Page 33 of Captured By the Cruel Highlander
“I see ye are overthinkin’ things again,” came a gruff voice behind him.
Turning in place, he saw Doughall Scott standing before him, severe and irritable as ever.
Doughall’s hair had grown even longer, and he was sporting an impressive beard along with it. His grey eyes followed the soldier and the maid as they walked away.
“I dinnae recall askin’ yer opinion on it,” Adam grumbled.
“Och! Then ye didnaesendfor me?” Doughall asked with mock outrage as he moved forward, and the two men embraced. “Is that wee fairy I saw in the gardens yer future wife?” he asked.
“Aye,” Adam replied, feeling an absurd spike of irritation.
“Stewart has good taste—who would have guessed?”
“I’ll thank ye to keep yer eyes to yerself,” Adam growled.
Doughall snorted. “She looks like less of a handful than yer sisters.”
Adam frowned at him. “Ye’ll keep a civil tongue in yer head about Freya and Laura, too.”
Doughall rolled his eyes at him. “Why did ye nae kill her as ye planned?”
Adam’s stomach churned at the idea. He turned away, heading up the corridor, hiding his discomfort as best as he could.
“May I remind ye,” he said firmly, “thatkillin’the lass was never me plan? It was yers. Theo convinced me that there might be an easier option.”
“Keepin’ the woman around is never goin’ to be an ‘easier’ option, believe me,” Doughall muttered.
“I beg to differ. What has she done to deserve death?”
“Other than marryin’ James Stewart, the biggest bastard in Scotland?”
“Aye, other than that. Besides, she didnae want to marry him. He threatened her family, and she had to agree.”
“So she says.”
“I believe her.”
Adam could feel Doughall’s eyes on him, but he refused to meet them. One problem with having such a close friend was that he could read him like a book.
“Or did ye see the nymph and decide ye’d rather have her for yerself?” Doughall asked.
Scowling as he opened his study door, Adam allowed his friend to enter and slammed it shut behind him. “Nothin’ of the kind.”
Doughall removed his heavy cloak and threw it carelessly over the back of a chair. He had grown wider since Adam had last seen him; he looked as though he could break an oak tree in half with his bare hands.
“Then why did ye keep her alive?” Doughall continued. “Explain it to me in one-syllable words.”
“To draw him in,” Adam replied with forced patience. “That’s why Theo sent for ye. I need yer men. It’ll show that we have strength in numbers, and when Stewart attacks, we’ll be ready for him.”
Doughall dragged a heavy chair to the fireplace, and Adam frowned as the chair legs carved white lines into the flagstones.
“And how do ye ken she’ll go along with this little plan of yers? What if she escapes at the last minute or finds ye in yer bed and slits yer throat.”
The thought of Emily finding him in his bed was a rather distracting one. Adam imagined her creeping into his room at night, crawling onto his bed, and straddling his body, a knife raised in her hands, ready to strike. But then he would sit up, grab her waist, and flip her beneath him, rendering her utterly, sweetly helpless.
“MacNiall.”
“Mhm?”
