Improper Seduction (21 page)

“Ye’ve no given me any time to press my suit, Mistress Newbury. Do me the favor of no looking so forlorn.”

She snapped her head about to discover Gordon watching her. He wasn’t mocking her now, but there was a deep consideration flickering in his eyes that warned her to be careful how much of her true feelings she allowed him to see. He was a man who would make the most of an opportunity.

“Ye’ll find me home quite comfortable, I assure ye.”

“Please do not think it is my nature to argue over every point, but I disagree with you.”

“Because Ryppon isnae inside? Dinna worry too much on that account, lass. I expect the man soon enough.”

Confusion crowded her thoughts. “What do you mean? I have no such confidence, nor have I given you any reason to believe he would chase me. I ran away from him and the vow I made to wed him. It is an insult that he does not have to suffer. He can easily find a more obedient bride.”

Gordon shrugged. “Well now, if the man doesna show his face soon, I’ll just have to marry ye myself.”

He offered her one of his grins again before kneeing his stallion and moving ahead to the front of his men. They cheered as he took his place among them, and the pace increased. They embodied the legend that she had so often heard about Scots. There was a wildness about them that was balanced by their homage to their laird and the plaids they wore that gave them enough order to not become lawless bandits.

That did not mean she wanted to marry their leader. In fact, the idea of wedding anyone save Curan sent a twist of nausea through her. She tried to remember her duty, but the attempt failed. Her passion was rapidly taking her past the discipline instilled by her mother. The longing to return to Curan was gaining ground inside her, becoming hotter and more uncontrollable.

But that was assuming a great deal. The man would be unlikely to welcome back any bride who had fled from him. His pride was most likely wounded too greatly for her to resume her role. There was also Lord Oswald to think about. Bridget suddenly felt tired. More weary than ever as Gordon’s men sent up a cheer and their leader took them through the open gate of his fortress. The castle was built of solid stone, and that fit her mood.

Cold and dead … exactly as she felt.

She wasn’t placed in a cell, or even in a chamber with a door that might be barred to keep her prisoner. Instead, Bridget discovered herself following two burly Scots through a maze of hallways and staircases. They kept her going in circles until she blew out a frustrated snarl and stopped, refusing to take another step.

“Enough of this game. I am confused. The only way I can think of to make it back into the yard is by slipping out a window. Are you satisfied?” They watched her from brooding expressions that didn’t give her a hint as to their thinking. Bridget shrugged.

“Well then, I have thought that the gossip I have heard concerning just how lazy Scottish men are was false. However, if you have naught better to do than lead me through hallways, I must rethink my opinion on that matter.”

“This way.”

The words were spoken with a great deal of irritation, but at least they led her to a destination instead of another set of hallways. This was an older portion of the castle, and the room she was in did not have doors. Of course, that was most likely the reason she was placed there. Candles burned in the center of the large round room, but the light did not allow her to see what was beyond the arched doorways. It was a solar, simply one floor built across the expanse of the keep. She was in one of the four that she had seen rising up to form Barras Castle. Arches surrounded her, helping to hold up the floor above her. In spite of the bed and furnishings that were present, she doubted that the solar was used very often. If it were, walls would have been built to create hallways, but such was more of a newer construction technique. This keep was just as it had been fifty years ago when it was expected that the surrounding villagers might need to take shelter inside it during a siege.

Having the dark arches ringing her was worse than any door. She felt placed on display. The candles illuminated her while the Scots withdrew behind the arches. She heard them walking sometimes and, as the day wore on, listened to them being relieved and replaced by others. There was no way to tell how many guards she had or where they were.

Nevertheless, that was not what weighed heavily on her mind. She walked over to one of the windows and leaned out. Greeting her were a hint of green on the hills and a little nip of chill blowing down from the north. She was too high to consider leaving the keep by the window, which left her with nothing to do but look down toward England, where Curan was most likely drawing up an offer for another bride.

