Kidnapping

the Laird

By

Award-Winning Author

Terri Brisbin

Chapter One

Invermoriston area

on the banks of Loch Ness

Scotland, 1360

“She'd make ye a fine wife.”

Padruig Grant drank deeply from the cup he held and shook his head at his brother—his drunken brother.

“She is already my wife,” he replied. They both watched Catriona MacDonnell as she sat talking to some of the other women at the gathering. Padruig glanced at his brother to see if the man was pissed-drunk and decided he must be. His marriage had been arranged to bring peace to the neighboring and warring clans, so there was no doubt that he was married to the woman.

“Aye. . . nay. . . aye,” his brother stuttered.

When he was in his cups, Padruig knew no one but their mother could successfully intervene and order Jamie Grant to his bed—and live to do it again. She was nowhere to be seen. Padruig caught the eye of his other younger brother who joined their small group sitting at table in the front of the hall.

“Dougal, I was just telling our brother that she would make him a fine wife,” his brother slurred his words now—not a good sign at all. Slurring words usually sat one step before a brawl.

“Catriona is married to Padruig,” Dougal took their brother's arm and slung it over his shoulders, guiding him to his feet and supporting him once he stood. “I'm hoping you can find a comely lass for me,” his brother said to him as he eased Jamie away from the table. But, as most of this day had gone, this would go as well—not well that was. Jamie pulled away, straightened to his full height and glared at Padruig, wagging his finger to emphasize his words.

“Ye need bairns, Padruig. Weeuns to carry our name and blood. And ye need them now,” his brother declared. “Get rid of that harlot who shares yer bed and see to yer wife.”

Padruig stood then, his blood beginning to boil with rage, and he crossed his arms, glaring right back at his brother. “She is the daughter of our enemy. Why are you so intent on our marriage being anything more than what you helped arrange it to be and when you know the circumstances?” Though Dougal was the natural son of their father, his natural ability to negotiate made him the one to speak to other clans when business or treaties were needed.

Jamie squinted and frowned. Why had Padruig ever tried to speak sensibly to him when he'd been celebrating and drinking since yesterday? “Aye, I arranged it between ye two. But, the MacDonnells arena our enemies. I think of them as rivals.”

Padruig could not help it then. He laughed aloud at his brother's declaration. “Rivals? Rivals, you say? The MacDonnells are nothing more than a band of thieving, cheating criminals. Or have you forgotten already the cattle they stole from us? Or how they tried to push us from our lands here in Glenmoriston?” He shook his head, refusing to debate or argue when his brother was this drunk or to debate with anyone about her. Glancing up he noticed she was watching their exchange with some interest.

Damn it to hell! Why did she have to be a MacDonnell?

No one would argue that Catriona was a rare beauty with her heart-shaped face, clear blue eyes and wave upon glorious wave of gold-tinged auburn hair that reached to her hips when she unraveled it from the braid that usually confined it. And when she smiled, it was all he could do not to take her to her bed, peel off her garments, kiss her senseless and swive her until they could not move. His trews felt tight now as his cock surged in response to his thoughts about. . . his wife! Padruig could not be certain whether the lust in his blood for her showed on his face or not, but Catriona startled and looked away, not meeting his gaze.

“Take him to his chambers, Dougal,” Padruig ordered, now in a softer voice. His younger brother began to help their sibling from the hall when he paused and smiled at Padruig.

“Ye want her. She's yer wife,” Dougal pointed out the obvious, but Padruig waited for the rest. “It may have begun as something else, but that doesna mean it canna be something more.”

Padruig closed his eyes, hoping they would both be gone when he opened them. Thankfully, they were. But Catriona remained where she’d been for most of this evening—sitting with some of his younger cousins as far from him as she could be and yet still in the same room. She’d forged a friendship of sorts with his sister, who would leave in a few days to live with her husband’s family in the western isles. What would Catriona do then? He heard footsteps approaching from his right and knew from Catriona’s darkening gaze exactly who walked closer to him.

Seana’s hand glided along his arm and across his shoulder, touching his hair and tangling in its length. She pressed her body against his back, allowing the fullness of her breasts to rest on him. Then she leaned over and whispered in his ear. He could imagine the smile that sat on her full lips as she spoke, confident in her position as his leman.

“Come now, Padruig. I am ready for bed,” she said in that sultry voice that usually sent waves of lust through his blood. This time though, the expression on Catriona’s face gave him pause.

If he did not know better, Padruig would have thought her bothered by Seana’s presence or by her attentions to him. But he did know, the memory of their disastrous wedding night burned fresh within him even these four months later. And her words, filled with loathing and disgust as she demanded he stay away from her from that night on, yet echoed in his head. Padruig had not returned to her bed or even tried to since that night, seeking out comfort in Seana’s warm embrace when he needed the softness of a woman.

