Highlander's Sword (14 page)

   Blankets were on the bed, but wary of her predicament, did not want to undress and get into bed. Soon, though, she was too cold to care and stripped quickly out of her kirtle, left on the linen chemise, and wrapped herself in the blankets. She refused to lie down though and sat back in the chair to await her fate. She didn't understand why she had been brought there or what McNab wanted with her. Although she did not wish for his presence, she might be able to tolerate him if he brought food and a flame.

   She did not have to wait much longer. Heavy footsteps approached, the lock clicked, and McNab walked into the room, candle in hand. With gnawing resentment, she saw he had been feasting downstairs while she shivered. He was warm and dry, his face flushed. Worse, he had the smell of roasted meat, which teased her empty belly.

   "Greetings, m'lady," said McNab with a mocking smile. "I pray ye find yer accommodations to yer liking?"

   Aila only glared from beneath her blanket cocoon. She was warmer now, but such a greeting deserved no response.

   "'Tis cold in here. Too stubborn to light a fire, are we?"

   "Ye dinna leave me a flame," Aila ground out.

   McNab shrugged. "Things here may no' be as comfortable as ye are used to, princess." McNab knelt by the hearth and, using his candle, lit the fire. His back turned, Aila had the sudden thought to strike him senseless and make her escape. She glanced furtively around the room, but it was practically bare. A bed, curtains, a table, a chair—the chair, that's it. Standing up without making a noise, her blankets falling to the floor, she picked up the wooden chair and took a step toward the man hunched over his work.

   "That should warm us, princess," said McNab, standing quickly and turning to face her. Aila was now directly in front of him, the chair poised over her head for attack. "Well now," said McNab, taking the chair effortlessly from her hands, "ye'd no' be thinking to knock my head off, no?" Aila backed away from the man. He looked her up and down, and smiled in a cold way. "I do thank ye for dressing for our purpose, princess."

   Aila tried to grab the blankets from the floor, but McNab stepped forward onto them, preventing her from pulling them up.

   "What do ye want from me?" Aila's voice was so soft the words were barely audible above the roar of the storm. McNab slowly approached and heart pounded. She backed away from him until she hit the wall. He continued until he was but an inch away. She pressed into the wall, trying not to let any part of her body touch his. Not wanting to look at his face, she stared at his chest. He also was breathing fast.

   "I want ye, Aila. Or more importantly, yer fortune."

   "Are ye daft? My father will kill ye for holding me ransom."

   "I'm not holding ye for ransom. I'm holding ye forever." McNab pressed against her and smiled when she gasped. "Ah, ye'll make a bonnie bride."

   "Nay!" shouted Aila and shoved him back with all

her might. "Ye cannot marry me. I've already been wed. Ye've surely no' heard the news, but I married Sir Padyn MacLaren yester morn."

   "Oh, I ken it, but no matter." He grabbed her wrists and pinned them to the wall. "I claim ye by right o' handfast, and if ye be breeding afore a year's out, ye'll be mine." He held her fast, leaning all his weight onto her wrists, holding her straight-armed against the wall.

   Aila's heart beat hard and her mind spun. She must think of some escape from the situation. "Archie, listen to me." Aila tried to sound calm and reasonable. "I'm already married. Ye canna claim me. MacLaren winna take kindly to ye stealing me."

   McNab frowned, but only for a moment. "And ye be sure o' that?" McNab leaned over and began planting little kisses on her forehead. She turned her face into the wall.

   "He will come for me and kill ye for sure." Aila tried to sound more confident than she felt. After MacLaren's rejection of her on their wedding night, she honestly did not know what he would do or if he would even mount a rescue. Though to protect his financial interests, he most certainly would demand her return.

   "If he cared so verra much, why did he no' come to ye on yer wedding night?"

   Shocked, Aila turned back to him. "How did ye ken…"

   Taking advantage of her open mouth, he claimed it with his, pressing hard against her lips and forcing his tongue in her mouth. Filled with revulsion and shock at the forced intimacy, Aila suddenly remembered a jewel of wisdom bestowed on her by her mother. Jerking her knee up, she slammed it as hard as she could between his legs. Archie McNab howled in pain and dropped to the floor, just as her mother said a man would.
Thanks, Mother,
she thought and fled to the unlocked door.

