The Laird's Kidnapped Bride

by Mysty McPartland

  Not in the least ashamed, Cameron leaned back in his chair and grinned at her. “Aye, ‘tis most rude of me. Now sit yerself down, lass, and we’ll sup together.” He saw her eyes narrow and her mouth pinch, and he wondered what insults she was about to cut him with now.

  “Have ye nae forgot yer fat whore will be joining us?” She mocked scathingly.

  Cameron coughed so he wouldn’t laugh. “Now, lass, Gwen isna my whore, and though she might have a fulsome figure, she’s nae fat.”

  “Och, and I have nae doubt about all the times ye rutted with her, ye would ken all about her tubby figure. She’s fat as a keg of ale. The maggots must have feasted on yer brain if ye think I would believe she isna yer flabby slut.” It infuriated her that he could lie so easily when the truth was as plain as the nose on his hairy face. But what should she expect? He was, after all, a kidnapper and clearly wasn’t in the least remorseful over his behavior.

  “I havena swived Gwen for several weeks now, lass.” Heaven help him, he was finding it difficult not to laugh. The wee lass was certainly outraged over Gwen, and he liked the idea that she was. He shrugged his shoulders, but he didn’t break eye contact with her and watched her frown over his admission. “And as soon as she has somewhere to go, she will be leaving.” He added and waited for her response.

  Did the moron think she was a fool enough to believe such nonsense? She snorted in disbelief. “Ye’re most assuredly a peabrained idiot if ye believe that. Trust me, yer overweight slattern won’t be in any hurry to leave.”

  To keep himself from guffawing, he caught her hand and tugged her down on the chair beside him. “Now, my wee lass, I promise ye, she will be going.” When her eyes glittered with rage and shot flaming arrows at him, he remembered her warning and bit the inside of his mouth so he wouldn’t laugh.

  “I warned once already, ye stinking miscreant, about calling me wee,” she hissed furiously out between clenched teeth. So help her, if he called her that once more, she would brain him over the head with the nearest large object.

  “Och, forgive me, lass, but since me brain has been eaten awa’ by maggots, I have become quite forgetful.” Thankfully, before she could come back at him with some new insult, the trencher of food was placed in front of them. He turned away from her, but when he heard her start gagging, he swung back and stared at her with a perplexed frown on his brow. “Is something wrong, lass?”

  It was a tremendous effort just trying to keep the contents of her stomach in. She leaned away from him at stared down at the horrifying meal. It wasn’t just his stench that was making her sick. She shot to her feet, but before she could race away, her wrist was grasped. “Let me go,” she sputtered out in desperation. As the bile started to rise up, she placed a hand over her mouth.

  “Nay, sit back down and eat yer food.” Irritated, he wasn’t about to let her flee. There was no excuse for her not to share supper with him.

  In a frenzy, through her hand she muttered, trying not to gag. “I canna, ye dolt head. ‘Tis nae only yer putrid odor and yer smelling like a month-old pisspot that’s curling my insides, but also the sight of the ghastly food making me sick to my stomach.”

  “There is nothing wrong with haggis, and I dinna stink so badly. I doubt, lass, that ye even ken how a month-old pisspot would smell.” Trying not to lose his temper, he tugged her back to her seat. “Ye’re a Highlander, lass, nae some weak-kneed Sassenach. A little sweat and such fine fare canna upset yer constitution.”

  Oh, the stinking heathen! Well, he couldn’t say she didn’t warn him. She removed her hand from her mouth, drew in another foul breath of air and leaning forward, threw up all over the despicable, reeking fiend. That should show the odious, lame-brained idiot. When she raised her head, she was truly satisfied by the astonishment on his face as he stared down at the vomit coating his shirt and kilt. Laughter bubbled up inside her and it was taking every effort not to let it out.

  Stupefied, he stared down at the muck covering him. He couldn’t believe the lass had spewed all over him. He swung his head to glare at her in disbelief and wasn’t in the least surprised to see that she had enjoyed doing it. He shook his head in utter amazement. “Ye’re a wee sly puss.” He let go of her wrist. “Go, go upstairs.”