But Padruig Grant was no fool and he knew better than anyone that he would seek out his wife if she gave but a sign that he would be welcomed. His pride and position as laird kept him from pursuing it and the current situation seemed to fulfill everyone’s needs—his, his wife’s, her clan’s and even his leman’s. Seana’s caress was ill-timed though and a blatant attempt on her part to lay some claim on him before the clan. He turned back to shrug off her hand and, when he glanced back, Catriona stood.

* * *

Until now, she knew she’d kept her reactions under control, but being shamed before his entire family was more than even she could bear without a response of some kind. Catriona pulled her emotions back from the brink of complete exposure and looked away from the scene unfolding at the high table between her husband and his whore. If she stood too fast or if her hands shook a bit as she gathered her cloak, surely the women there understood. As she walked out of the large hall where the Grants had gathered for the wedding feast of the laird’s youngest sister, she was not certain which hurt more— being shown how little she mattered to her husband or the pity she saw in the eyes of those who watched.

Reaching the small chamber she now claimed as her own, Catriona added some peat to the smoldering pile in the small hearth there and waited for some heat to spread out from it before undressing. This room had been an addition to the stone keep, an additional cooking hearth and storage room used for large gatherings or when needed. Once things between her and Padruig had deteriorated the morning after their wedding, she’d moved her belongings into it and no one had questioned or bothered her. Gazing around the chamber, she shuddered. If her father ever learned of her treatment or that she’d been reduced to fleeing her husband’s bed for the safety of an empty one, the fragile peace forced by this arranged marriage would be shattered.

And that was the only reason she even remained in this marriage, for her father had sworn that though she was the sacrificial lamb in this, she would not be led to slaughter. If she called on him and asked for his protection, Anghous MacDonnell would save his firstborn from the Grants. And war would follow. Catriona would not, could not, allow her family to suffer for her pride. Undressing, she hurried to climb in under the layers of warm bedcovers. Hours later, she lay awake, her pride pricking her over the constant insults to it.

If she could only claim to hate him for the situation between them, it would be easier to accept. The truth of the matter was that she did not. He had accepted the terms of their marriage as she had—it was never meant to be a love match or more than a simple outward sign of the peace treaty between his family and hers. The only physical relationship demanded of them was to live in the same place and to consummate their vows at least once.

They did. They had.

When she demanded that he leave her alone and not seek to continue to do such things, he left her alone, allowing her to live unmolested and as she pleased in the keep. Other than keeping a leman, Padruig treated her respectfully and never raised a hand to her. And usually, she never drew his eye or his attention.

Until this night.

She supposed she was out of sorts because of witnessing her only friend in Glenmoriston getting married and knowing that Nairna would leave in but a few days. And from having to watch Nairna and her new husband look at each other with such love in their eyes. Nay, she knew it was because all evening and for days now, she’d watched her own husband, unable to ignore his masculine beauty or the strength in his body.

Catriona shifted in the small bed, pulling the bedcovers up higher to stay warm, hoping that warmth would draw her into sleep and away from these disturbing thoughts and feelings. After watching his treatment of his leman and his reaction to her many public caresses and even kisses, Catriona recognized lust when she saw it in his dark, green eyes. And tonight, as he met her gaze after arguing with his brother, lust shone there. And something deep within her told her he lusted for her!

Another hour or two passed and the glimmer of an idea occurred to her about how to get past both her and Padruig’s pride in the matter of their marriage. After he’d sworn in front of others that he would never ask to come to her bed, she understood he would not, even if she invited him. But something inside her heart wanted him to want her and wanted something more than this inconvenient, impersonal arranged marriage. Something deep in her soul want to have a husband like Nairna’s who gazed on her with love in his eyes.

Damn her foolish heart but she wanted Padruig Grant to look at her that way.

Chapter Two

The moon rose above him, shining enough light down for him to continue his journey home without waiting for dawn. The relentless spring rains had finally given way to drier days and pleasant nights. He was about two miles from the keep when they attacked. Padruig fought with all his strength, but they—four or five warriors—took him prisoner. A hood was tossed over his head, covering his eyes, and a gag tied around that. With his hands bound behind his head, he was trussed up like a roast in the cook’s larder and tossed over the back of his own horse. Though Padruig tried to estimate their direction and distance, but he lost track after only a few minutes of hanging upside down over a moving horse.

‘Twas clear to him that whoever they were, they wanted him alive, for once they got his sword away from him, they could have killed him. So, Padruig decided to wait to see before taking any action. Though laird of the clan, he had brothers to step into that chair if something happened to him, so he did not fear for the clan or its future. Even Catriona would be cared for. But why kidnap a laird? Only retribution and destruction could follow and who would gain?

