Page 6 of The Highlander’s Hunted Wife (Legacy of Highland Lairds #2)

6

“ S he did what ?” Hector pinched the bridge of his nose, reminding himself not to punch the messenger.

Flynn grimaced. “I thought I’d see the thief for meself, ensure the guards down there were behavin’ themselves. They told me yer grandmaither came by, and the lass isnae so much a prisoner anymore.”

The question had been rhetorical, the recounting of Isla’s actions rankling Hector further. How had his grandmother even known that there was a prisoner in the dungeons?

Bloody gossipmongers…

After this, he would have to seriously consider implementing harsh punishment for those caught wagging their tongues.

Puffing out a frustrated breath, Hector thanked Flynn for the information and headed off at a swift clip. He didn’t quite break into a sprint—he had his dignity to think about—but it was as fast a walk as a person could muster without running.

Thighs burning, he leaped up the last of the steps leading to the floor his grandmother favored, barreling through the door at the top. Huffing and puffing with his lungs straining, he slowed his pace to a determined stride as he saw the two women ahead of him. Outside a bedchamber that no one had any right to enter.

“Who gave ye permission to leave the dungeons?” he barked.

Katie whipped around, her blue eyes wide with alarm.

But his grandmother turned around slowly, putting on a sweet smile. “Is that any way to speak to a guest, Hector? How ye’ve treated her is certainly nay way to treat me new companion.”

Hector came to a halt, his irritation flaring as his grandmother stepped in front of Katie, shielding her. The old woman’s smile faded, becoming a tut and a disappointed shake of her head, as if that would have any effect on him.

“I’ve been tellin’ ye for months now that I need a lass to keep me company,” she insisted, her hands on her hips. “I’m gettin’ older, and I cannae very well keep botherin’ ye to come and aid me—ye’ve got too many things to do. So, when I heard there was a bonny lass in the castle, it was fate smilin’. Someone to help this old goat, and someone to gossip and chatter with, since ye rarely trouble yerself to talk to yer poor grandmaither.”

Ye’ve done this because ye were bored?

He rubbed his temple, feeling like his skull might explode. He was already pouring everything into being the Laird that his clan deserved, but it hardly worked to his benefit when his grandmother refused to be obedient.

“Ye willnae just do as ye please, Grandmaither,” he said coldly. “The lass is me prisoner, nae yer source of amusement. If ye’re bored, read a book or bother one of the maids.”

He moved to grab Katie’s wrist, but his grandmother was faster, shoving the lass into the bedchamber. She stood on the threshold with all the stubborn resolve of a child who had been denied currant buns.

“She has told me of her supposed crime,” Isla said. “I am choosin’ to forgive her and show her mercy, givin’ her a chance to make amends.”

“Are ye suddenly Laird of this clan?”

She sighed. “Nay, but ye ought to be concentratin’ on important matters, nae this. As far as I’m concerned, this lass was doin’ her best to prevent a crime, and the boy who caused this didnae mean any real harm. If ye’d lock her up for that, then ye’re wastin’ guards who would be of greater use elsewhere.”

Hector did not like her logic, as right as it was. But he could not explain in front of Katie that leaving her in the dungeons had been an exercise in prevention, so she would return to her brother and ensure that he never dared to trespass again. Lyall’s relief at seeing his sister returned safely was the key, and Isla had just removed it from the lock.

So, Hector made a last attempt to get his grandmother to see reason.

“Ye’d have a companion who shares blood with a killer, and allowed her brother to ransack me private study?”

Isla shrugged. “In this part of Scotland, we all share blood with a killer of one kind or another. Me own faither was monstrous. As for the latter, she didnae allow it—she tried to intervene. And even if she had allowed it, I’d understand her motivations. Ye cannae reason with someone when their emotions are high. It’s best to let them tire themselves out, lettin’ them realize that it’s useless on their own.”

Katie’s cheeks flushed a charming shade of pink, her chin dipping to her chest. Was it pleasure at being so understood by someone? Was it embarrassment for her behavior and that of her brother? Was it something else?

Hector couldn’t decide as he searched her face, willing her to raise her eyes so he could see the secrets in them. His hand clenched, resisting the urge to grab her chin again, to make her look at him.