Her heart ached, and there was no comfort to be found in knowing that she had done as instructed by her parents. A maid brought her food, but Bridget had little appetite. So she left it where the girl placed it. The day grew long with nothing but her own thoughts to keep her company. Always there had been work to occupy her hands. She suddenly did not understand how anyone might endure being lazy; it was quite irritating to have nothing to do. Bridget discovered herself pacing simply to have something to occupy herself with. Yet the true torment was the fact that her idle mind had naught to do save think about Curan.

“I thought ye had more spirit, lass. Me men tell me ye’ve been pacing and no eating. Are ye truly broken in so short a time?”

Bridget turned her head to discover Gordon watching her from one of the arched doorways that led into the solar she was occupying. She bit into her lower lip when she realized how happy she was to see him. She didn’t like knowing that one day of solitude had made her so hungry for companionship.

“If you prefer to hear me railing, then you shall have to learn to live with disappointment. The body does not require much nourishment when it is doing little.” She folded her hands neatly and offered him a mild expression. “I have no intention of becoming some type of amusement for your entertainment.”

“Och now, lass, would ye like to get down to that bit of the business right now then? I’ll be quite happy to show you what manner of entertainment I think ye can provide me with.”

Gordon was just as large as Curan, but for some reason he didn’t have the same impact on her. He moved too close, and she did not have any urge to back away from him. Her belly did not tighten, and no excitement rushed along her skin. Instead she simply watched him close the distance, but her boredom ended when he reached out to touch her. She lifted a hand quickly to slap the hand he tried to touch her with. The blow made a loud popping sound that drew a chuckle from her captor.

“You are quite out of line, sir.”

“I’m a Scot, I was never a well-behaved lad. Goes against the entire idea of being Scottish. You wouldn’t want me to be disloyal to me own country, now would ye?”

Moving away from him, Bridget turned to shoot a hard glare at him. “Somehow, I doubt that you are quite the marauder that you are attempting to act. I have never understood that being Scottish means you were raised with a lack of honor.”

He frowned and crossed his arms across his chest. She was beginning to realize that he did that when he was afraid that too much of his true feelings were on display.

“I will wed ye if it comes to that.” Instead of a threat, his words were more of a soothing promise. One that she found distasteful.

“To preserve my honor? Is that it? No, thank you.”

He shrugged and allowed his arms to relax. “I’ll admit that there’s a wee bit of me that would enjoy needling your English chancellor by taking a lass he thinks is his, but aye, I’d wed ye before seeing ye returned to a life of shame since I’m the one who brought ye here.”

“You may dispense with that concern. I shall weather the storm well enough.”

“Nay, lass. I know the world, and it’s a harsh, unforgiving place when it comes to an English lass who has been behind these walls.” He moved closer, and she had to resist the urge to retreat from him. Approval shimmered in his eyes when she stood still.

“If Ryppon does nae come for ye, the man is a fool, and I’ll be happy to take advantage of what he is dim-witted enough to let go unclaimed.”

He reached out and stroked her cheek. It was a simple touch, and she remained still while his fingers made contact with her skin. No rush of sensation resulted from the touch, only a mild enjoyment. Gordon tossed his shoulder-length hair back and laughed.

“I should keep ye anyway, just because that English lord is too fortunate by far to have earned such devotion from ye.”

“I am not devoted to him. My father arranged the match.” She turned in a snap of her skirt and offered him her back. “What you should do is return me to my father. That will gain you more from this bit of evildoing by my cousin.”

He clicked his tongue at her in reprimand. She began to turn, but he slid a hand around her body and pulled her back against his body in one quick motion. Bridget snarled and became a spitting bundle of resistance. Her flesh crawled with revulsion, making her struggles even more violent. She scratched and hit him without a care for the damage she inflicted. He released her with another mocking laugh.

“If ye are nae devoted to the man, why does my touch enrage ye, lass?”

“Because I am not some loose light-skirt slut, you mongrel! You insult me by trying your hand at me.”

“As ye insulted me so freely in front of yer cousin’s husband.”