They traveled for some time, up hills and down, near rushing water and away from it, until they drew to a halt and he was dragged from the horse. His legs shook and his head spun as they pulled him along a path, through a doorway that was too low for his height and into some kind of croft or cottage. His arms were untied and he was forced to sit on the dirt floor. Padruig grabbed the nearest kidnapper and pulled him down, too, but he was quickly subdued, this time chains replacing the ropes.

Other than some muffled whispers, Padruig could not tell how many were present or who they were, but they efficiently chained him to the wall, his arms separated and placed on either side of him. The chains were low enough and long enough only to let him sit or stand, but not to move more than a half-pace from the wall itself. Once he was secured, he heard them speaking both inside and outside the building, again, with voices too low and too muffled to identify. The conversation continued for some minutes and he took advantage of their inattention to him to shift around and get some idea of how much movement he could accomplish in spite of the chains.

The door slammed, surprising him, and he heard hammers pounding nails into the frame around the door. He tried to yell against the gag, demanding answers, but between the noise of the hammering and the gag and hood, Padruig knew no one could hear him. Then, as quickly as this escapade had begun, he could hear them leaving—leaving him chained to a wall, and gagged. Padruig struggled then, pulling against the chains and trying to reach the knot in the gag to get free of it.

Who would do this? Who would take him prisoner and leave him so? Did they think to ransom him? Ha! The Grants could call many to their sides in a dispute or war, but they were not a wealthy clan at all. There would be no ransom for him. If he got free, he would beat the truth out of someone.

He twisted around and finally reached the knot behind his head and tugged it loose. Padruig loosened the canvas hood and drew it off. He expected not to be able to see anything in the dark, so the lamp burning on the table surprised him.

But the sight of Catriona standing there shocked him more.

Catriona swallowed against the fear and tried to meet his gaze. She had begun to reconsider this rash plan before she’d taken the first step, but now she knew it had been a mistake. He blinked and rubbed his eyes as though he did not believe what he was seeing and she recognized the moment when he accepted it was her, there, before him.

Husband or not, Padruig Grant was a formidable man to have as an enemy. Even chained to a wall, the power in his arms was evident—his muscles rippled as he tested the resistance of the chains. A bruise darkened the edge of his jaw even now. Catriona fisted her hands and fought the urge to touch it. It must be the tension of this plot that made her notice such things now, when she’d rarely done so during the last four months.

“What is this, Catriona?” he asked her, his voice milder than she dreamt possible.

All of the words, all of the possible explanations, she’d planned in the weeks while she laid her plans and none came to mind in this moment.

“Tell me!” he yelled louder than, his demand echoing around them both as his anger grew and the chains rattled against the stone wall behind him. Catriona trembled for a moment and then regained control over herself.

“Do you do your father’s bidding? Who were your accomplices?” he asked again.

He pulled against the chains and she jumped back a step in reaction. Cat raised her hand and rubbed her forehead. Why had she ever thought this would work? Padruig somehow managed to climb to his feet. Now he used his height to intimidate her since his loud voice had not. Dougal had warned her of what to expect when Padruig lost his temper and so far, he knew his brother well. What had he advised? Oh, hold her ground. Let him yell. Then negotiate. She’d done that the morning after their wedding and it had worked, so Cat had every expectation that it would she would be again. . . but this time with much different results.

Laughter bubbled inside her at this inappropriate time. From the anger in his eyes, the clenching of his jaws and the way he pulled against the chains, Cat understood there would be no negotiating with him for a while. She would be lucky to leave here alive, let alone with a husband. His brothers had not seemed worried over their safety, but that gave her no comfort—they were blood, she was a MacDonnell. She sighed and shook her head and, crossing her arms over her chest and standing as tall as possible, she spoke the words that entered her mind.

“I want a husband.”

And then it happened and he responded as all Grants did—to her name, her family’s history and based on the animosity that existed between their clans—with anger. If anyone remained behind after bringing him here and securing him, they would have heard his rants in spite of the boarded-up door and windows and in spite of the thick, stone walls of this house. He rained down curses on her and her clan. He fought against the chains until his wrists bled. Cat attempted to interrupt him several times to explain, but he did not stop. . . .

Until he did.

Collapsing against the wall and sliding down to the floor, Padruig pulled in one ragged breath after another trying to regain his control. He’d always been lauded as the even-tempered of Micheil Grant’s sons, but clearly he had inherited his father’s ability to lose his self-control without warning. Though being attacked, beaten, kidnapped and threatened with death was more reason than most would expect. Now, he wiped across his face with his arm and tried to catch his breath.

“Another husband?” he asked in a voice hoarse from shouting. “There are far easier ways than this to get a new one.” He jangled the chains for emphasis.

