Page 3 of It Began With A Kiss
“Find him,” Aiden ordered. He gave a jerk of his head and his men wasted no time in their attempt to find Laird Ewan. There was now no need to remain quiet. Their moment of opportunity was lost as Aiden heard his men drawing their swords down the corridor.
Sharp teeth sank into his hand. “God’s blood,” Aiden cursed, shoving the person back into the chamber and slamming the door. Shaking his hand to get some feeling back into his bruised fingers, he barely ducked in time to miss the iron poker from the hearth that was aimed at his head. He must be losing his edge if he did not see that one coming.
His assailant’s shadow moved across the dimly lit room like a specter from the underworld wanting to lay claim to his soul. But Aiden’s mission was just, and he was in no way prepared to meet an early demise. Nay, no one would halt his mission to become victorious with the rising sun, including the person who began throwing any object in his direction.
“Cease your madness,” Aiden warned, only to dodge a heavy chalice that ricocheted off the wall. By damned, enough was enough.
Aiden advanced with an angry stride, causing another shriek of outrage to erupt from the person he stalked. But the chamber was not overly large and there was no place to hide from Aiden’s growing wrath. His quarry was trapped in the darkest corner of the room. Without further thought, Aiden leaped forward. A knife slashed through the air. Aiden whirled, wrapping his arm around the person’s waist, but not before he felt blood beginning to run down his arm. He tightened his hold and his senses immediately gave him surprising news about the person he was holding.
There could be no mistake. This was a woman, for her curves were intimately molded to his body, and Aiden certainly knew when there was a lady within his arms. Her hair was trapped between them and the flowery fragrance of her tresses made Aiden forget, for the briefest of moments, what exactly he was supposed to be doing.
He inhaled sharply, instantly aware of exactly how long he had been without a willing lass beneath him. Not that she was willing, nor was this the right time to pursue such an endeavor. Yet he could not resist the impulse to lean down and put his nose into her hair and breathe deeply.
But a gasp of outrage and a well-placed elbow into his stomach caused Aiden to ponder his sanity yet again. Exactly who was this woman?
CHAPTER3
Iona’s chest heaved in outrage that she was being held thusly. How dare this beast of a man handle her in such a way? Just wait until her husband learned of this! She still held the knife in her hand but that did not last for long, for her assailant grabbed her wrist and squeezed. Her fingers instantly became numb, the blade falling uselessly to the floor. At least she had made her one opportunity count. She could only pray the cut she had inflicted caused enough damage, wherever the blade had managed to reach.
Worried for her wellbeing, she began to struggle. The only outcome was to be pulled firmly across a firm chest that surely must be carved from solid granite. The more she attempted to wiggle herself free, the tighter he held her. Who was this man and how had he managed to escape the guard’s notice?
“Unhand me, ye fiend,” she hissed angrily. Was that a muffled laugh she heard behind her?
“I highly doubt you can be trusted with your freedom, lassie,” the man answered, and Iona detected a hint of humor in his voice. But there could also be no mistaking the slight Scottish brogue in the tone of his voice.A Scotsman attacking Dunborough? That did not make any sense whatsoever.
“Ye have my word,” Iona answered. Already she was thinking of the many ways she could escape his presence to go and find her husband. Surely there was no sin in lying when you were protecting yourself from possible physical harm.
“You must think I am a fool if you believe I would take you at your word that you would not attempt to escape me,” her captor said with a snide laugh.
She shrugged, although confused for now the man sounded more English than Scot. “Who am I tae call ye a fool? Mayhap ye are, if ye are attempting tae seize something that does not belong tae ye.” She was spun around so quickly, her breath rushed from her lungs. If she thought having her back to this man was troubling, ’twas nothing compared to having her heaving breasts within close proximity of his muscled torso. She watched in morbid curiosity as his head inched downward as if to place a kiss upon her startled lips. “Nay,” she mumbled attempting to bring her hands up to push him away.
He halted his movement as if he realized his intent. “Perchance another time, fair maiden,” he declared with a chuckle.
Before she knew what was happening, she was shoved, none too gently, into a chair. Faster than she thought possible, he pulled at her bed coverings. Taking a dirk from his belt, he tore the linen into strips and tied her to the chair.
“How dare ye! Release me at once,” Iona demanded, whilst continuing to struggle to loosen the bindings at her wrists and ankles.
“I think not. No sense alerting all and sundry as to what is going on here.”
“Just who do ye think ye are?” Was it just her imagination or did the remainder of the glowing embers in the hearth cause her captor’s eyes to eerily glow as if he was possessed by the devil himself?
He smiled, causing Iona to swallow hard. “Why, I am your new master, of course.”
“I have no master,” she cried out angrily.
The man before her laughed. “We shall see…”
Before she could give another nasty retort, he came to her with the last of the linen. A wicked gleam entered his eyes before he placed a brief kiss upon her lips before he gagged her. She squirmed in protest.
“Perchance one day we will look back on this brief encounter and remind ourselves that our relationship began with a kiss,” he murmured into her ear before he stepped back to study her intently. In disbelief, she then watched him give her a jaunty bow before leaving her room.
Iona silently vowed he would pay for what he had done to her once she gained her freedom. Even as she wiggled her hands and fingers in an attempted to loosen the bindings and reach for the knife she kept hidden in her boots, the door opened silently, and her son snuck into the room to come to her aid.
CHAPTER4
Broden Ferguson could barely hide his contempt for his brother who stood before him. He was tired of acting the carefree and sometimes ridiculous fool his older brother thought him to be. Being a younger son had never sat well with Broden and when Ewan had taken over as laird of Dunborough, Broden’s life had gone from bad to worse.
Even Iona had betrayed him by choosing to be the lady of the keep rather than married to a landless younger son.She should have been mine, he thought, never mind that she had never shown even a remote inclination to favor his suit. And then, when she had given Ewan a son, his situation was doomed. Gregor’s birth ensured that inheriting the estate would never be within Broden’s grasp. His hatred for his brother was getting harder and harder to conceal. He was not sure why he even bothered any more.
