Page 16 of Kidnapped By her Highland Enemy
Instead of replying, Maisie shrugged and Eilidh took it with a nod. “Ah, lass. I wish it werenae that way. But I ken ye will find yer place in life at the right time. And ye’ll find love in the same way.”
Maisie looked up, swallowing hard. Did the lady know something that she did not?
“Erm… thank ye?” Maisie said.
Gradually standing, Eilidh took the tray and then tapped Maisie’s shoulder, “Ye’ll be all right, lass. I am a healer meself and I ken the heart that it takes to be one. Yer faither might nae ken it, but I sense ye do have it. Try nae to worry, Miss Maisie.”
The older woman’s parting words did not comfort Maisie as much as she would have liked. The truth was Lucas disorientated her in the worst way. She should not be drawn to him, but she was. She should not be intrigued by him, but shewas. She should jerk away from his touch, not crave to lean into it.
Lying back on her bed, Maisie tried to logically work through the emotions that sat on her chest but as the evening slipped to night, and with no answers forthcoming, she realized that nothing made sense. She should not like the man, even less be drawn to him.
Naything is right, and what if it gets worse? What will I do then?
6
Five days slipped by faster than Lucas would have imagined and let an odd itch under his skin, a sensation he knew very well—and hated. It was the same feeling he got when waiting for an attack, but nothing was forthcoming. He wanted to know what was happening at his home, but did not dare.
A tense solemness rested in the house, and more than once he had heard the lass pacing above. Was she as worried and agitated as he was? He kept going outside, checking the grounds, the woods, and the seaside. Oliver had gone back to the main market once to find what whispers were going through the people’s ears.
“It’s still nothing much, me laird,” Oliver said as he entered the house for another morning of scouting the towns nearby. “There is nay word about ye taking Hendry’s daughter or any whispers about any plans to kill ye as far as I was able to find.”
“I’m nae surprised,” Lucas said while his gaze flew up to the ceiling above. “Faither has the means to stifle any rumors that might tarnish his good name an’ our hierarchy in the highlands.”
He had thought that Laird Dunn would have latched onto him kidnapping Maisie like a goshawk would snatch a mouse. It was the perfect opportunity to smear his name and make him into a wicked fiend deserving of death.
Somehow, the silence from both clans made Lucas that more agitated and he wondered, again, if kidnapping Maisie had been the right thing to do. When he had told Maisie about his clan’s flaws, he had omitted how rash they were at time, but now, that same thing was haunting him.
We could have held a meeting an’ found a way to fetter this so-called killer out from amongst us without me resorting to stealing the lass from her home.
But then—would he have met Maisie? She was a lovely girl, beautiful, smart, and quick-tongued, but he felt she was dejected and unhappy. He did not know what was happening at her home, but he wished she did not have to suffer for it.
After a mostly sleepless, worry-filled night, Lucas made it out to the front room with an invisible weight resting on his shoulders. He ventured into the front room, tired but still resolute and had to keep his guard up. He was a soldier, eight years as a trained but truly born as one.
He came across Maisie’s lady maid in the kitchen and held back a snort at how she turned her nose up at him.
“Good morning,” he inclined his head.
A twinge in her jaw told him she was clenching her teeth. “Good morning,” she eventually mumbled.
Looking at the pot of milk he nodded while reaching for an empty goblet, craving water. “I see ye’ve realized there is nay hemlock in our food, eh?”
She sneered but dropped her lip quickly. “We’ll see about that. I’m making me lady’s meals this morning as I daenae trust ye. Ye are all Barclays, a vicious, brutal lot.”
The insult washed over Lucas’s back like water over a duck’s feathers; he did not mind it, but someone else did.
“Heather!” Maisie snapped sharply from behind them.
Pivoting on his heel, Lucas saw a different Maisie than he had seen before. She looked exhausted, her golden eyes hazed in sleep, dark smudges rested under her eyes and her face was wan. The only feature that gave a hint of her true temperament was the stubborn set of her chin.
Still, even tired beyond reason, she was displeased. “Ye cannae talk to him like that.”
Like the plant shrinking under a scorching sun, Heather wilted at her mistress’s rebuke but even so, she still looked stubborn. Cheek twitching, Heather poured out two goblets, leaving one for Maisie then disappearing with the other into a room down the hall.
Maisie did not meet his eyes, but he reached out anyhow. Touching her arm, he finally got her to look at him. “How are ye?”
Her lips pressed tightly, and she shook her head slowly. “I’m muddled. It’s so troubling that I cannae—it’s distressing to say the least."
His thumb made soft circles on the back of her hand, trying to comfort her. “Would ye like to take a walk down to the seaside with me? The sea air is quite restorative for anything that might ail you in the future.”