That hard glitter appeared in his eyes.

“Oh, I see. You are repaying me, is that it?”

He shrugged. “Well, I suppose ye cannae be expected to understand the way respect keeps peace on me land. But it is a way of life for me. The moment I begin letting someone insult me is the day that a new challenge to my authority begins. Those most often end in bloodshed.”

“I see.”

“Do ye now?”

Bridget offered him a slight nod. “I can understand that our lives are very different and thereby require different actions.”

He grinned again, clearly amused by her response. Even knowing it, she still had trouble pushing her emotions down where he could not see them so easily.

“I’ll not be content to have any man’s hands on me who is not my husband. Yet that is no excuse for being surly this morning.”

At least her tone of voice cooperated with her resolve to maintain her dignity. Gordon lost his grin, his face becoming a firm mask of consideration.

“Is that why I hear that you spent most of this day looking toward England? Because ye’re longing to join the man ye fled from?”

Gordon snorted when her eyes narrowed at him, but she denied him any comment. The Scot shook his head.

“I ken, lass. I’m a stranger to ye and one that has taken ye in the hope of getting something for ye. There’s no foundation for trust between us. But I keep my word. Dinna fret that I’ll allow ye to return to England’s court. Ryppon will either give me what I want for ye, or I’ll take ye to the altar and we’ll find
a way to make the best of it. I can be a charming man when I put my mind to it.”

“Do not bother on my account, sir.”

He reached out quickly, succeeding in touching her cheek with two thick fingers before she jumped away.

“Och now, lassie, ye need to stop all that worrying.”

Don’t worry? The man had a misplaced sense of kindness if he believed he was putting her at ease. Still, it wasn’t his place to soothe her. She was a woman, not a lost girl.

“Lord Ryppon will not come for me. I cannot fathom why you believe he will. Best that you return me to my father and gain your recompense from him.” And she did hope the ransom was a dear one, for her father was beginning to wear her patience thin with all his demands. It seemed quite fair that someone else in her family should have to suffer as she was.

Gordon’s eyes lit with something that made her step back. A burning determination that she had seen in Curan’s eyes when he looked at her.

“He’d better show, because I’m nae in the mood to search for another way to get what I want from him.”

And it wasn’t her.

Bridget knew it. Somehow she sensed that the Scot wasn’t any more interested in wedding her than she was in marrying him. He wanted someone else, and the truth of that glittered in his eyes while she watched. “I wish you every success, and it is of course a relief to hear that this is truly not about me.”

He drew in a stiff breath and crossed his arms over his chest once again. His expression became hard. Clearly the man didn’t care to know that she had read his emotions.

“Good. Then I’ll no be hearing that ye refused yer supper. I dinna need to think I’m starving ye.”

The laird in him was talking now. Thick authority edged his
words, and his voice rose, ensuring his men heard him. He gave a soft grunt along with a solid nod of his head when he finished. Bridget merely stared back at him, content to let him have the last word.

Soothe the male ego
… Marie had clearly known what she was talking about.

A moment later he was gone in a swirl of plaid wool. Bridget suddenly felt chilled, as though she stood on the edge of a cliff just waiting to see if her balance would fail. The image was well founded for the future looked bleak.

Would
Curan come for her?

Doubt was cruel, and it sliced into her fragile hope. Gordon might believe she was smitten by Curan, but that did not mean Curan would shoulder the blow she had dealt him in fleeing. Which left her standing on the cliff, looking at the fall that would not kill her, but instead leave her suffering from her broken heart for too many years to endure.

“Synclair, you must not do this.” Justina tried to dig her feet into the floor, but her shoes slid easily across the stone surface.

The knight offered her no mercy. His hand was clamped about her forearm, pulling her along in spite of her resistance. He suddenly snorted and released her. Relief swept through her, but it was short-lived, for the man boldly swept her off her feet, cradling her against his chest. It shocked her because Synclair had always acted the perfect gallant, never ignoring chivalry. Holding her against his body was a direct violation of those ancient codes.