Page 6 of Kidnapped by her Highland Enemy

L ucas pinned her with his gaze. Normally, the haughty tilt of her chin and the lowering of her delicately curved brows would have encouraged him to ruffle her composure.

But now, there was another look in her eyes, a placid one, and he took it as a good sign.

It meant that her fear had ebbed enough to make room for clear thought.

Instead of readily replying, Lucas allowed his gaze to trail over her.

She was a foot shorter than him, but her bold stance made her look ten feet tall.

He noticed the splatter of freckles on the bridge of her nose, the tiny beauty spot just beneath one eye, her high cheekbones, and plump lips.

She was a beauty and for a moment, he wondered why in the last ten years of the feud between his family and hers, he had not even thought about her.

Her neck grew red as he perused her and despite the heavy, damp wool dress now concealing her form, he remembered how her slender body had felt in his arms.

“Would ye take a walk with me?” he asked.

Her brows darted up. “A walk…with ye? To where?”

“Nay the gallows,” his lips twitched. “Just down to the seaside.”

“Why?” Maisie demanded.

“Whynae?” he asked. “Do ye nae trust a ruthless dog that has nay compassion, care or remorse?”

She notched her head up. “Yer saying that is what ye are then?”

He shook his head, “Forget I asked. I’ll be leaving ye now.”

As soon as he got to the door, she said, “If I agree, will I have yer promise nay to harm me?”

Looking over his shoulder, he saw that her face was red—in what, shame?—and he chuckled, making her face go even warmer. Heat coiled in his chest, leaving behind an odd sensation he did not fully understand. “Aye little lass, I give me word.”

She huffed. “I am far from little.”

Stepping close enough that forced her to crane her head up to him. He smirked. “To me, ye are.”

Her eyes narrowed and fire flashed there. “Are ye going to keep teasing me?”

“I’d like to,” he shrugged. “Yer reactions are humoring. But I do want ye to come with me to the seaside and get ye some fresh air, eh?”

“Very well,” she nodded. “Shall we?”

With a bow, he gestured to the door and then followed her down to the steps, past the front room and out into the open.

Even before they got to the seaside, the bracing breath of the sea air was all around him.

The sound of the waves crashing against the shoreline enlivened his senses, and his step was light.

For several moments, he and Maisie walked in silence, each occupied by their own thoughts, and even if they did speak, their words would have been stolen by the wind and drowned out by the crashing of the sea.

Maisie stood from the banks, the brisk wind fluttering the tails of her dress and hair. She gazed out at the water with a hint of longing on her face, as if she wanted to see the far shores beyond and Lucas began to wonder why that was.

A gust had the hasty knot of her hair unraveling and the wind fluttered long, lustrous hair into the air. Lucas’s fingers twitched by his side with the urge to thread them through the tempting mass.

Lucas found himself on unsure footing— possibly the first in his life—with this lass.

He had known women in the past and had even loved a few of them.

Or so he had thought at the time. But he had never felt so thrown as he did now while he gazed at her.

The honey tones of her eyes that flashed with amber fire stirred something inside him, something deep and long buried.

Still, she spoke not a word, her eyes fixed out on the sea as if searching for something.

“Why do ye stare out at the sea?” Lucas asked gently.

Slowly, Maisie shook her head, “It’s amazing to me eyes. Believe me or nae, I’ve only seen the seas in passing. I’ve never been on a boat, but I have kent about seeing the far shores, seeing other lands an’…”

“And what?” he came to her side and gently nudged her.

Maisie shot him a look before going back to face the waves, “…escaping.”

Her one word had him rocking back on his heels—escaping what ?

Lucas grit his teeth, was there something horrible going on at her home?

Was she under pressure at home? God forbid, was she being abused?

His keen eyes ran over her and he did not see any signs of bruises on her body, nor had she walked with any sort of limp.

What in heaven’s name can she want to escape from ?

“Have ye been across the waters?” she asked.

“I’ve been to the shores of Ireland, and I have, aye, I have touched the shores of France,” he said, watching her face.

Bereft longing stained her face, and he began to fear for the unknown. What was the lass battling that he knew nothing about? “I only want to…see more than what I already ken.”

Somehow, Lucas knew she was telling him a half-truth. Yes, she did want to see other lands, but why so desperately? Coming closer, his arm brushed hers, but he kept his sights on the rolling sea as well. “One day, ye might.”

