Logan laughed, slapping a hand over his belly, and she wondered how such a jovial man came to work for someone as infuriating as her kidnapper.
“As much as I would like to see that, I would advise against it, miss,” he said, grinning widely.
“Why?” she asked, frowning and folding her arms. “Will he hit me back?”
She wouldn’t be surprised if he would do that, considering he hadn’t even considered her reputation when he had tossed her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and touched her without a care for propriety.
“Nay,” Logan answered, looking horrified by the prospect. “The Laird will never hit a woman.”
She eyed him sceptically.
“I only advise against it because ye would hurt yer hand if ye did so,” he added. “Trust me, I speak from experience.”
His words were spoken in such a deadpan manner that she laughed before she could stop herself, and he joined in, clearly relieved.
She felt a hot tingle on the side of her face and turned her head, only to find the Laird looking at her. She shot him a glare and turned her head away.
Annoying oaf.
When she escaped him, she would definitely be making some much-needed changes to her life, and that included submitting to the authority of men who were too weak to protect her when it mattered.
Indeed, she would rid herself of her loyalty for propriety’s sake and choose to do all the things she had been held back from doing.
She could picture it now.
“I’m nae sure I like the sharp look on yer face,” Logan muttered beside her.
She had almost forgotten about his presence.
“I have no idea what you’re referring to,” she lied, turning to him with a pout.
He smiled as though he didn’t believe her, but he didn’t pry. Instead, he said, “I ask that ye forgive the Laird for takin’ ye the way he did. He isnae one to bring innocents into his war, but this time, he was desperate. His daughter was taken by that man. Surely, ye can understand that it is nay easy thing to ignore.”
She could understand that, considering how she wished her own father would have fought for her as fiercely as this laird seemed to be fighting for his daughter.
She eyed him again as he worked at building a fire in the middle of the camp, and respect crawled into her heart upon seeing the lines of worry etched into his brow.
He was a good father, that much she could appreciate, even if he did kidnap her. For how much of a brigand he appeared to be, it seemed he was capable of caring for someone.
Still, it wouldn’t be enough to change her mind or deter her from her plan to escape.
If she could find her way to the main road, then she would be able to find help at one of the towns they had passed by.
Those thoughts kept her company while she watched the bustle of the camp die down as night began to fall. Her sleeping area was close enough to the fire to keep warm, but far enough from the men so that her dignity was maintained, and it gave her ample view.
She pretended to sleep while counting the minutes in her mind, until there was naught but the sound of snores and the cries of owls to be heard.
Risking a bold move, she lifted her head to survey the camp, checking if any eyes remained open. Seeing none, she sat up. Taking care to avoid any branches that could snap, she moved toward the outer edges of the camp, and once she was sure she was out of earshot, she quickened her steps.
Her heart thudded as freedom loomed in the distance. It was startlingly cold in the woods, but she couldn’t complain, not when she could imagine the outrage on the Laird’s face when he woke and found her missing.
She was about to break for a run when a large figure stepped into her path, and before she could stop herself, she collided with it. Their collision was hard enough to send them both toppling to the ground.
She fought hard to stand, but he rolled and pinned her beneath him. She opened her mouth to scream, but a hand came over her mouth. She bit down on it, happy when he pulled away with a pained grunt.
“Why do ye insist on being so feral, lass?” a familiar voice complained.
“Laird McLeod?” she asked, confused.