   She opened the door and tasted freedom for but a moment before vise-like fingers closed around her arm and she was yanked back into the room. Aila flew several feet before crumpling to the floor and sliding to the opposite wall. McNab slammed the door shut and doubled over once again in pain.

   "That wasna verra nice," he panted, slowly sliding down the door until he was curled into a ball on the floor. The two lay still for a few moments, struggling for breath on either side of the small room. Realizing she was more shaken than hurt, Aila climbed back into the chair. She drew the blankets around her once more, feeling more comfortable to be less revealed. She looked at the figure crumpled on the floor and remembered the skinny boy he used to be, always an outsider, always rejected. She pitied him for a moment, but remembering her current situation and his intentions, her feelings moved swiftly to revulsion. She wanted nothing more than to be away from him, away from this trap. She had nothing to fight against McNab except her wits, and she needed to think with a clear head if she had any hope of escape.

   "I'm sorry if I hurt ye," said Aila, hoping to reason with the man, "but I canna agree to what ye want. Our clans have e'er been at peace wi' one another. Kidnapping me can only end in ruin. Let me go now, and I will no' tell my father or MacLaren what ye've done."

   McNab sat up with a grimace and leaned back against the door, still sitting on the floor. "What could they do to me, Aila, that has no' already been done? When Bruce made king, did he no' take most o' our land? It dinna matter most folks, including Bruce, mind ye, allied wi' the English at one point. But no, we were treated as if we were the only one."

   "But how will starting a clan war help ye?"

   "Was no' supposed to be," McNab shot back. "I planned it out careful. The man said Graham would give ye to me to stop the burning."

   "What man?" asked Aila. Had someone put this ridiculous plan into McNab's head? McNab said nothing. Aila's mind continued to piece things together. "The fields! Are ye saying ye purposely set our fields ablaze to force Father to give me to ye?"

   "Aye, lass. Good reckoning. Nice to ken our bairns will no' be daft."

   "But how could ye?" cried Aila, standing up. "How could ye threaten innocent people wi' starvation?"

   "How could I?" McNab repeated angrily and struggled to stand. "'Tis time ye reap what ye sow. When our land was stripped from us, our herds taken, did ye no' ken what would happen to our clan? We starved while ye feasted. We struggled while yer father built up yer fortress. Put in real glass windows, did he no'? Ye ken how many o' my clansman that would have fed?"

   "If ye needed help, why did ye no' ask?"

   "Ask for a handout? Ye must be daft. After we lost our land, people treated us like we was dirt." McNab walked over to Aila, his eyes gleaming with intensity, but this time, Aila stood her ground. "Did ye ken my father humbled himself and took me to see Laird Graham? My father told him I was a good lad and asked if I could foster wi' him. Yer father said he'd no' take traitorous blood in his house and kicked us out."

   "I'm sorry that happened." Aila meant it sincerely. "Ye shoud'na be punished for something yer father did."

   Suddenly McNab dropped to his knees before her and took her hands. "Would it be so bad, Aila, to be my wife? I have little for ye now, but once yer father dies, we shall both be rich."

   Aila was at first startled and then repulsed by his decla ration. "I canna marry ye. I am MacLaren's wife."

   "MacLaren!" said McNab, jumping up. "That arrogant bastard, always swaggering around wi' his big sword. All the lasses used to swoon for him." Aila looked away. It was unfortunately an accurate picture of herself as a young lass. "Ye've always looked down yer nose at me. I'm no' good enough for ye, am I?" McNab's voice was chilling, and Aila craned her neck to look back up at him.

   "I've ne'er looked down at ye, Archie. Ye've always been taller than me." McNab seemed seem to relax a bit, though he still stood close, holding her hands. "I ken ye be taller than MacLaren, too," added Aila, thinking a bit of flattery could not hurt her situation.