His grandmother cleared her throat pointedly, snapping his attention back to her. He had been staring too intently, and, judging by Isla’s curious smile, she had misunderstood his gaze.

“Besides,” she continued, “she told me she is a seamstress, and I am in dire need of new dresses, so the timin’ of her arrival is nothin’ short of perfection.”

Hector’s jaw tightened, his eyes flickering to Katie once more. “If this is what ye want, Grandmaither, then leave us be. There are things—assurances—to be discussed.”

“Ye can do that another day. I was just about to have a bath drawn for—” Isla began, but Hector cut her off with a growl.

“I said, leave us.”

His grandmother blinked, casting an apologetic look back at Katie, before she scurried off down the hallway.

Hector did not like to raise his voice to his grandmother, but sometimes she needed reminding of who sat upon the figurative throne in this castle. A lesson that Katie was about to learn, too, since his first method of education had been thwarted.

Katie didn’t know if she was supposed to come out of the beautiful bedchamber with the extraordinary view, or if Hector expected her to step back out into the hallway for this ‘discussion.’ She split the difference, lingering on the threshold.

“This room isnae for ye,” he muttered, stalking off down the hall to the next door, which opened without a key.

Swallowing her nerves, Katie followed him, and when he strode into the bedchamber, she went after him.

She stared in confusion, certain that he had come into the room, but he was nowhere to be seen.

That was when she heard it—the soft whisper of hinges and the hiss of air as the chamber door closed behind her, sealing her inside that room with him. Perhaps she should have stayed out in the hallway, after all.

“It looks like me grandmaither took a likin’ to ye,” he said in a low, deep voice from somewhere behind her. “How fortunate for ye.”

Katie kept her gaze fixed straight ahead, to where leaded windows revealed the same breathtaking view as the other room. Heather-swathed moorland and dense forests that stretched as far as the eye could see, the distant glint of a loch glittering in the day’s dying light. She felt as if she could see the entire world from up there.

“She’s a lovely lady,” she said stiffly. Then, she added under her breath, “If only her grandson took after her.”

Her face burned as she suddenly felt a change in the air at her back, the pressure of someone filling the empty space, leaving a narrow gap between them. She hadn’t thought he was so close. Indeed, for such a bear of a man, he was surprisingly catfooted.

Hot breath tickled the back of her neck as he whispered, “I’ll pretend ye didnae offend me to me face after all the trouble ye’ve caused me.”

She had to fight against the urge to reply, With respect, M’Laird, I didnae say it to yer face. It wouldn’t help her at all, and though Isla had shown staunch support to her, Hector was the Laird of Clan MacKimmon. He had the final say in what happened to her, whether she liked it or not.

“What I meant was, if only her grandson could be so merciful,” she said, praying he couldn’t hear the tremor in her voice. “Merciful in terms of permittin’ me to make amends by bein’ yer grandmaither’s companion. I have missed bein’ allowed to work hard, M’Laird. I would do anythin’ to be allowed to feed me siblings again, nae frettin’ over how I might do it. Pipkin brings in rabbits and ground birds, but it’s never much.”

“Pipkin? Is that one of yer siblings?” He sounded confused.

She managed a smile. “He’s one of the family, but he’s nae a siblin’. He’s a dog.”

And the only thing that’s prevented anyone from gettin’ too close to the cottage to wreak greater havoc on us.

“Ye have two siblings?” he asked, relieving the pressure of standing so close.

It didn’t last, as he walked around to the front of her, blocking her distraction, making himself the breathtaking view. Her lungs squeezed with nerves, her stomach twisting into knots. It was easier to speak honestly when she did not have to look into those intense gray eyes, her words flowing when she did not have to watch his expression as she spoke.

“I do, M’Laird. A braither and a sister.”

He nodded. “Tell me about them.”

“Lyall is… five-and-ten. Had dreams of bein’ a soldier like his braither. He’s a… sweet lad, really, who would do anythin’ for anyone. He was well-liked and had so many friends that I couldnae begin to name them all, so… it has been an adjustment, findin’ himself so alone these days with just his sisters for company.”

