Page 31 of Trapped with the Vicious Highlander (Falling for Highland Villains #5)

Conall stared at the young woman sitting bound and confused in the middle of his hall. She appeared to be of medium height, well-endowed with generous curves, dark hair, and deep green eyes that were currently wide with terror. She also looked young and very afraid.

Good. Fear was good. It would keep her from doing anything foolish. Conall didn’t like killing women, but he wouldn’t hesitate to do so if she proved a danger to him and his kin.

“Why are ye here?” he demanded, his words breaking the silence that had fallen after the removal of the soldier’s body.

The girl blinked, still kneeling on the bloodstained floor. “I… dinnae ken. They told me I was bein’ taken to my grandfather, Laird Auchter. They wouldnae tell me aught else. So ye ken about as much as I do, My Laird.”

Her confusion didn’t seem to be feigned.

Conall took a deep breath, then stepped close and drew a knife. The girl flinched but managed to remain still as he cut her bindings.

“Thank ye,” she said, her voice soft.

“I’ll have someone bring ye something,” Conall told her. “What do ye want?”

“Och, I… I dinnae…” She flushed. “My sister would give me a cup of warm milk whenever I was upset.”

Warm milk. It was so childish that he almost laughed. Instead, he motioned for one of the servants standing timidly in the doorway. “Heat some milk for our… guest. Bring it to us when ’tis warm enough.”

The maid nodded and hurried away.

Conall hauled the young woman up by the elbow and guided her to a chair. “Now then, tell me about yer grandfather. Ye said he was Laird Auchter?”

It was difficult not to snarl the name rather than simply speaking it, and Oliver’s face, visible just behind the woman, twisted with disgust at the very sound.

“Aye.”

“An’ ye and yer grandfather are close, are ye nae?”

The expression on her face was all the answer he needed. Anger, hurt, loss, and age-old grief filled her eyes, speaking more eloquently than words ever could.

“I’ve never met him,” she said simply. “This was to be the first time I ever set eyes on him. But the men… well, they brought me here instead, as ye ken.”

“Ye’ve never met him.”

It seemed an odd thing, that Laird Auchter wouldn’t acknowledge his kin. Odder still that Conall had never heard of the man having any children, let alone grandchildren.

Well, there’d been rumors about a daughter, but the lass had disappeared when Conall himself had been no more than a wee bairn. He wasn’t sure she existed at all.

The girl shook her head.

“Laird Auchter never approved of the man my mother married. He was… well, Grandfather didnae approve. He cast my mother and the rest of us out of the clan. He wouldnae even help us when my mother passed away ten years ago, even though my father was already buried by then.”

The words were simple and matter-of-fact, and underneath them, he heard the same emotions that had crossed her face. Part of him, the part that trusted no one other than his brother, whispered that it was a trap, that she was a spy. His instincts, however, suggested that her words were the truth, and she was what she appeared to be—a young woman, very confused, who might be as much a victim of Laird Auchter’s vicious games as he was.

He considered this as he watched her.

“Give me yer name.”

She didn’t hesitate when she spoke. “Brigid Blackwood.”

Blackwood. He knew the name. Every Highland laird did. A vicious and cutthroat pirate who’d pillaged the coast and a short distance inland for years. He’d been quiet since before Conall had claimed the lairdship, and there were rumors that he’d suffered a fatal wound on his last voyage—although Conall did not know if that was true or just one of the many myths and legends that surrounded the man.

There were also rumors that he’d had a carefully hidden family somewhere.

“Ye said Laird Auchter wouldnae help ‘us’. Ye have kin?”

“Three sisters, aye.”

“And yer father’s name?”

She stiffened, her cheeks flushing as she answered. “Magnus Blackwood.”

Conall stifled a smile. He’d been right.

That explains it, then. Auchter wouldnae accept a pirate as a son-in-law, an’ such a notorious one at that. The associated shame would have enraged him. An’ this girl… he sent her to pay a life for a life. Because he doesnae care if she lives or dies. He may even have thought I’d do his dirty work for him.

Unless, of course, she is a spy and he taught her what story to tell, to allay my suspicions.

For one brief moment, he considered simply throwing the girl into the dungeons and sending a message to Laird Auchter saying to either claim his kin or see her dead. But then another, far better idea occurred to him.

His brother had recently wed, and his council, little though they dared oppose him, had begun to make subtle hints about his own unmarried state. None of them would dare to come right out and tell him he should marry—that he should have married some time ago, in fact. They were too afraid of his wrath to be so bold, and especially not so soon after his brother’s death.

But there had been hints and more than one question about whether he intended for his brother to be his formal heir, rather than simply the presumptive inheritor of the lairdship. He’d ignored them at the time, aware that he had no answer to give and willing to let his silence speak for itself.

Now, he had Brigid. If handled right, the lass could be both a leash on Laird Auchter’s harassment of his clan and a knife in the old man’s gut. If he chose to wed her…

Conall rubbed his chin, his mind racing.

If he wed her, the old man would either have to swallow his bile along with his wrath and accept his supposedly ‘shameful’ kin, or he would break the peace and the terms of the exchange. And if he did the latter, he would lose all of his allies, and the rest of the Highlands would rise in wrath against him for the double sin of dishonoring his word and attacking his own kin.