She did not say anything. Padruig could see that he’d frightened her out of saying anything now. Good. He could not ever remember displaying his anger like this, not even when faced with a wife who did not want him. That morning, he may have raised his voice, but that was more about the affront to his clan than to himself.

A pang of guilt touched him just then, reminding him of the way her words had indeed hurt him. And in a way that had nothing to do with his clan or hers, but in every way it was about him. His pride over his position in his clan had been offended. Worse, her words that morning had called his honor into question.

He watched as she silently walked around the chamber, gathering things he only now noticed and putting them on a wooden tray. She walked towards him and he stood, not wanting to miss the chance to get hold of her and force her to give over the key to the chains. It was then that he realized where they were, where she’d had him taken. . . and the implications of it.

Long ago his father had built a small house for his mother. Not one to live in, but one that sat on the stream that fed into the loch nearby. Her ‘lady’s house’ his father had called it and it became a place of refuge for his mother, a place of quiet and a place of privacy. From the far-away expression in their eyes whenever this place was mentioned, Padruig could only imagine, and did not want to, the time spent and the things done here. The sound of wood scraping along the floor drew his attention back and he saw Catriona pushing the tray nearer to him. She remained just far enough back so that he could not reach her, but close enough to maneuver the tray to sit within his reach.

A bowl of water. Some cloth scraps. A small jug. A piece of bread and another of cheese.

“You must be hungry,” she said, walking across the room and sitting in the chair there. “You missed both the noon and evening meal.”

He wanted to deny it, but his stomach chose that exact moment to rumble loudly, enough that he witnessed a fleeting smile pass over her mouth. Padruig slid back down and pulled the tray closer. She’d had him kidnapped but offered him food and water. . . and the small comforts to clean himself of the blood that now trickled down his arms and hands from his wrists. In the midst of planning such a radical thing, she’d taken time to notice he’d missed meals and had food ready for him.

Her eyelids began to flutter as she watched him eat. By the time he’d consumed the last crumb of food and drop of ale, she sat asleep in the chair, her head leaning to one side. Padruig would wait, not that he had any choice in the matter, and get his answers in the morn. Thinking on the implications of all of this, he realized something else.

She might want a new husband, but she did not wish him dead.

Or, at the least, not dead yet.

Chapter Three

Catriona woke with a start, forgetting where she was and why she was sleeping in a chair. Scant daylight entered through the one small window left uncovered near the doorway, revealing that morn had broken. She rubbed her neck as she straightened her head, easing the pain of sleeping with her head leaning to one side. Only as she did so, did she remember. . . everything. And him!

“Good morn, Catriona,” he said.

His tone was so pleasant she could have believed them meeting in the hall of the keep to break their fast. Glancing over at him, she gathered her loosen hair back into its braid and stood, her arms and legs screaming in protest after hours spent in one position. He’d cleaned his wounds and wrapped some of the cloth rags around them to protect them from further injury. Cat stumbled as she stood and he moved against his chains. Had he tried to help her? She met his gaze and nodded at him.

“Padruig.”

They lived separately, though under the same roof, so she had no experience with him in the mornings. Or the nights, though she knew, as did everyone in Clan Grant, how he spent those. Cat walked to the small hearth, stretching her arms and legs as she moved, and found the kindling there and started a fire.

Dougal and Jamie had been thorough in stocking this house for her use—the storage room below held weeks’ worth of food and supplies, a cistern fed fresh water through a pipe, and wood and peat stood waiting to be burned. She thought about the room above her head and felt her cheeks warm from a blush at the thought of the unusually-large bed with its plush furs and bedcovers that sat waiting there. Cat turned back and found him watching her every move.

“I will have some porridge ready soon,” she told him. This casual chatter would be difficult between them.

“So, you need me alive then?” he asked. His question was posed quietly, but it did not fool her—he was probing for information about her plans. Not that it surprised her.

Padruig had become laird a few years back and was accustomed to being in charge. He oversaw every aspect of the clan—its people, its farms, its lands and its future—and was considered, even by her father, to be one of the canniest men in Scotland. She tried to gather her thoughts and her arguments, but they remained scattered. Cat ignored him, or attempted to, and was being successful, in her attempts until he interrupted her again.

“I need to. . . .”

He paused and so she was forced to face him. With a few gestures he indicated his need to take care of a personal task and Cat found herself with the heat rising in her cheeks at the thought of such a thing. She found a pot and slid it over to him, turning back to cooking, blushing even more when the sound of it reached her. Worse, he whistled throughout it!

Cat focused on her task and soon the porridge bubbled in the cooking pot. She avoided looking over her shoulder at Padruig. Scooping some into two bowls, adding a spoon in each, and then pouring some watered ale in cups, Cat prepared the meal. As the eldest sibling in a large group of them, cooking was something familiar to her. Though he probably knew it not, she’d been cooking meals at the keep for months, bringing with her the favorite recipes of her mother and her mother’s mother and helping in ways that made her feel useful. . . especially since she was not fulfilling any wifely duties. She carried his bowl and cup over to him.