  Not needing to be told a second time, she once again jumped to her feet and dashed across the hall, ignoring all the astonished faces and worried stares following her. Once she entered her chambers, she wrapped her arms around herself, bent over and laughed herself silly. Every time she pictured the expression on his face, it sent her into fits of more laughter.

  When the wee lass raced away and disappeared, he once more glanced down at the muck coating him. Never in his life had he ever made a woman ill before, and losing the contents of her stomach all over him was unbelievable. He shook his head in disbelief and raising it, caught sight of all the incredulous faces filling the hall. He was about to wave for a maid when Gwen entered the great room, and the seductive sway of her hips didn’t even give a tingle to his bollocks. She gasped when she reached him and noticed the vomit covering him. His lips twitched with amusement.

  “My heavens, what has happened, Cameron? Who would be foolish enough to puke all over ye?”

  “Dinna make a fuss, Gwen. ‘Tis nothing.” He lifted a hand and with a flick of his wrist, sent for a maid. When she arrived, he noticed the wariness in her eyes and let out an irritated sigh. “Have a bath prepared in my room and make it fast.” He could understand her nervousness, because it wasn’t often he lost his temper. When he did, though, they knew to keep out of his way. Not that he ever punished anyone for nothing. He just bellowed and blustered a lot.

  “Would ye like me to help ye bathe, Cameron?”

  He shot her an annoyed glare and ignored the sultry invitation in her eyes. Was the foolish woman ever going to give up? How many times did he have to reject her before she understood that he was no longer interested? It was a damned fact that he was getting mighty sick of her constant attempts to seduce him back into her bed. “Nay, ye ken there will be nae more intimacy between us. Now while I’m waiting to get clean, ye can inform me where ye plan to go and I will make the arrangements.”

  “’Tis only a few hours ago, Cameron, that ye told me I had to depart. I havena had time yet to think of anywhere I can go.” Nor would she. Did he think she would just walk away from all they had shared and the powerful position she now held in his home? Well, if he did, he was a fool, then.

  Perhaps his wee bride was right after all and Gwen didn’t intend to leave. He studied her from beneath his thick lashes and grumbled when he noticed the calculating glint in her eyes and the angry tight line of her lips. So, it was true she was furious their affair had ended and she was now plotting to find a way to remain under his roof. Nae bloody likely! She would only cause mischief and mayhem if she remained. “Well, then, I suggest ye get busy. Ye have till the end of the week, and if ye havena found somewhere by then, I’ll have some of my men take ye to Stirling, or mayhap ye would prefer Inverness. The choice is yer’s, but make it quick, wench.”

  “But Cameron, that’s only three days awa’. How can ye ask me to leave ye after all that we have shared? Please, please, my love, dinna make me go.”

  “’Tis wrong in so many ways for ye to remain, lass. Ye must see that. I am about to take a wife, and out of respect for her, I canna have my former mistress living here as well. And it would be unfair to ye if I let ye stay. Can ye nae see, lass, there isna anything here for ye anymore.” He hoped she would just accept the fact that she could not stay. He couldn’t understand why she was so persistent on clinging onto something that no longer existed.

  Gwen leaned closer so only he could hear what she was about to say. “If ye send me awa’, I will tell everyone ye stole that wee bitch and where they can find her.”

  The furious hissing threat had him bellowing a curse. He reached out and wrapped his fingers tightly around the top of her arm. He ignored her whimper of pain. “Heed
me well, wench. Ye will rue the day ye make threats against me and mine. Well, since ye have, I will just have to keep ye here. Ye will be taken to a spare cottage and closely guarded there until I see fit to let ye go. Ye also willna step in this hall again. I dinna wish to set eyes on ye any more, ye ungrateful, deceiving harridan.” He shoved her away roughly and stood up. “Big John, take the harlot to a vacant hut and keep a verra close watch on her. Make sure she speaks to nae person.”

  With eyes filled with rage, he watched his ex-lover being dragged out of the hall screaming and kicking. As soon as he was wed, he would get rid of her. She would cause trouble when he set her free, but it would be far too late and there wouldn’t be anything anyone could do by then. It was a shame it had to end like this between them, but her jealous threats had sealed her fate. Ignoring everyone in the hall, he went upstairs to wash away the stench. Pisspot indeed! He’d only smelt a little ripe until the foolish wee lass puked all over him. Now he would not only have to bath but change his clothing as well, and he didn’t usually do either until spring, a few months away yet.

