Page 57 of Kilted Abduction
Magnus looked as if he wanted to speak but he closed his mouth again and looked away and it was like a bubble had burst as the magic of that moment was broken.
“I should go,” he said, his voice thick.
“Aye. I suppose ye should.”
He got to his feet, but his gaze lingered on hers just as his hand had. He seemed reluctant to go. He looked as if he wanted to stay there, with her, reveling in that moment of tenderness, care, and whatever else seemed to be passing between them. But he simply nodded and turned away, walking briskly to the door.
“Get some rest, Ciara,” he called over his shoulder.
“Thank ye,” she said.
The door closed behind him and although she lamented his absence, the memory of his hand on hers and the warmth that enveloped her in the moment kept the smile on her face and the warmth in her belly.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
“Iam growing impatient, Laird MacDougal.”
Edmund Fairfax paced back and forth, stopping only to hold his cup out. The servant in the corner of the room quickly stepped forward and refilled the English lord’s cup, then scooted back to his post. As he took a deep draw of his wine, he studied the man seated in the large, ornately carved chair at the head of the hall, the cup managing to hide his frown of distaste. Tall and broad with dark hair and wide, rugged features, MacDougal was his opposite in every way.
Edmund hated dealing with the Scots at all—he found them to be a savage, uncouth people that the world would be better off without. But he was pragmatic enough to know he could not accomplish his goals without help. MacDougal was smart. Cunning. He had a keen sense of survival and an ambition that rivaled Edmund’s own. He was a useful tool, and one Edmund knew he could dispose of if necessary, once he had his bullheaded daughter wedded and bedded anyway. She was thekey to conquering the Scots and enslaving, if not disposing of them all.
“Patience, me lord,” MacDougal said. “All will be well.”
Edmund glowered at him. “You keep telling me that but I have seen no reason in all these weeks since you let your daughter slip through your fingers that gives me the slightest bit of confidence that all will, in fact, be well.”
MacDougal’s face darkened and his lips curled back in a sneer—an expression he was able to quickly get under control again. The laird, Edmund knew, was a pragmatic man as well. He knew he needed Edmund’s help more than Edmund needed his. At least, that’s what he had led the Scotsman to believe. The truth was, he needed MacDougal’s assistance as much, if not more, to achieve his ambitions. He needed his daughter and all the lands that came with her.
He also knew that if he pushed MacDougal too far or too hard, the Scotsman could likely raise a resistance that would be a thorn in his side for years. Perhaps decades. The most efficient way to claim the clan’s lands for his own end was to take Ciara as his bride. From there, it was an easy step to subjugating the people of her clan, which would be a major piece of the puzzle. And once he had the MacDougal clan bent to his will, he could march across the rest of Scotland.
The one stumbling block Edmund foresaw were the MacLeod’s out on the Isle of Skye. They did not hold as much land as Laird Robert, but they held key pieces to the rest of Scotland. Morethan that, they were a fierce clan. Edmund had seen firsthand just how skilled they were in battle. They were prepared, organized, and as well trained as his own army. Beating them on the field of battle would be a major accomplishment and one he was very much looking forward to.
But that would come in time. The first thing he needed to do was find and wed Ciara. And he given how much trouble she had given him to that point, he was eagerly anticipating the opportunity to teach her how to act like a good wife. It would be a real pleasure to take the fire out of the girl. Breaking her spirit was going to be a delight. And he already knew just how he was going to do it. So, for now, with his long-term goals well within reach, Edmund knew he had to play nice with the savages.
“I have scouts scouring all of Scotland,” MacDougal said. “’Tis only a matter of time before they find me wayward daughter.”
“It has been weeks already. Scotland is not that large.”
“’Tis large enough tae hide for some time. Especially if she made her way up tae the Highlands. Plenty of people up there would hide her just tae stick a thumb in me eye.”
“You are giving me even less confidence in your ability to find your daughter than I had before, Laird MacDougal.”
The Scot frowned and his expression tightened. Edmund knew he was getting perilously close to going too far. MacDougal had a notoriously fierce temper—it was a trait that seemed all Scotshad—but the laird’s seemed especially vicious. Edmund inclined his head slightly.
“Apologies, Laird MacDougal,” he said. “I am just eager to enact our plans and your daughter is proving tae be more resilient and adaptable than either of us anticipated.”
MacDougal took a long draw from his wine cup, his expression souring even more, but Edmund was sure it wasn’t because of him this time. Instead, his anger seemed more directed at his troublesome daughter, which was exactly what Edmund had intended by bringing her up. MacDougal was smart and cunning, but Edmund had been playing the game much longer and had a far sharper mind than the Scotsman.
“Me daughter’s always been more stubborn than a bleedin’ mule. An independent streak a mile wide, she’s got,” he groused.
“It seems like something you should have burned out of her when she was young.”
He nodded. “Aye. I suppose it is. But I had ten thousand other things on me mind—nae havin’ a suitable heir fer one.”
“Ah, yes. That is a problem,” Edmund said with feigned sympathy. “But I can assure you that once I have wed your daughter, she will produce an heir who will succeed you as laird.”
It seemed to mollify the man, albeit just slightly. His vanity and ego were a weakness, and one Edmund had sought to exploit from the start. Making sure his name—and that of Clan MacDougal—continued to exist long after he was gone was one of the man’s biggest priorities. Of course, titles and expanding those lands were on the list as well. And all of that had been easy enough to promise. Drawing up papers guaranteeing those promises had been even easier.
But the truth was, once MacDougal was dead and gone—perhaps even sooner than he anticipated—destroying those papers and walking back on all the promises would be simpler still. After all, once he had wed Ciara and consummated their marriage by taking her maidenhead, what was hers became his. He would be able to do what he wanted without running afoul of any laws. It would be a relatively bloodless coup that furthered his agenda.