His grin was purely masculine, one that spoke of things left unspoken, one that dared her to meet his gaze, which she avoided while handling the rearrangement of the tray, the bowls, the cups. She removed the pot. Soon, he was eating and Cat sat in the chair doing the same. She understood that he would wait no longer for an explanation and that she had only the time it would take them to eat left to her.

Padruig could not help but grin. From fearing for his life to wondering what she would demand of him for his freedom, he’d thought on this situation all night. While she slept, he considered all or most of the possibilities and she had him puzzled. Her declaration the morning after they were wed, one that demanded he not trouble her again in that manner, set the pattern of their lives. If she had objected to his seeking a mistress, he would not have done so, but she showed no willingness towards an intimate relationship between them. He shifted his position on the floor and waited for her to finish.

Catriona blushed then, under his gaze, and he wondered what had made her done so now. He’d watched it happen the night before, just before he lost his temper, when she’d glanced at the stairs leading to the loft above. Thinking on his own reaction to the purely-decadent bed that lay waiting above them, he thought it must be that! Padruig finished his ale and put the cup and bowl back on the tray.

“So, now that I am fed and dry,” he said, enjoying the way she colored in reaction to his reference, “is it time to learn the truth of my fate?”

Catriona’s expression changed in that instant from one of indecision. His wife had grown up in these last months, under his constant watch. She did not know that he observed every move she made when they were together. She did not know that his family reported back to him about her activities, her health and even her unhappiness. Though circumspect in her words, he understood how she felt about her position within the clan and her reasons for remaining there.

Or at least he’d thought he knew until last night.

She glanced away and seemed to be struggling on the words to say, so he pushed a bit to get her started, realizing that they’d already spent more time alone together since his kidnapping than they had in the months since their wedding.

“You want a new husband.”

“I did not say a new husband,” she snapped back at him. “I said I wanted a husband.”

“You have a husband,” he replied. “Clearly you know who he is since you had him kidnapped.” He pushed himself to his feet and tried to cross his arms until the short length of chain stopped him. “Speak plainly, Cat,” he said. “Tell me why you did this and what will remove these chains.”

She startled at his words before speaking. Then he watched as she straightened her shoulders and stood, mirroring his own stance. But she could cross her arms.

“I find that our arrangement is not acceptable to me any longer, Padruig. I tire of being humiliated by your whore. I tire of being a wife, but not a wife,” she said softly.

He let out his breath, stunned by her admission. Of all the things he thought he would hear, this was not any of them! He fought to keep the smile from his lips for her words could mean several things. To gain more insight, he asked, “When did you decide this?”

She shrugged and shook her head. He thought she would answer, but she did not, turning away for a moment. Dear God! She brushed tears from her eyes. Even on that disastrous morning she had not cried. “It matters not.”

He recognized pride when he saw it and allowed her to keep hers. “So, you wish to end our marriage so that you can seek another?” He held out his hands with the chains. “Could you not simply have discussed this with me? Did you have to resort to violence?”

Padruig knew the moment he’d pushed her far enough, for the glimmer in her eyes was one he’d not seen before—pure anger. And he was much more adept at dealing with anger than with tears. “We both signed that marriage contract. We both are held to its clauses and both understand the cost of failure, Padruig. My father will not allow this marriage to be ended and neither will your clan—they, we, cannot afford the cost of it.”

He understood in that moment what she sought—she’d brought him here to deal with this privately between them. To save both their pride. “Agreed. So remove these and we will discuss this.” He held out his hands.

Padruig watched as she hesitated. “How do I know that. . . .” she began to ask. He interrupted her.

“How do you know that I will carry out my end of whatever bargain we reach? I give you my word that I will abide by whatever agreement we make here, Cat. As laird and as your husband.”

“Nay, that was not my meaning,” she whispered. She sighed and then met his gaze. “I brought you here so that I could see if I could keep the bargain I offer, Padruig.”

Confused now, but intrigued, he asked, “What are you offering? What do you seek from me if not an end to our marriage?”

“If you will rid yourself of that woman, I’ll return to your bed.”

Chapter Four

There. She’d said it. Boldly. Clearly. Cat had not planned to expose her own doubt about her abilities to carry out this plan, never a good idea when trying to bargain, but the words had slipped out.

Would he laugh at her now? Would he threaten ungodly punishments for her actions? She knew that he might do that when she began making plans and took pains not to allow anyone else to be revealed to him, so that she alone would bear his anger.

“Seana?” he asked, as though he had several to choose from. That thought gave her pause for mayhap he did have more than one.