  Disgruntled, he entered his chambers and crossing through the saloon, entered the bedroom to see the steaming tub in the corner. He sat down and pulled off his boots. Rising to his feet, he stripped away his now-soiled garments and stepped into the bath. Sitting down, he threw back his head and laughed. Ah, the wee vixen was delightful and certainly entertaining. She was most assuredly going to brighten up not only his life but his home as well. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been so amused or laughed so much. She was like a ray of sunshine and a breath of fresh air together. She would undoubtedly liven things up. Aye, she would set his dour clan on their ears, and he was looking forward to all the changes that would sweep through their lives.

  ***

  Throughout the long night, Lark made her plans, and now, as the noises from downstairs drifted up, it was time to set them into motion. Tossing the covers aside, she slipped off the mattress, her bare feet landing on the cold wooden floor. She shivered, quickly discarding her nightgown and dressing in her borrowed clothing. Finding a brush on the dresser, she combed it through the tangles, and braiding her hair, she tied it with a ribbon. Slipping her feet into her footwear, she returned to the bed. Lord, please, please let this work, she prayed silently as she climbed on the mattress and shifting the mounds of pillows she laid down, then stacked them over her. Carefully, she made certain that every part of her body was covered. Now all she had to do was wait for a maid to discover her missing.

  Heart pounding, her nervousness increased as time slowly ticked by. It might be a foolish plan, but it was the only one she could come up with on short notice. She stiffened at the sound of the key turning in the lock and heard the swish of the door opening. Trying not to breath, she waited anxiously and the distressed cry wasn’t long in coming. “Laird! Laird, come quick.” Hearing the sound of running feet, she knew the maid had gone to fetch the odious, stinking oaf. A few moments later the heavy thud of loud boots raced towards her chamber. She squeezed her eyes shut and silently prayed she would not be discovered.

  “What in the blazes d’ye mean, she’s gone?” Cameron asked the frightened maid as his gaze swept around the room. “’Tis impossible for the wee lass to have escaped. The foolish woman is probably hiding under the bed.” He marched over, bent down, swept up the fur cover and peered beneath. “Hell and damnation, where is the sly wee vixen?” Straightening up, he ruffled the blankets. “She has to be here somewhere,” he grumbled as he thoroughly searched the chamber.

  “She must be a witch, Laird. ‘Tis the only way she could escape.”

  Cameron snorted and watching the maid cross herself, he rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Och, aye, the wee witch pulled a broom from under her skirts and flew out the window. Dinna be daft, lass, she is nae more a witch then ye or I, and the only way she could get out of here is if someone let her out.”

  “Mistress Gwen was very upset when ye tossed her out last eve.”

  A shake of his head dismissed the lasses suggestion. “Nay, ’tis someone else. And Gwen is nae yer mistress and is now banished from the castle anyway. Now come along, lass, we’re wasting valuable time and I’m going to find that little hellion. When I do, she willna get away from me a second time.”

  After the fading, hurried footsteps could no longer be heard, Lark wiggled out from under the pillows. Brushing her loose hair off her face, she giggled. Well that was certainly an insightful conversation. So the stinking, rutting goat had banished his mistress? However, it meant nothing to her. She scoffed at being called a witch. Slipping off the mattress, she tiptoed to the open door and poked her head outside. Seeing the coast was clear, she hurried along the passage until she came to the back stairs. Biting her lip, she wondered if she could chance going down to the kitchen and stealing something to eat. With a shake of her head, she decided against taking such a risk. Spinning away, she rushed back down the hallway and stopped at a set of double doors.

  This might be her only chance to steal some coin, so holding her breath, she turned the handle and, opening the door only a little way, slipped inside. She angled her head to the side and listened for any sound. Hearing nothing, she quickly searched the room. After a few minutes, she arched a brow. Finding the saloon so clean and elegant was certainly a shocker. She harrumphed before she stepped forward and started searching the bureau for some money. Thankfully she found some in the second drawer. There must be at least a hundred pounds, and grinning, she snatched it all up and thrust it in the pocket of her gown. Making sure she had shut the drawer, she spun away and once more her curious gaze traveled over the lovely chamber. Pity she couldn’t stay and enjoy it.