Clan Barclay

“Laird McKenna is here to see ye, sir,” a guard bowed before Cinead MacCormack.

Seated at a table in his meeting room, Lucas’s father lifted his goblet at the other laird.

McKenna was like a one-finned mackerel swimming between sharks.

The man was as toothless as simpering men came, only adding one thing to Barclays’ wealth—their coal mines.

It was the only reason Cinead suffered the man’s simpering presence.

“Let him in.”

When the laird came in, his dark hair curling around his ruddy skin, and faded great kilt, Cinead acknowledged him with a lift of his glass. “What do I owe yer presence, McKenna?”

He bowed, “Word reached me ears that ye and the Dunns have quite a mystery on yer hands.”

Cinead did not even bother to ask the man how he knew that; McKenna probably did not have anything much to do with his struggling clan but try to eke out his bread from the lands and waters, so gossip reached his ears easily.

“Aye,” Cinead sat his goblet down. “It is so.”

“What do ye ken Laird Barclay is going to do?” McKenna asked.

“If he’s smart, anything,” Cinead scowled, “He is the liar here, I am sure of it. The gall of the dog. How dare he walk into me land, into me house and accuse me of tryin’ to undermine him?”

“Dinnae yer son take his daughter?” McKenna asked. “That sounds like proper cause from him, I’d say.”

Slamming his goblet down, Cinead roared, “Me son did the right thing, to take the lass away while I fetter out the truth. Mark me words, the moment I ken Dunn is lying, his head will be on a pike!”

“Which is yer right,” Laird McKenna nodded sagely. “He shall pay for his crimes. Ye have me full support, Laird Barclay, whatever ye need of me, I’ll be happy to give it.”

Cinead almost laughed. Help—from him? Instead, he lifted his goblet. “Me men can and will take care of this on our own, McKenna. Ye just sit by and watch.”

Staring out at the blue water that stretched as far as the eye could see, Maisie felt confused: why was Lucas being so benign with her? Surely, he had to think that what Heather thought of him were the same ideas running through her mind.

Perhaps nae.

Laird Barclay did not seem as troubled as she were, and the quick looks she stole of him showed a calm, unconcerned face.

How was he so serene when every part of her chest was tied into knots?

She was worried for her father, worried for what more bloodshed would come from her kidnapping, and worried about what Lucas wanted from her.

Even worse, she felt dearly conflicted when it came to Lucas.

She was furious at how he could kidnap her, heartbroken that this feud between the two clans would keep going to infinity and worse, whenever he was near her, a strange static, cracking feeling coasted over her skin.

It happened when she felt his eyes run over her, only that shiver was accompanied by her stomach tightening.

Lucas seemed to be untouchable, and she doubted he felt the same disconcerting emotions she felt. Underneath it all, she was exhaustingly tired and felt the need to take a long nap. She would love to wake up and see this night terror away and done with.

She swayed a little, and suddenly felt a broad hand rest in the small of her back. His hold did not hurt, but neither was it comfortable for her. Maisie felt his touch burn right through her dress, as if his skin were bare on hers.

“Easy there, lass,” he cautioned. “I daenae want ye tumbling into the sea.”

Maisie snapped her head to him and saw the sharp jut of his jaw and what looked like a dark shadow on his cheeks.

His eyes slid to hers and she jerked her head away, those troubling feelings rearing their ugly heads again.

She did not know where they had come from and feared why.

He pulled his hand away and she saw him clench his fingers a few times.

“What do ye reckon yer faither is doing now?” he asked.

“Probably nae even noticing that I am gone,” she muttered under her breath. She cleared her throat, “He’s probably accusing yer faither of every crime committed from the dawn of time.”

A snort left his throat. “Funny thing is, me faither might be doing the same.”

She turned to him. “Will ye please put a stop to this nonsense?” she pleaded. “It makes nay sense to keep this fightin’ when we could be supporting each other. Even if nae that, nay more blood needs to be shed.”

Rubbing his face, Lucas shook his head, “I dinnae ken how that will go over with our men, lass. For years, trumping yer soldiers has been a pivotal part of our training.”

Rolling her eyes, she said, “But squabbling over land, over sheep, over bulls, what is the sense of that? Do we even ken why this feud started in the first place? Did yer ancestor box one of mine’s ears?”

“From what I was told, yer forefather stole something mighty precious from mine, his wife-to-be,” Lucas said, his lips twisting. “I ken that is a good reason for a fight.”