“Aye,” she answered. “Unless there are more who I do not know about?”

He did laugh then, but she did not feel that he was jesting at her expense. It gave her confidence to stand her ground. But his next question shattered that.

“How do you propose to replace her? You made it clear on our wedding night that my touch—how did you say it?—caused feelings of revulsion within you.”

Damn but the man had committed her words to memory! He remembered nothing else she’d said but those? He was correct though, she’d said them and meant them, but being an innocent with no experience in the ways of passion, she had no idea of what to expect. The pain surprised her, as did many other things he did.

“I. . . I. . . .,” she could not find the words to explain. She shook her head. “This was a mistake. I knew it from the beginning,” she said, pacing back and forth. “It will not work and I would have been better never having considered such a foolish thing.”

Cat stood before the doorway—the nailed-shut-for-two-days doorway—and felt the weight of her misjudgments on her shoulders. If not for her pride, she would not be standing here, humiliated before him more than she'd ever been. And worse, now she had to wait another two days before Dougal and Jamie would come back to free them from this place. She shivered realizing that he would be extremely angry when his brothers returned here.

“I accept.”

The words echoed across the distance between them and, for a moment, Cat could not be certain she'd heard correctly. She turned to face him, surprised to find him observing her with a seriousness she'd not seen in his expression before.

“I accept your bargain, Cat.” He nodded to emphasize his words. “If you prove you can bear my touch and will agree to return to my bed, I will send Seana back to her family.”

It was everything she'd hoped for, but now what?

He must have read her thoughts for he held up his hands between them, rattling the chains and pointing out the first thing she must do. Her thoughts went blank when she tried to think of what she must do after that. Retrieving the key from where she'd hidden it, she began walking towards him. Padruig climbed to his feet waiting for her.

Panic was written in her eyes and in the frown that sat on her forehead. Padruig felt the need to ease her fears and allow her to keep her pride now that he understood more about what drove her to these daft actions. He'd allowed his pride to push her away and now he would have to bend to get her back. Though he was not usually the one to bend, he saw something in her eyes that promised such possibilities and such opportunities that he wanted to give her the chance.

“You have nothing to fear from me, Cat,” he said softly.

She shook her head and he watched as the loosened tendrils of hair glided around her face, making her look softer than he'd seen. Her hands shook as she reached out with the key to remove the chains. When the chains fell away from his wrists, he stopped her from stepping away, taking her chin in his hand and guiding her mouth to his. Her mouth softened beneath his and he heard her breathing quicken.

More importantly, she did not pull away.

Her success at this was not hers to prove—it was his. He should have known better that first night. He should have taken her gently and not let his anger over the marriage contract interfere with that first experience. He should have introduced her to the pleasures of the marriage bed. But, he had failed her that night.

Padruig would not fail her this time.

Reaching around her head, he did the thing he'd thought of doing so many times—he tugged the leather tie free and let her hair unwind from its braid. Sliding his fingers through it, he tugged her towards him, holding her close as he deepened the kiss. He tilted his head and possessed her mouth as he’d recently fantasized about doing. . . and he did it over and over until they were both breathless. She watched him through each kiss and Padruig saw disbelief deep within her blue eyes as her body reacted even before she understood.

But he understood and his body did as well, his cock hardening and lengthening and readying itself for what was to happen between them. The blood thundered through his veins, lust heating it and pushing it faster and hotter through him. He took in and released several deep breaths, needing his control so that this time removed all the memories of the last from her mind. Padruig held her face near his, kissing her more gently now, and sliding his other hand down along her neck and shoulder and skimming over the fullness of her breasts.

She gasped at the feel of such a caress.

Catriona waited for the inevitable as she enjoyed his kisses more than she had the first time. His tongue slipped into her mouth when she gasped and touched hers, sending shivers and chills throughout her body. As his hand moved away from her head and his fingers touched her breasts and then eased down over her belly, strange coils of tension began to twist deep within her. Just when she thought he would touch her there, he paused and kissed her more fiercely, before resting his hand on her hip.

Sensations unlike anything she’d felt raced through her blood and her heart and her body, urging her to move closer, to open to him and to this enticing heat that built from within her. When he stopped and lifted his head, she recognized merriment in his dark green eyes.

“Disgusted yet?” he asked in a deeper voice than usual. “Any revulsion or other loathing?”

He was jesting with her, but all she could think of was how different his touch was this night, how pleasant, nay, pleasurable it was compared to their first night. If she’d felt these kinds of sensations that night, the last four months would not have been wasted and empty.

“Nay,” she said, shaking her head and laughing gently. “None yet.”

