Page 17 of Kidnapped By her Highland Enemy
She closed her eyes, and he could see the reflection of clashing thoughts waging a battle in her mind. Lucas made sure to keep his hold on her, to keep her in the presence and not get lost in the thoughts going through her mind.
When her lashes fluttered open, and her warm golden eyes swam with conflict, it took all of Lucas’s restraint not to reel her into his arms and hold her. She was so young, and it was not fair for her to be embroiled into this conflict.
“Aye,” she nodded, “I ken it might help.”
Reaching for the milk, he handed it to her, and she drank almost silently, then, to his consternation, she licked her lips, making a flicker of desire heat in his belly. Quickly rinsing the cup, Maisie said, “Shall we then?”
They headed out into the benign day but when they arrived at the seashore, the seas were oddly extremely rough, with dark, angry waves that buffeted the rugged coastline. He led her to a long, flat stone where they sat and Maisie drew her knees up and, surprisingly, rested her head on his shoulder.
He breathed in her lavender-scented hair and felt her petite body slot into his side like a missing piece. He heard her take in a deep breath of the salty sea air and saw the flutter of her eyes, while listening to the sound of the waves as they crashed onto the shore.
“Miss Eilidh tells me ye’ve done many things over the years,” she said. “Ye went to France to contest His Highness’s orders and studied in Glasgow.”
“Aye,” he replied softly, while his fingers stroked her shoulders.
“All this time I took ye for a blockheaded solider who only knew how to fight,” she said. “I apologize. That was nae right of me to judge ye before I kent who ye are.”
A smile tugged at his lips. “Why thank ye, lass.”
She twisted her head. “How old are ye?”
“Eight and twenty,” Lucas said, while slipping his hand up to skitter over the back of her neck. She shivered a little but then leaned into his touch. “I started me training at ten-and-six at the lowest ranks in me faither’s legion. I woke up at witching hour and went to bed after the rest were done.”
Again, Maisie twisted her head, her arched brows drawing tight in the middle. “But yer hisson.”
“Matters nae to him,” he shrugged. “I could be a saint reborn and I’d still have to start at the bottom. Nay one gets a pass with me faither, ye must earn yer place.”
She let out a long breath. “Me faither wanted a boy-child, and when I came, it was as if he were predetermined to set me aside and daenae ken of me too much.”
Concerned, Lucas slanted an eye to her. “Is that why yer worried? And daenae try to tell me otherwise, I can see it on yer face.”
A corner of Maisie’s lips ticked down, “Nay, it’s because I ken if I were the male heir he’d wanted, he would have razed the countryside, lifting every rock and pebble, swimming every river, and ripping aside any tree cover to find me and…” She bit her lip and he saw her eyes begin to mist over with tears. “…it’s clear that he doesnae care to find me.”
His heart burned with pain for her. Every child sought after their parents’ care, love, and compassion—he knew becausewhile his father Cinead was stern, Lucas knew he was loved and cherished. He saw her pain and wanted to comfort her.
“This place is unknown to anyone but me, me man Oliver, and his wife. Nay even me faither kens where this is,” Lucas said gently. “It could be that he is searching but is looking everywhere else.”
She shook her head. “Nay, I—I ken him. He isnae looking.”
This time, his heart broke just as a tear slipped out an eye. Instantly, she dabbed at it with the back of her hand, and let out a wry laugh. “I dinnae ken why I’m crying. He’s never truly seen or understood me, an’ I reckon I shouldnae care but…”
“Nae, lass,” he said as he tightened his arm around her, the hand at her back now moving up to clutch her neck. He stilled her movements and forced her to look at him, his hooded gaze deceptively calm. “Ye should care, it is yer faither.”
Maisie felt like a fool, upset by her father that did not care if she lived or died. All her life, nothing she said, no opinion she had offered on war strategy or political and warfare matters, or even the daily meals were taken by him. The words had barely left her mouth before he waved her away with impatient arrogance. Why was she upset?
“Don’t be upset, lass,” Lucas murmured in her ear. “Please, daenae cry.”
Managing to get the pangs of grief and sorrow melting her heart under control, she dropped her hands and leaned into his side. “I ken, but I suppose emotions daenae match common-sense.”
“I’ll have to agree with ye there,” Lucas replied as she twisted to look at him. He could see the question in her eye and clarified, “I have made decisions in love that came back to haunt me.”
Smoothing a tuft of hair from her face, Maisie lifted her shoulders just so. “I wish I could but I cannae say anything about that.”
“Ye daenae have to,” he replied, while twisting his head to look at her and Maisie hoped that the grief was gone from her face.
Titling his head to the side, a lock of hair drifted over his left eye and his handsome features were inscrutable and searching. His hand reached out to her, and she grasped it with trembling fingers. It was warm and strong, and reassured her.
Suddenly, she felt too shy to hold the gaze, but as she turned away, he nudged her chin back to meet the intensity of his blue eyes. A slow warmth curled in Maisie’s stomach, and the hollowness that existed there from last night seemed to vanish.
