Kidnapping the Laird

“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.