The expression that filled his eyes then made her lose her breath, for it was hot and lustful and aimed at her. Could this truly work between them? Padruig dipped his head closer and kissed her again. She liked his kisses and allowed him to repeat that melding of their mouths again and again. Her body grew heated and wet between her legs and a strange and wondrous ache began to throb there, too. The urge to rub against him and the hardness of his strong body grew and she felt herself arch against him.

Before she knew what he was about, he’d scooped her up in his arms and began climbing the stairs to the loft. She wanted to ask him so many things but the feelings racing through her pushed all her questions and doubts aside as she allowed him to carry her towards that scandalous bed.

Daylight entered the chamber from the small windows all around the perimeter of the room. Not so large that anything could fit through them, but large enough to allow a good flow of light inside the loft, these windows made it possible to see him as he laid her on the bed and loosened his clothing. Tempted to look away, his command, or rather his demand, surprised her yet again.

“Look at me, Cat.”

She did, watching as his strong hands unbuckled his belt and then dropped it at his feet. His tunic and trews followed, even his boots and hose, until he stood naked before her. She felt the heat rising in her cheeks as she watched his body react under her gaze. Cat followed the dark thatch of hair down his chest, past his belly and then to where his manhood rose from the curls, proving his readiness to join their bodies. She swallowed and then swallowed again, fighting the fear that tried to replace the heat in her.

“Trust me, Cat.” This time his words were spoken softly, a plea more than an order and it warmed her. She nodded, though truly not certain she could.

* * *

Padruig knelt beside her, watching as her eyes widened and as her gaze flitted to touch on his cock and then away. She’d seemed to enjoy kissing so he eased her back and touched their mouths together. Tasting and teasing her lips and tongue, he waited until she panted before touching any other place on her body.

Though he wanted to touch her everywhere at once.

He almost forgot how innocent she was. He almost forgot the last four months. But when she reached out and boldly wrapped her hand around his hardened flesh, he forgot to breathe and forgot how to think at all. Trying to distract himself from the arousing caress so that he did not disgrace himself, he began loosening the ties of her tunic and undergown and leaned down to suckle on her now-exposed breasts.

Had they always been this full? Had the nipples been this enticing rosy shade that night too? Their joining had been quick and accomplished in the dark, giving him no opportunity to savor her beauty or her lush womanly curves. This time it would be different for both of them. When she arched against his mouth as he took the tip of her breast into his mouth, he swirled his tongue around it until it pebbled tight and hard.

The gasps turned to moans, his and hers, as they teased each other with tempting kisses, arousing caresses and the need to join their bodies together. When he felt the readiness of her body and the heat and wetness between her legs, he eased on top of her, spreading her legs with his body and rubbed the center of her arousal until he felt her body begin to tremble. Then, he pressed his hardness deep inside her, inch by inch, allowing her body to adjust as he filled her to her core.

The sounds she made drove him insane with the need to claim her, to bring her to completion now, one that he’d not accomplished that first night, and one that he could not fail to accomplish this time. Easing back out until only the tip of his cock remained within her flesh, he thrust deeper and deeper, feeling her flesh tighten around his, increasing his hardness and readying him to spill his seed there.

Cat could not believe the way her body felt in this moment. Not invaded or violated, but filled with his flesh until they were one. He urged her towards something with whispers and words and caresses and his body until hers responded in kind, rippling from where he thrust, sending waves and waves of indescribable pleasure through her, body and soul. Her muscles tightened, that tension building deep within sprang loose and she moaned out even as he spilled his seed. Her flesh responded, softening and opening, giving over to his complete possession. When she came back to herself, he lay on her, panting softly in her ear. Padruig eased off her, drawing her into his embrace and yet remaining within her at the same time.

She lay silent in his arms, listening to the steady beat of his heart and trying to understand all that had happened between them. He kissed her forehead as he eased out of her body and the place there ached with an emptiness she did not know she could feel. Had she pleased him enough to make him give up Seana though? She feared asking him anything that would mar the wondrous satisfaction that filled her in that moment. Still though, she wanted to know. But before she could ask him, he spoke.

“Did you prove it to yourself, Cat? Can you find pleasure in my bed?” He turned on his side and touched her cheek, drawing her gaze to his. “Will you return to my bed and be my wife in all ways?”

Catriona understood the cost of his question to his pride. He was admitting his part in the debacle that had sent them down this path of separation and unhappiness. Padruig was giving her a chance at fulfillment and happiness. . . and mayhap even love.

“Aye, if you’ll have me, Padruig.”

He smiled and her heart raced at the beauty of it—the masculine angles of his face eased at her words and his dark green eyes sparkled in reply. Still, there was one matter than needed to be clarified between them.

“And Seana?”

He laughed then, kissing her on the mouth quickly before nodding. “She left a sennight ago, Cat.”

Catriona sat up, gathering her garments around her and shook her head. “You sent her away? Why?”

