my home crumbles to the ground?”
Locke returned to her side. His face hovered mere inches from hers, where she could
hear his breath, scent something spicy and warm upon him.
“Until you turn ten and eight,” he clarified. “Your father, if he pretends to be any
kind of man, will find another method of fixing the ills of your people. Wedding his
daughter to a wealthy man he scarce knows is common enough but foolish.”
“My father sought a good match. He is a wise man—”
“But a blind one.” Locke strode away to tend the fire.
Averyl stared at her captor, a frown creasing her brow. He clearly held the mistaken
belief that MacDougall was some manner of villain. How, when Locke himself had done
nothing but act barbarously? And for what reason did he think her father blind?
Before she could question him, he turned to face her again.
“The gate has but one key.” He paused to fish it from a small pouch within his codpiece
at the apex of his hose. “Have no doubt, I would feel your touch should you try to
retrieve it. But then, if you put a hand in this pocket, I would assume you sought
something else.”
“You have a depraved mind. I doubt you possess anything worth touching, other than
yon key.”
Locke shrugged as if her opinion meant naught to him. Likely it meant even less. Still,
his gaze traveled over her shoulders, the swells of her breasts, once more.
Disturbed by his inspection, she pulled the blanket up higher. “Release me now.” As
hoped, her words returned his attention to her face. “I vow to wed someone other than
the MacDougall, even cousin Robert, if ’twill please you.”
He shook his dark head, clearly disbelieving. “You desire Murdoch’s funds too badly.
Besides, I need you here until your next birthday.”
“This abduction is senseless,” she railed. “Why do you care if the MacDougall and
I are wed?”
His unnerving, unwavering gaze whipped back to her face. Refusing to back down, she
glared in return.
“We have discussed this. My motives concern you not.”
A new flash of fury seared her. Did he not understand the consequence of his actions
on her life? Aye, he did. The heartless monster would end her hopes, crush any chance
of restoring Abbotsford and enjoying a loving husband’s arms. “Concern me not? Your
selfish revenge will cost me my future.”
He paused, jaw taut. “When I am able, I will give you coin to save your home.”
“When you are able?” she countered, clutching the sheet below her chin in a tight
grip. “’Tis not enough. What husband will share Abbotsford with me? Whose children
will occupy its halls? Your vengeful need will ensure I lose an honorable man willing
to call me ,” she pointed to herself, “his lady wife.”
He approached again, face alive with anger. His penetrating eyes, tousled dark hair,
and three days’ growth of beard all lent him the look of a ruthless warrior. She refused
to back away when he sat beside her, the mattress dipping with his weight.
“Honorable man?” he queried, grasping her arm. “You know naught of Murdoch. Do not
be taken in by his pretty smile or his money. My revenge will see justice done, save
the hides of your English cousins, and rectify the damage of Murdoch’s evil.”
“ His evil?” she countered, anger a hot flow in her blood. “Have you forgotten your own
misdeeds?”
A chill slashed across his lean face, filling the dark contours with shadow.
“Murdoch put forth the coin for Lochlan MacDougall’s murder and pointed the finger
at me. I mean to make him pay for that.”
Wildly, she shook her head. Such was not possible. Locke had killed Murdoch MacDougall’s
sire. How could her abductor possibly claim Murdoch had been responsible?
“’Tis not so… Murdoch said—”
“Murdoch said?” he countered sharply. “So it must be true?”
Drake stood, arms crossed over his broad chest like a warrior who had no doubt of
Locke returned to her side. His face hovered mere inches from hers, where she could
hear his breath, scent something spicy and warm upon him.
“Until you turn ten and eight,” he clarified. “Your father, if he pretends to be any
kind of man, will find another method of fixing the ills of your people. Wedding his
daughter to a wealthy man he scarce knows is common enough but foolish.”
“My father sought a good match. He is a wise man—”
“But a blind one.” Locke strode away to tend the fire.
Averyl stared at her captor, a frown creasing her brow. He clearly held the mistaken
belief that MacDougall was some manner of villain. How, when Locke himself had done
nothing but act barbarously? And for what reason did he think her father blind?
Before she could question him, he turned to face her again.
“The gate has but one key.” He paused to fish it from a small pouch within his codpiece
at the apex of his hose. “Have no doubt, I would feel your touch should you try to
retrieve it. But then, if you put a hand in this pocket, I would assume you sought
something else.”
“You have a depraved mind. I doubt you possess anything worth touching, other than
yon key.”
Locke shrugged as if her opinion meant naught to him. Likely it meant even less. Still,
his gaze traveled over her shoulders, the swells of her breasts, once more.
Disturbed by his inspection, she pulled the blanket up higher. “Release me now.” As
hoped, her words returned his attention to her face. “I vow to wed someone other than
the MacDougall, even cousin Robert, if ’twill please you.”
He shook his dark head, clearly disbelieving. “You desire Murdoch’s funds too badly.
Besides, I need you here until your next birthday.”
“This abduction is senseless,” she railed. “Why do you care if the MacDougall and
I are wed?”
His unnerving, unwavering gaze whipped back to her face. Refusing to back down, she
glared in return.
“We have discussed this. My motives concern you not.”
A new flash of fury seared her. Did he not understand the consequence of his actions
on her life? Aye, he did. The heartless monster would end her hopes, crush any chance
of restoring Abbotsford and enjoying a loving husband’s arms. “Concern me not? Your
selfish revenge will cost me my future.”
He paused, jaw taut. “When I am able, I will give you coin to save your home.”
“When you are able?” she countered, clutching the sheet below her chin in a tight
grip. “’Tis not enough. What husband will share Abbotsford with me? Whose children
will occupy its halls? Your vengeful need will ensure I lose an honorable man willing
to call me ,” she pointed to herself, “his lady wife.”
He approached again, face alive with anger. His penetrating eyes, tousled dark hair,
and three days’ growth of beard all lent him the look of a ruthless warrior. She refused
to back away when he sat beside her, the mattress dipping with his weight.
“Honorable man?” he queried, grasping her arm. “You know naught of Murdoch. Do not
be taken in by his pretty smile or his money. My revenge will see justice done, save
the hides of your English cousins, and rectify the damage of Murdoch’s evil.”
“ His evil?” she countered, anger a hot flow in her blood. “Have you forgotten your own
misdeeds?”
A chill slashed across his lean face, filling the dark contours with shadow.
“Murdoch put forth the coin for Lochlan MacDougall’s murder and pointed the finger
at me. I mean to make him pay for that.”
Wildly, she shook her head. Such was not possible. Locke had killed Murdoch MacDougall’s
sire. How could her abductor possibly claim Murdoch had been responsible?
“’Tis not so… Murdoch said—”
“Murdoch said?” he countered sharply. “So it must be true?”
Drake stood, arms crossed over his broad chest like a warrior who had no doubt of
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