Page 14 of Kilted Abduction
Unlocking the door in his mind, Magnus focused on the golden-haired woman. He listened closely, trying to hear her thoughts… but heard nothing. The silence coming from the woman was strange. It was something he had never encountered before. Everybody had stray thoughts running through their minds at all times. It was just part of being human. A person’s mind was never silent. And yet, that was exactly what he was getting from the woman in the green cloak. Nothing. Absolutely nothing but the purest silence he had ever heard.
“What in the bleedin’ hell?” he muttered.
He watched as the woman walked by a table with fruits and breads laid out on it.
Her appearance as well as her nimble, dexterous movements intrigued him. It made Magnus think that luck had finally landed on his side, and he’d found the needle in the haystack. Until he had something more definitive though, he opted to not make a move on her just in case he was wrong. With every stepthough, he was increasingly certain he had found her. He had found the spy. Which meant the rest of the story was true too.
While excited to have uncovered the traitor, Magnus found himself concerned about the potential for a fight coming their way they were not prepared for.
“Who are ye?” he whispered to himself. “And what dae ye want?”
CHAPTER SEVEN
As Ciara scanned the crowd beyond her little station at the periphery, she thought back to seeing the large man she’d locked eyes with earlier. His eyes were the first thing she noticed. They’d been so blue, they were almost silver and were piercing. Probing. When his gaze had fallen upon her, Ciara had felt like he was seeing through her. Like he could discern her thoughts with nothing more than his smoldering and intense stare.
The man was tall and lean, with a look of athleticism and agility, and had wavy hair the color of coal that framed a strong jawline and face with high cheekbones and sharp features. He looked like a man who could handle himself well. There was a slightly dangerous edge to him and Ciara thought he was not a man to be trifled with. She had instantly feared him.
When their gazes had locked, Ciara had had the unsettling feeling that he recognized her. She couldn’t say why, he was a complete stranger to her, but there was something in his eyes that made him seem almost as if he’d been waiting for her. It hadobviously sent a wave of near panic through her. She feared he had been sent by her father or Lord Fairfax to drag her back to the shackles of a marriage she did not want.
But he had not come for her and allowed her to continue on her way. Ciara thought she’d seen him in the crowd following her, but whenever she turned to confront him, he hadn’t been there, leading her to believe she was letting paranoia affect her mind. Not that she didn’t have a multitude of reasons to feel paranoid.
At that point, Ciara wanted nothing more than to take a hot bath, have a good meal, then lie down in an actual bed. Life on the road to Seabridge had been difficult. She was not used to sleeping rough and not having food brought to her whenever she desired. She didn’t consider herself pampered, but she was forced to acknowledge, if only to herself, there were certain perks to being a laird’s daughter.
As she weaved through the crowd, the hair on the back of Ciara’s neck stood on end and her skin broke out in gooseflesh. A heaviness settled over her and set a flutter through her heart. She knew instantly that she was being observed. As she moved through the crowd, Ciara stole a glance over her shoulder and saw the man with the icy blue eyes moving among the throng of people behind her. The flutter in her heart turned into a hard, steady pounding and her stomach clenched so tight it was almost painful. She knew then she wasn’t being paranoid.
“Bleedin’ hell,” she whispered to herself.
Being small and fast of foot, Ciara had the advantage as she darted around the bigger bodies of the men all around her. She knew there was no way the large man behind her would be able to track and follow her through the mass of bodies. It was one of the few times in her life she was grateful for her small stature. When she thought she’d lost her pursuer, she ducked behind the booth of a vendor selling mugs of ale and peered around the corner. She’d lost him.
Not seeing him though, made Ciara wonder yet again if she was simply jumping at shadows and seeing things that weren’t there. She was already tense, and her emotions were heightened. Had she simply seen somebody who resembled the man she’d locked eyes with earlier and let her imagination fill in the blanks? Had anybody been following her at all? Or had the fear that her father and Fairfax would send somebody for her make Ciara view every stranger as a threat? Home was many, many miles to the south. How would they even know she was in Seabridge?
Feeling slightly better, though still a bit wary, Ciara found her way to the other side of the pond where Isobel had indicated the archery contest was being held. A man stood behind a table, providing commentary on the contest while also encouraging others to join in. Ciara stepped to the table.
“How much to play?” she asked.
A slow smirk curled the corner of his mouth. “Are ye sure want to risk the three coppers?”
All around her, she heard men snickering at her. Ciara’s cheeks flushed as the blood in her veins heated with anger. All her life she had been underestimated and she had grown tired of it a long time ago. She fished the three coppers out of her purse and silently lamented the dwindling rattle of coins left inside. But she believed in herself—and she needed the money.
The coins clinked as she threw them into the small box on the table. “Aye. I’m sure.”
“Very well, lassie,” he said. “Come on around and get ready.”
Ciara took a position at the end of one of the lanes that had been set up. At the other end of it, maybe thirty yards away, stood a stack of hay bales with the outline of a man painted upon it. Behind her, she heard more men chuckling and the clink and rattle of more coins thrown into the box as the men lined up to take her on. As the men took their positions at the head of their lanes, she noticed them smirking at her.
“Goin’ tae bae an expensive lesson, lass,” said the man directly to her right.
“’Tis adorable ye think ye can shoot with the lads,” said the man to her left.
“How’s it goin’ tae look when ye both get beat by a lass?”
The men who’d lined up to compete against her, seven of them in all, laughed together. Ciara gritted her teeth and tried to keepit from getting under her skin. She tried to clear her mind of all emotion, as she’d been taught, and focused on the target at the end of her lane. It was the only thing that mattered. Her teacher had stressed the importance of focusing on the target and shutting out the distractions. And these men laughing at her were just that. She would show them.
“All right, lads—and lass,” the man running the game called. “The purse for this game is twenty-one coppers, minus my three-copper fee. Which means ye are all competin’ fer eighteen coppers. ‘Tis a very nice haul fer the winner.”
The men all around her nodded their approval and Ciara could see them already spending the extra coppers in their minds. In a way, Ciara liked that they underestimated her. It would make the look of shock on their faces when they lost to her all the sweeter.
“All right, folks,” the man announced. “The rules are simple. Three shots. The one who’s closes tae the heart of the target with all three arrows is the winner. Simple enough?”
