry about a thing.

The feasting and drinking went on throughout the evening and into the night. Food flowed in an endless stream from the kitchens and a scop, a young lad with an incredible voice, sung of incredible battles before merry music cajoled the people to go dancing.

The rich food and wine made Maisie feel drowsy and she longed for some peace and Lucas’s bed—but the skin on the side of her neck prickled with awareness.

Was someone watching her? Twisting to look around, she did not meet the eyes of anyone, until her gaze landed on the man seated between her father and Lucas.

He only looked curious and after a moment, held up his goblet to her in a salute, and she smiled. She leaned into Lucas, “I’m drowsy and fuller than I have ever been. Shall we retire?”

Lucas nodded then turned to his father to tell him about their departure, just before he stood and helped Maisie out of her seat. Her father did not look pleased, but he refrained from saying a word and Lucas led her out the great hall.

The loudness of the revelers dimmed the higher they climbed and when they entered his chambers, Lucas closed and latched the door behind them. Instead of doing away with his clothes, he pulled Maisie into his hold and held her fast.

“I love ye.”

“Good,” she said, “for I love ye dearly.”

He framed her face within his big warm hand, dipping his lips to hers. He picked her up, flush against his body, and kissed her…a deep devouring kiss. Maisie sensed that he withheld nothing, but infused this kiss with his heart and soul, his entire being.

Tenderly, he disrobed her down to her undergarment and pulled away to do the same, only when they laid on the bed, keeping her tucked into his side.

She could feel the heat of his muscled body through her thin shift.

His breath was warm against her cheek. “Maisie, ye might nay believe me, but I was sure that I would never find love.

At first, I kent all of it, a wife, marriage, everything was unneeded, I truly did, but then, time started to set in.

I realized I had nay one to come home to, nay one to comfort me or talk with me…

and it began to fester, he murmured while smoothing a hand up and down her back.

“Faither tried his best to settle me with someone, but nothin’ felt right with them, and then I found their duplicity, and a part of me gave up,” he told her. “Now, I’ve found ye, and god above, I willnae lose ye, nay for anything.”

What could Maisie say to that ? “I daenae want to lose ye either—” then she sensed something tense about him and propped a hand on his chest to push herself up. “What’s wrong, Lucas? What is botherin’ ye?”

He let out a long breath, “I cannae help but fear that whoever was trying to tear our families apart willnae be happy that we’ve done the opposite and joined as one instead.”

“Ye ken a reprisal is about to come,” she sunk down and placed her ear above his chest. “I wondered about it too. I ken the best we can do is prepare for it.”

“Aye,” Lucas replied, his tone suddenly heavy. “We’ll prepare, all right, it’s the waiting and wonderin’ when the blow might come that irks me.”

She felt it too, and grimaced at the notion that she would be going through the rest sennight—or possibly longer—dearly afraid. “We’ll find a way, I believe it.”

“Oh, we will,” Lucas said. “We will.”

It was not dawn’s light or the morning breeze that woke Maisie; rather it was loud jeering and mocking that drew her out of bed and to the window.

Easing the casement open, she looked down and bit back a gasp; she had not realized that Lucas’s room was directly over the inner court and the men below were armed with weapons.

Instantly, she feared they were under attack until Lucas grabbed a sword from Oliver and another man lifted his.

Spellbound, she watched as Lucas unleashed a barrage of blows that had the man unable to keep up.

With a spin and kick, Lucas’s opponent was flung to the ground and another took his place.

Moving at speeds she could barely follow, Maisie watched with growing appreciation the powerful collision of their swords.

Locked in epic battle, she realized that, first, she had never seen Lucas fight before and moreover, why he and his men had won all the battles against her clansmen—they were unbeatable.

The speed and grace with which Lucas moved was a stark contrast to the raw power in his blows.

The other man, a proven aggressor, was fast but was thwarted at every attempt as he hacked at Lucas.

Lucas, on the other hand, seemed to be toying with him and when the man stumbled backward, Lucas sent him sailing through the air.

Lucas paused to remove his tunic and shirt beneath the morning sun, his flesh glowed a healthy bronze, stretched taut over thick, rangy, well-fed muscle.

Viewing the sprinkling of dark hair over the battle-honed muscles of his chest and abdomen was a wicked indulgence for Maisie and she gazed liberally.

Moving away, she looked around the room for her clothes and noted her packs sitting atop some trunks.

Taking out a simple gray dress, she donned it and went to wash before combing her hair.

Heading downstairs, she aimed to find her father or even Lucas’s, because she needed to tell them about Lucas’s fear—that was, if they did not already know.

Halfway down the corridor, she drew to a stop—she had no inkling where to find the man. Perhaps the great hall? As she moved off, the strange man that had sat with her father at the high table came around the corner. His eyes took on an odd gleam when he saw her but a smile broadened his lips.

“Lady Maisie,” he bowed. “Or should I say, soon-to-be, Lady Barclay?”

She blushed, “Nay yet, Sir…?”

“Laird McKenna, milady,” he nodded. “I’ve been a fast friend of yer sire and Laird Barclay for years while hopin’ their war would cease. Now that it has, I am more than overjoyed.”

“Ah,” Maisie nodded. “It’s been a long while in coming. would ye mind showing me where I can find Lucas’s father?”

“He might be in his meeting room,” Laird McKenna nodded down the hall. “May I ken why ye want to meet with him?”

Maisie hesitated in telling him, but if the man was a friend of both clans—what was the harm?

“Before Lucas met me, well, kidnapped me truly, he had gotten a letter saying that a person from me clan was plannin’ to kill him.

Unknown to me, me faither had gotten a similar letter that he was under threat from someone in the Barclay clan.

Now that we are getting married, Lucas is afraid that the blackguard is still going to act on his word. ”

“I see,” the man nodded. “I wasnae aware of the threats against ye, but ye two are strong clans and ye have some of the best warriors I have ever seen. I’m assured ye will be all right.”