Page 20 of Kidnapped By her Highland Enemy
“Another fault of mine,” he said, not kidding her but keeping close to her so she could feel his body on hers. “I want ye, lass.”
Masie decided.Please, if ye ken that ye are going to break me heart, daenae do this to me.“I’ll take it with ye.”
He kissed her again, sensually soft this time while her hand speared into his hair. Lucas’s thick locks slipped like silk through her fingers. He pulled away, “Get some sleep, Maisie.”
She startled and he saw it, then gave a questioning look in reply. “What?”
“I ken that is the first time ye’ve said me name,” she whispered.
“Ah,” he nodded, but a smirk rested on his face, “Tastes so lovely on me tongue,” he grinned. “Now, please, go get some sleep.”
With a nod and a whispered parting word, she left the nook and headed up to her room, feeling his eyes on her all the way.
Weak sunlight was tickling Maisie’s eyes as she pulled herself from sleep. Blinking her eyes open, she realized that it was much past dawn. Slipping out of bed, she drifted to the window to see a calmer sky, its pale wash of blue telling of the storm from last night. The seas were calm, ebbing and flowing as if they had not been a raging tempest the night before.
Leaning on the sill, she gazed out and the memories of last night—or was it that morning—came back to her. Lucas hadn’t been fair in persuading her, but perhaps, if he had not been, she would have lost a chance to experience something.
He had been with women before and some of them had broken his heart.
With Lucas’s looks, he would not have to persuade any lass into his bed. He was more than enough man for many women, let alone one, so, why did he suddenly decide to be with her? He had to be mad to be daring her father’s wrath, but then, she wasdoing the same. She could be in as much danger as he was when it came to crossing a line that should not have been crossed.
Pulling away from the table, she went to wash her face and mouth then descended the stairs to make some more warmed milk. As she entered the lower room, she felt an odd silence in the air.Where is Lucas?
As she had the pan on with the last of the milk, she began to hum a tune under her breath while she waited.
“Me lady,” Heather greeted her as she joined her in the nook. “Good morning.”
“Same to ye,” Maisie said, while growing concerned at how grave, displaced, and coldly angry her maid looked. “Are ye all right, Heather?”
“Nay,” Heather scowled. “And I willnae be until I am long gone from this place.”
Debating with herself about telling her bosom friend about her encounter with Lucas, Maisie bit her lip. She stared at the pot for a long while. “Where are the men?”
“Barclay took his man-at-arms out to hunt this morn, just after dawn, but his other guard and Miss Eilidh is here with us,” Heather replied as Maisie made her drink and headed back up to her room. Following her, Heather added, “She is resting, and he is guarding the front.”
“Ah,” Maisie sat and drank. While indecision twisted her stomach, she nervously said, “Heather, I daeane want ye to ken ill of me, but, I daenae ken Lucas is a bad as I once kent he was.”
“What?” Heather gasped in horror. “How can ye even consider such a thing? He is yer, our, enemy, me lady. Ye cannae be so blinded by him to nae realize that he is tricking ye. He doesnae come from a good family, nor do I ken he has any good intention for ye. Ye cannae allow him to trick ye into believing that he is a decent fellow.”
The milk lost all appeal for Maisie, but she drank it still. “He is nae an evil man, Heather. I do wish ye would open yer eyes to see that he is nae his father. Despite what happened between our clans, he has nae killed us nor do I ken he will.”
“He’s tricking ye,” Heather threw her hands up in despair. “Can ye nay see that?”
Resting the goblet down, Maisie said, “Why do ye keep holding unto this notion? He has nay harmed ye or me and he willnae do so.”
“His colors will turn,” Heather sneered. “And when he does, ye’ll know how foolish ye were to trust him at all. Ye faither will be embarrassed for ye.”
While knowing Heather was right—her father would not only be embarrassed but also enraged—she could not deny that the feeling of resting in Lucas’s arms made her feel warm, understood, even cared for.
That is me innocence talking, he might arouse me, but does he care for me?
“Please leave,” Maisie said, more harshly than she had thought she would ever say to her friend. Now that she knew Heather was dead set on hating the man, she was ever gladder that she had not told Heather that Lucas had kissed her. “Yer being unreasonable.”
With her jaw working, Heather nodded curtly and left the room, leaving Maisie to feel horrible, sad, and perplexed. She understood why Heather was feeling so betrayed, as years ago her brother had been killed by the Barclays, but she should have realized that Lucas was not the barbarian that had murdered her brother. If he had been, they would have been dead already.
Maybe her feelings for the man—as inexplicable as they were as only a sennight or so ago, she had hated the man—were interrupting her logic, but she felt, deeply felt that Lucas was a good man. He was unsettlingly handsome and she had begun to know that there was more to him than swordsmanship and quick feet. He was smart, brave, and patriotic to his green and purple kilted roots.
Sighing, she went to prop herself near the window and began to look out at the glistening waters that stretched into the far beyond. Against all reason, she began to think about what Lucas had said about her father. He was right; she did crave his approval. What she did know though was that if she dared to keep this—attachment, relationship, dalliance?—with Lucas, she would never, ever get it.