   "Truly?" asked McNab, and Aila could see once again the lonely child, if only for a moment. He shook his head, releasing her hands and slowly removing her blankets from around her. She stiffened but offered no resistance. If it came to a physical fight, she would lose. Her only hope was to reason with him. McNab replaced the blankets where she had found them and sat down on the bed. "'Tis too late now. Come here, Aila. I promise I'll be gentle wi' ye."

   Aila shivered again, standing before him in naught but her undergarments. Her heart started to beat faster, and she glanced at the door, but the bed stood between her and freedom. "Dinna be a fool, I tell ye. MacLaren will kill ye for this."

   "I'm disappointed by yer lack o' faith in me. But no matter. Ye simply dinna understand. I hope my plan will work for the good o' my clan, but otherwise, I dinna care. I may end up a rich man, I may end up dead on MacLaren's sword, but either way, I can say I died a man. I'm no coward, Aila, I ken my plan may no' succeed, but I'm willing to take the risk."

   "But…" Aila struggled to find something to say that could change the man's mind. "Our fathers' differ ences need no' be ours. Let me go now, and we can still be friends."

   "Ah, that's where ye're wrong. One o' the best things about this plan is no matter what the outcome, yer father will ken I bedded his daughter." With a cold smile, McNab stood and walked toward Aila. "I wish I could see the look on the auld bastard's face when he thinks about me between yer legs every night."

   Aila gasped, her pulse thumping in her ears, making it difficult to think. Behind her, the fire prevented her from retreating any farther and illuminated her through her thin chemise.

   "Ye're a bonny lass. I'm going to enjoy this," he said, his gaze crawling all over her body. Fast and sure, he reached out and spun her to the wall, pinning her body with his. She tried to fight, but he held her arms firm against the wall and ground his hips against hers, preventing any repeat of her kicking him in tender areas. Innocent though she was, she could easily discern his arousal through her thin chemise.
Help!
She lifted up her desperate prayer. Tears pooled in her eyes.
Help, help, help!

   "We made a deal earlier to save yer horse. Let's make a deal again. Ye agree no' to fight me, and I take ye gentle and slow. I can give ye pleasure, Aila, like ye've ne'er kenned. Or, ye can fight me, and I'll slam ye as hard as ye slammed me. Either way, I'll be pleased. So what'll it be?"

   
Ait ne irascatur dominus meus quod coram te adsurgere
nequeo quia iuxta consuetudinem feminarum nunc accidit
mihi sic delusa sollicitudo quaerentis est.

   The verse that flew to Aila's mind was odd indeed. Despite her predicament, she pondered it quickly, trying to make sense of it. It was a verse from the biblical story of Rachel, who, not wanting to have her camel searched, refused to dismount, saying it was her time of the month.

   "Make up yer mind, sweetheart," McNab murmured as he nuzzled her hair.

   "My courses!" shouted Aila.

   "What?" McNab jerked back.

   "Ye canna take me now. 'Tis my, well… that's why MacLaren coud'na come to me last night, ye ken?"

   "Oh." McNab frowned and took another step back. "Aye, that makes sense." Aila held her breath while McNab rubbed his beard and glared at her. He twisted his face, looking disgusted. "I dinna want ye now. Ye'll have to wait to please yer new laird. Besides, 'twill be better for me to bed ye first when we reach home. 'Tis no' like ye're going anywhere," said McNab, as if the delay was his idea.

   "Aye, sir," replied Aila meekly, trying not to show her utter relief.

   "Dinna forget, I claimed ye as my bride. Ye be mine now, so spend yer night thinking of ways to please yer new master." McNab exited the room with quick strides and locked the door behind him.

   Exhausted, Aila collapsed into the chair. She wrapped her arms around herself and started to shake again, which this time had nothing to do with being cold. Despite her current situation, she could not help smiling. Men. Her mother had been right about another thing. They did fear a women's time of the month. It seemed rather silly to her, but she was not complaining. Her falsehood had bought a reprieve, but it would not last for long.