  T’was too dangerous to remain, and making herself move, she was about to walk past the table but stopped when she noticed a large bowl of fruit sitting on its shining surface. Hastily she picked up half a dozen apples before she slipped out the room. Heading down the hallway, she entered the third door from her own bedchamber. If she were lucky enough, no one would check the rooms upstairs and she would go undetected until everyone gave up searching for her. Later tonight, when everyone was sleeping, she would sneak down to the kitchen and pilfer some food. If she could stay hidden for several days, she might be able to slip away without anyone noticing. Placing the fruit on the bed, she sidled over to the window and lifted the curtain, making certain that if anyone glanced up, they wouldn’t see her.

  Chaos abounded below. Everyone was running around the bailey willy-nilly, and the great smelly oaf was standing in the middle of it, issuing orders. She laughed triumphantly until her gaze drifted to the gates, and she noticed they were tightly locked. It would be impossible for her to escape that way, so she carefully studied everything she could see, trying to find a way to leave undetected. Well, she would have days to find it, and she wasn’t about to let anything defeat her now. For hours, she stood gazing out the window. It was only the sound of angry booted footsteps that made her move, and gathering up the food, she searched for somewhere to hide. It wouldn’t hurt to use the same trick as she did last time. Quickly arranging herself under the pillows, she was about to sneeze from all the dust but quickly pinched her nose just as the door flew open.

  Tears burned her eyes while the room was being searched, but thankfully the thick-headed lout didn’t take long. The door slammed shut and she knew he’d left the chamber. She let go of her nose and sneezed softly, only to have her heart stop when the door suddenly flew open again. Oh hell! Fear gripped every inch of her, and it seemed like hours passed before the door was closed once more. She let out her breath but didn’t dare come out of hiding yet. It seemed to take forever before the footsteps finally walked away. Still she remained hidden under the pillows. Time dragged, and eventually taking the chance that it was now safe to leave her hiding place, she slithered from under the mound of pillows.

  She’d always known that being small had its advantages, and she was feeling quite proud of herself
that she’d found the perfect hiding place. Now, though, all she had to do was remain hidden for several days, and hopefully the furor of her disappearance would have died down by then and she could escape undetected. Once she found out where exactly she was, she would find the nearest village and stay at the inn for a few weeks before returning home. With luck, her betrothal to Sir Walter would be over. Moving over to the window, she carefully lifted the curtain and meticulously searched every inch of the area she could see, hoping to find a way out.

  ***

  Cameron just shut the door on the fourth bedchamber when he thought he heard something. Swiftly he shoved the wooden panel open again and scowling, let his eyes study every nook and cranny. Finding nothing, he sighed heavily and closed the door. He was growing frantic when he couldn’t find the wee lass, she had to be here somewhere. There was no way out but by the gates, and they’d been locked up as tight as a virgin. They were sealed, closed as a nun’s twat. He was having every cottage, every building and every inch of the grounds thoroughly combed, and while his men were doing exactly that, he was searching every room, every corner of his home. He strode down the hallway and once more checked her chamber, finding it still empty. He continued to search every bedchamber, even his own. The wee lass had to be somewhere.

  Cursing when he didn’t find her in his own set of rooms, he stroked his beard thoughtfully. Where in hell could the wee minx be? She couldn’t have escaped, it wasn’t possible. Nay, she had to be hiding someplace, and he was going to find her, no matter how long it took. Grumbling about hardheaded, stubborn wenches, he stomped down the hall to check the rest of the castle. He was going to find her if it was the last thing he did. For the rest of the day, he investigated every inch of the keep and hadn’t discovered her whereabouts. The men also failed to find her. He slouched in his chair in the hall and drank down his ale, thumping the mug on the table and calling for more. How could the wee hellion disappear without so much as trace? It was simply impossible! Nay, someone was aiding her and hiding her. He was going to find out who it was, and when he did discover the culprit, he would punish him soundly.