The old man might intend for this to be a trap, to rid himself of an unwanted granddaughter and a rival all at once, but he clearly hadn’t thought his plan through. He hadn’t considered the other way his offer might be interpreted. Conall was almost certain of that.

To have his despised granddaughter be the wife of a rival laird and protection against further transgressions by himself—Conall could scarcely imagine a more perfect revenge.

A maid appeared with the requested glass of warm milk. Conall took it from her when she made to skirt past him to give it directly to Brigid, who was cowering silently in the seat he’d guided her to. He handed the cup to the lass himself and waited until she’d taken a sip or two to calm herself.

“It seems that yer grandfather has done both of us wrong,” he said at last. “I think we should return the favor.”

“How do ye mean?”

“I mean, Miss Blackwood, that the two of us should spite yer grandfather in the easiest way possible—by getting wed.”

A second later, Conall found himself feeling glad he’d waited until she’d swallowed her mouthful of milk before he’d spoken. It would have been hard to maintain his dignity while dripping with the milk that spluttered out of her mouth as she blinked up at him, more confused than ever.

“I… I beg yer pardon?” she said faintly, looking close to tears.

“Marriage.” Conall raised an eyebrow. “Marry me, Miss Blackwood.”

* * *

Brigid stared at the man before her in astonishment. The whole day had been one of confusion and fear, and yet this moment had to top them all. She understood each of the words the Laird had spoken, and yet they still made no sense to her whatsoever. In fact, she was almost certain she must have misheard.

An impatient look crossed Conall’s face. “Just as I said. We should wed. To repay yer grandfather, Laird Auchter, for the harm he’s caused both of us.”

Brigid tried again to make sense of his words, but she was still in the dark.

“I… why would that be vengeance?” she managed, at last. “Did he nae… Is that nae why I’m here?”

The cold, cruel expression that crossed Laird MacKane’s face made her shrink back in her chair and clench her hands around the warm mug she held. Something cold and hard settled into her stomach and refused to budge.

“That… wasnae why?”

“Laird Auchter’s men killed my brother. He sent ye as repayment of that debt. But I suspect he had a different plan in mind.”

He cannae mean… My grandfather didnae love us, nor want us, but he… he wouldnae… Surely he wouldnae?

Her mind shied away from the thought. “But… why would ye marry me?”

“Because I dinnae feel like killin’ ye, and ’tis another way to repay the blood debt.” The Laird shrugged as if this was a perfectly normal conversation to be having with a woman he’d just met.

Brigid sipped her milk and considered her response. Her grandfather had clearly intended for her to pay for whatever he’d done. And refusing… She wanted to refuse, but she remembered the way the soldiers had threatened her sisters. It was possible, even likely, that if she returned home, he would send more soldiers after them. Of course, that was assuming that Laird MacKane would even let her go.

No, she couldn’t risk the possibility of her grandfather going after her sisters again. Not when she’d done so much already to keep them safe.

“I wouldnae object to such an arrangement,” she said carefully, the milk curdling in her stomach at the very thought. “However, I would very much like to discuss the terms afore I agree to anything.”

That was one of the rules Valerie had taught her—don’t agree to any arrangement unless you know the terms and understand them.

Laird MacKane’s expression darkened with impatience. “There are nay terms to discuss. We will wed. I am Laird MacKane, and the rules I make are the ones ye will follow as my wife. The terms of the wedding are that ye will be my wife and bear my children, and stand as guarantee for the peace between our clans. ‘Tis all there is to the matter.”

Again, he spoke matter-of-factly as if he were discussing the weather or his plans for the day. But this was no casual conversation, and what he was suggesting didn’t sound remotely pleasant.

Brigid had never thought to marry at all, let alone tie herself to a man she’d never even heard of until this moment. She had assumed she’d spend her life with her sisters, and she’d been content with that. But now she was faced with the prospect of not only marriage but also of marriage to a man who appeared to terrify everyone who crossed his path.

Brigid had seen the way people responded to Conall. She had watched the servants approach him with wary eyes and cautious steps as if they were afraid he might lash out at any second, like an angry dog that could not be controlled. The maid who’d brought the milk had flinched when he took the mug from her hands. It was clear he was feared, even by his own people.

Laird MacKane was like her father, in other words. Her mother’s words echoed in her mind, and Brigid swallowed hard, masking the motion with another sip of her milk.

Finally, she found her voice.

“What if I choose nae to accept yer terms and refuse to wed ye?” she said, trying her best to sound brave.

The Laird’s expression hardened further; he was not fooled by her bravado for even a second.

“Then I’ll consider ye a spy from Clan Auchter,” he replied, his jaw set. “And I’ll treat ye as I would a spy from any other clan.”

Something in the tone of his voice told her she didn’t want to know how Laird MacKane treated spies that were found on his lands. She had seen how he’d dispatched the soldier who’d brought her here—quickly and apparently without a second thought.

Brigid took another sip of her milk.

Her mother had warned her never to trust anyone who others feared, but it seemed that she had no choice.

She would not, however, give him her heart. That part of the promise, at least, she could keep.

“Then I suppose I will accept yer proposal, My Laird,” she said, speaking as if the words were being dragged out of her against her will. “However, I would like to ken the name of my groom.”

For a moment, she thought she saw a flash of approval, maybe even amusement, in his eyes. Then, it disappeared behind a stony expression.

“My name is Conall Barr. However, in seven days… ye will call me yer husband.”