My Lady Captor. Hannah Howell

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СКАЧАТЬ as he eased his aching body into a seated position. “Most of my pain has eased, and my wounds already begin to close.”

      “True, but ye are still weak.” Beatham made himself comfortable at the foot of the big bed.

      “It willnae be long before I have the strength to crawl out of this vulture’s nest.”

      “Vulture’s nest? Come, Cousin, ’tis not so verra bad here. I ken that being held for ransom isnae something to be enjoyed or wished for, but the women here seem verra nice.”

      “They are all quite thoroughly mad, their wits scattered to the four winds like thistledown.”

      “Margaret’s wits arenae scattered.”

      “Margaret simply lacks enough wit for it to be scattered.”

      “Here now, ye shouldnae speak of her in such a scornful manner.”

      “Cease acting the outraged suitor, ye great dolt, and cut me some bread and cheese.”

      “Weel, ye still shouldnae speak that way about Margaret,” grumbled Beatham as he moved to obey Ruari’s command.

      Ruari studied his young cousin for a moment, taking careful note of the youth’s sulky expression. Beatham was a good-hearted lad, but his fair looks far outweighed his intelligence. He had thought Beatham sneaking off to battle, despite all orders to the contrary, was a problem, but realized that it was a petty nuisance compared to the trouble he could see his cousin courting now. As he chewed on the plain but hearty fare of bread and cheese, he watched Beatham retake his seat.

      “Ye can cease wooing that lass,” he said bluntly, his suspicions confirmed when Beatham blushed.

      “She is equal in birth to me,” Beatham protested. “And she doesnae push aside my attentions.”

      “I dinnae care. Ye arenae to get yourself entangled with a Hay.”

      “And why not?”

      “It appears ye have forgotten that she is one of those who hold us for ransom.”

      “’Twas her cousin Sorcha’s idea, not Margaret’s, and she must obey Sorcha just as I must obey you.”

      “Aye, and ye do that so weel, too.” He held up his hand when Beatham began to protest. “Dinnae trouble yourself to explain your disobedience. Your rushing to the battle despite my orders that ye stay at Gartmhor is the least of my concerns. Ye are to cease playing love games with Margaret Hay for many reasons. She is poor, and your family cannae afford ye making a match for love or passion alone. By taking us prisoner and demanding money for our lives, the Hays have destroyed what meager chance they may have had of making any marriage with the Kerrs. And your lass’s heart will surely go cold when I exact my revenge for this insult.”

      “Ye dinnae mean to go to battle with the Hays, do ye?” Beatham demanded, going a little pale.

      “Nay, but there is little else I will try. I willnae let this affront pass without some revenge. I cannae.”

      “But, Cousin—” Beatham began, only to jump to his feet when the door opened. “Margaret.”

      Margaret frowned as she strode over to Beatham and grasped his arm. “Ye shouldnae be in here. I was verra worried when I looked into your room and ye werenae there.”

      “Did ye think your full purse had fled?” Ruari drawled, earning a cross look from Beatham.

      “He isnae weel enough to be out of his bed. He suffered quite a blow to his head and could easily grow faint.” She started to tug Beatham toward the door. “Ye shouldnae have him in here, Sir Ruari. ’Tis most inconsiderate of you. Ye should have more sympathy for Beatham’s injuries.”

      “Er—actually, Margaret, I came in here of my own accord,” Beatham said.

      “Then he should have had the sense and kindness to order ye back to your bed.”

      Beatham fought Margaret’s pull long enough to say good-bye to Ruari. For a long moment after the door shut behind his cousin and Margaret, Ruari stared at it in amazement, then shook his head. It was a shame Margaret was poor and a member of Sorcha Hay’s family. She and Beatham made a perfect match, he decided, and laughed softly. They would undoubtedly have the most beautiful and the most witless children in all of Scotland.

      Ruari finished the last of his cider and was just wondering how or when he would get more when Sorcha arrived. She shouldered the door open, her hands full with the heavily ladened tray she carried, then kicked it shut behind her. He watched her closely as she took away the empty ewer and tray and replaced it with a full one. Despite his efforts not to, he thought about the kiss they had shared earlier and felt his whole body tighten with an eagerness to enjoy another one.

      “So, your young cousin came by to visit, did he?” she asked as she gathered a bowl of water, a cloth, and bandages to clean and redress his wounds.

      “Aye. Your cousin dragged him away not an hour ago.” He bit back a curse as she eased off his bandages. “Any sign of poisoning in the wounds?”

      “Nay. Everything appears to be healing swiftly and nicely.” Trying to be gentle, yet knowing there was no way to avoid causing him some pain, Sorcha bathed his wounds. “Within a few days the stitching can be removed.” She sighed and shook her head. “There will be scars, although I believe my stitching will prove good enough to make them neat and, mayhap, less noticeable than they might have been otherwise.”

      “Your healing skills are to be admired.”

      “Thank ye,” Sorcha muttered, his tone making it clear that she had very little else he considered admirable.

      “I will soon be returned to my full strength.” As soon as she rebandaged the last of his wounds, he started to sit up, reluctantly accepting her assistance.

      “And then ye mean to try to escape.” She poured him a tankard of cider. “’Tis what ye and young Beatham discussed whilst he was here, was it not?”

      “Nay.” He smiled faintly. “We didnae have the time. Your cousin arrived to drag Beatham away ere we could make any plans. I did, of course, advise him against succumbing to your cousin’s lures and wiles.”

      “Did ye? I advised her to stand strong against his attempts to seduce her.” She was pleased to see that her slur on Beatham annoyed him as much as his insult to Margaret did her. “Ye shouldnae waste your strength trying to plot an escape. Ye willnae be here much longer.”

      “Have ye finally come to your senses and decided to stop this dangerous game?”

      “I wouldnae call sending ye home without collecting a ransom, thus allowing the English to cut my brother’s throat, coming to my senses.”

      Knowing that she would not fight him, at least for a while out of fear of damaging his wound, Ruari grabbed Sorcha by the arm and pulled her close. Once she felt he was healed enough to endure a little rough treatment, he knew he would not get ahold of her so easily. He intended to use his advantage to its fullest while he still held it. The annoyance darkening her deep brown eyes made him smile, for lurking behind it was the passion he had so briefly tasted earlier.

      “I СКАЧАТЬ