Page 10 of Highlander's Captive Bride
Lewis Arbroath yelped in surprise as he found himself held in an iron grip and dragged backwards. A blow from a huge fist sent him flying across the table and crashing to the floor on his back. As the man lay gasping and groaning, Bellamy advanced upon him, dragging him up and punching him again.
He would have punched Lewis Arbroath again, and again, if he had not felt Jamie’s arm on his own, staying his hand.
“I think ye’ve made yer point, M’laird,” Jamie murmured quietly.
Bellamy threw Lewis bodily to the floor, and the man squirmed and groaned in pain, his face covered with his own blood.
“Never speak about me daughter like that again. In fact,” Bellamy added after a short pause, “never speak of her at all.”
He strode out of the chamber then, followed by Jamie, leaving the shocked councilmen to deal with the mess. As he and Jamie passed down the corridor to the great hall, the fury that had filled him moments ago began to drain away.
“What was that all about?” Jamie asked him, giving him a sidelong glance.
“Did ye nae hear? The bastard suggested Elodie isnae worth all this trouble because she was born out of wedlock,” Bellamy growled, his fury gradually giving way to a feeling of despair.
“Did he, now? Well, he’s a damned fool for saying so. He cannae be surprised by yer reaction, then,” Jamie said, shaking his head in disbelief.
“He’s lucky he’s still alive,” Bellamy told him. They had reached the bottom of the left-hand stone stairway. They both stopped, and he said, “So, I have something urgent to do. I have to take the healer to see Elodie. But I’ll talk to ye later, all right?” Ignoring his friend’s look of disappointment, he started up the stairs.
“Have faith!” Jamie called after his retreating figure.
* * *
The second Bellamy closed the door behind him and Daisy heard his boots stomp down the hallway, she wasted no time banging on the door and protesting. She immediately whirled on her heel, casting about the chamber for an escape route. But her search was in vain. There was no exit other than the locked door, and there was a drop of about fifty to sixty feet from the window.
Despondent, she crossed to the bed and sat down, her head in her hands. The enormity of her situation threatened to overwhelm her. In an effort to release some of the tension gathering inside her, she got up and began pacing restlessly. Back and forth she went over the plush Turkey carpet, still in her dusty riding boots, unconscious of time passing as she sought to make some order of the thoughts raging in her mind.
Daisy jumped when she heard footsteps approaching down the hallway. The sound was unmistakable.
He’s back! Now what?
She ceased her pacing and stared expectantly at the door, trying to look dignified. The latch rose, and the door was thrust sharply inwards, revealing the figure of the Laird of Murdoch filling the doorway with its bulk. Lamps had been lighted in the hallway behind him while she had been sitting in the gloom of the dying day. A nimbus of warm, orangey light framed his powerful figure within the threshold.
Daisy breathed in, feeling as if the air had been knocked out of her lungs. Deep within her belly, something stirred, the same thing that had gripped her back in the woods, when, to her eternal shame, she had wanted him to kiss her, just so she could kiss him and see what it felt like!
She crushed the feeling as he strode into the room, keeping her chin up.
“Why did ye lock me up? Ye’re treating me like a prisoner, when I thought we made a deal. I told ye I’ll help the bairn without yer bullying,” she berated him, fueled by her annoyance at the effect he seemed to have on her.
To her surprise, he did not respond, not even to tell her to shut up. He just glanced around the chamber before crossing to the window in a few strides. He slammed shut the window she had not realized she had left open.
Daisy sensed a change in his mood. At times during their journey, he had seemed almost entertained by her arguing with him. Now, his face was stony, his swarthy jaw set.
He’s furious about something.
“What’s the matter? Cat got yer tongue?” she bated him, though she fervently wished to know what had happened to alter his mood.
He returned to face her then, taking her by the arm and pulling her gently out of the door and down the hallway.
“I’m taking ye to see me daughter,” he said as they came to a set of double doors with a pretty, carved frame. There, he stopped, still gripping her arm, but not hard enough to hurt her.
“All right,” she answered as he shouldered open the doors and pulled her inside after him. He shut the doors firmly. Then, he let go of her arm.
* * *
Daisy watched with interest as the Laird crossed the chamber in quick strides to the elaborate poster bed that dominated the room. He stopped at the bedside and looked down at the small figure it contained, its face deathly pale and pinched from pain. A pair of small, white hands reached out to him, while large, dark gray eyes fixed upon his face.
“Da! Ye’re home. Och, I’m so glad,” the little girl cried, her cheeks turning a hectic pink as she tried to lever herself into a sitting position.