Padruig pushed up to sit next to her, quite at ease with his nakedness. “I had this foolish notion to ask my wife to return to my bed. I would have, but I was kidnapped before I could discuss it with her.”

“You jest!” she said, unsure if she could or should believe his words. “You mean none of this was necessary?” She’d risked so much, not the least of which was his brothers’ relationship with him as brother and as their laird if he discovered their involvement in her plot.

“Not necessary but, besides the ambush, quite enjoyable,” he said, laughing. He grew serious then and stared at her intently. “Did it please you, Cat? Did I please you this time?” Had it not been obvious to him? She’d melted in his embrace, her body played by his touch and his hands and his mouth. As though she’d spoken the words aloud, he continued. “What happened between us that first night should never have happened. Will you be able to put it behind us and forgive me?”

Tears burned in her eyes but she dashed them away. She nodded, believing for the first time that they did have a chance at happiness together, something completely unthinkable just days before. He kissed her, pulling her close and holding her to him.

“When will Dougal and Jamie return to free us?”

Cat drew back, surprised at his words. Did he know or was he seeking out information? His mischievous smile told her that he did indeed know.

“In two days,” she answered, watching his expression change into something dark and enticing and wicked.

“Time enough to begin. . . .” he said, as he began kissing not just her mouth but her neck and then her shoulders and then. . . and then. . . .

By the time his brothers arrived two days later, she could not move a muscle. His possession of her body complete and that of heart begun, she almost wished she’d told them to wait three days before returning.

Chapter Five

With the excuse of seeking out the good wine from the storage room below, Padruig pulled on his trews and climbed down the stairs to that chamber. Instead of heading for the barrel of wine, he sought the hidden door behind a storage trunk. Making his way through the tunnel and along the stream, he climbed up to the path and returned to the front of the house where his brothers waited.

Giving no warning, he grabbed and tossed Jamie to the ground and then managed to land a solid punch to Dougal’s jaw before they realized he was there. The feel of it was satisfying, for he was certain that Dougal had been the one who sent him to his knees during the kidnapping.

“What the hell?” Dougal said, rubbing his face.

“That was for agreeing to carry out her foolish plan without telling me about it,” Padruig said. Dougal shrugged as though kidnapping your brother and laird was a commonplace thing.

“Did it work?” he asked. “That’s all I want to know.” He crossed his arms over his chest and angled his head while waiting for Padruig to answer.

“Come back in two more days and I’ll tell you,” he answered. Those were all the words he was willing to say right now.

“I was right, Padruig. Just admit it,” Dougal pushed.

Padruig did not answer. Instead he walked away, retracing his path back to the tunnel. He heard his brothers laugh as he did, but he cared not. The entire clan would know soon enough that he’d claimed his bride, even if it was four months late.

After entering the storage room and finding the wine, he climbed back up to the loft with it. Cat lay as he’d left her—replete and exhausted from his attentions. A purely male sense of satisfaction filled him now as well, knowing that he’d seen to her pleasure countless times already and would again now that they had two more days of privacy away from the world.

As he climbed onto the wide surface of the bed, she stirred, reaching out and resting her hand on his stomach as he moved closer. He stirred, well his flesh did, and she welcomed him between her thighs with a delicious sigh he was coming to crave. When they could speak again, Cat reminded him that his brothers would arrive soon. Unwilling to confess that he could have escaped her at any time, Padruig smiled and suggested that he remain kidnapped for two more days.

But it was four more days before the laird and lady returned to their keep.

Together.

* * * * * * * * * *

Terri Brisbin has been writing romance fiction since 1995 and has more than 25 historical and paranormal romance novels, novellas and short stories published since then. When not living the glamorous life of a romance author in the southern NJ suburbs (or lusting after Gerard Butler), Terri spends her time being a wife to one, mom to three as well as a dental hygienist to hundreds.

A National Readers’ Choice Award finalist, three-time RWA RITA® finalist, and winner of the NJRW Golden Leaf and Desert Rose Golden Quill, Terri is now working on more romance novels and novellas for release through 2012 from Harlequin Historical and Kensington Brava. You can visit her website for more info about the author and her work or to contact her: www.terribrisbin.com

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Also available from Terri Brisbin:

His Enemy’s Daughter

A Storm of Pleasure

The Mercenary’s Bride

A Storm of Passion

The Conqueror’s Lady

Upcoming releases from Terri Brisbin:

What the Duchess Wants, April 2011

Mistress of the Storm, July 2011

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Copyright © 2011 by Theresa S. Brisbin w/a Terri Brisbin

KIDNAPPING THE LAIRD copyright 2011 by Theresa S. Brisbin. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented without the express written permission of Theresa S. Brisbin.

Originally published in the Mammoth Book of Scottish Romance.