She took a deep breath. “And Bonnie is as wild as she is wonderful. Seven years old, with Pipkin never far from her side unless he’s huntin’ grouse and ptarmigan for dinner. That bein’ said, she’s often with him, carryin’ her bow. As precise an archer as any ye’re likely to meet. She doesnae mind bein’ alone, so it hasnae been so bad for her, but I ken she’s nae the same as she was before. None of us are.”

She peered up at Hector, searching for any sign that she had moved him or conjured even the slightest amount of sympathy. His handsome face remained implacable, like a mask, making her wonder what was going on beneath. Was a warrior Laird like him capable of feeling, or had so many wars plucked out his humanity, making things like sympathy seem like weakness?

“Me grandmaither might think she can skirt around yer punishment,” he said coolly, moving a half step closer. “But she has nay real say in this castle.”

Katie bowed her head. “I understand, M’Laird.”

“I’ve decided what yer punishment will be.”

She braced for the worst.

“I mentioned it earlier. It seems the most fittin’.” He hooked his fingers beneath her chin, tilting her head up. “Since yer braither took me sister’s life, I’ll do the same.”

Her throat bobbed, her eyes welling with tears that would serve no purpose. “If ye’re goin’ to kill me, please make it quick. And please, dinnae go after me siblings. Kill me and let them be.”

“Kill ye?” He rolled his tongue across his lower lip. “Nay, lass. I mean to take yer life, aye, but only for three months.”

A soft gasp slipped past her lips. “I… dinnae understand, M’Laird.”

“For three months, ye’ll work diligently as companion and seamstress for me grandmaither. Whatever she demands, ye’ll do,” he replied, caressing the underside of her chin as he drew his hand back. “But ye’ll nae set foot outside this castle in those three months. Nae for any reason. Ye willnae even tread in the gardens unless me grandmaither is with ye.”

Katie staggered backward, horror ricocheting through her chest as she stared at him. “I cannae do that, M’Laird! Me siblings—how am I supposed to care for them if I’m here? Bein’ in yer dungeons or one of yer guest chambers for a night is one thing, but… three months? Nay, M’Laird! Nae even ye can be that cruel.”

His hand slid underneath her belt, holding her there, forbidding her from moving backward or forward, anywhere other than where he wanted her to be. One firm tug brought her closer, reducing the gap between them until it didn’t exist.

Her breaths came in shallow pants that he must have felt against his torso, the heaving of her anger and her fear and her dismay. She wondered if he could feel her heart too, pounding so hard that she feared for the integrity of her ribs. And the integrity of her mind, for it was not just outrage that had her breathing so hard.

She, too, could feel him. The sculpted muscles scarcely hidden beneath his shirt, the heat radiating from his skin, the control he had over her with just one hand on her belt.

He bent his head, his teeth grazing his lower lip. Her breath halted altogether as his mouth came within half an inch of her own, her heart thundering as his lips moved away, teasing along her jaw and up to her cheek, drifting toward her ear. Not touching, never touching, but tickling with the possibility of something she couldn’t possibly want. That would have been madness.

“Och, lass, ye have nay idea how cruel I can be,” he said silkily, close to her ear.

He was so close, overwhelming her, robbing her of her ability to speak. But, somehow, she managed to push out the words, “Please, M’Laird. If ye were able to save yer sister, would ye nae have done anythin’ in yer power to do so?” She risked touching him, pressing her palm to his heart—if he had one. “I cannae leave them alone… they willnae survive. Dinnae take all our lives, I implore ye.”

He glanced down at her hand on his chest, his gaze hardening as he met her eyes again. “Three months, lass.” He furrowed his brow, his hand tightening on her belt, pulling her flush against him for a moment. “Yer siblings may visit, but ye cannae leave. If ye try, ye ken well enough that I’ll catch ye.”

He released her so suddenly that she had to shuffle her feet to maintain her balance, the air leaving her lungs with a sudden rush. He didn’t look at her again as he walked past, and though she waited for the slam of the door, it didn’t come. Instead, he closed it gently behind him, the quiet click of it almost more damning than a shuddering boom.

A warning that, despite the lack of bars, she was still a prisoner.

We’ll see about that…