Tòmas sipped his ale and shrugged. "I wagerthe dagger will turn up. Whoever stole it—if he is a Lindsay—cannotwear it about because he'll ken Mairiana will recognize it and tellyou. The thief will no doubt sell it. You'll have to visit all thearms shops in the Perth area and farther east perhaps."
Dread weighed heavily on him and he releaseda tired breath. "It could take months to find it." If he everdid.
***
After eating a supper of delectable, flakyHighland pie, stuffed with tender fowl meat, carrots, parsnips andonions, and a strawberry tart for dessert, Camille soaked in thetub of lavender-scented hot water before the small fireplace.Although these two indulgences didn't make up for the barbarous wayDugald had abducted her, it was a start. Relishing how the heatabsorbed into her sore muscles, she sighed.
When she thought back on their hasty rideinto the Highlands, it was mostly a blur of beautiful, wildlandscapes and a scowling Dugald. He had seemed surprised that shewasn't Chief Lindsay's wife, even though she had told him countlesstimes. Maybe he would listen to her in the future.
After their little argument in the strawberrypatch, one thing became clear to her—when she'd ridden before himin the saddle, essentially in his lap, she'd felt how hard he was.This, in turn, had provoked her own desires, completely against herwill. And, of course, she hadseenhow worked up he wasearlier, just after he'd stripped the wet clothing from her.Sacrebleu, he was too virile for his own good.
She did not want to be attracted to theoutlaw. 'Twas merely because he was a handsome, fit male, and shewas a female who had been too long without a man. At twenty-fouryears of age, she was no inexperienced virgin. She'd had a brieftryst with a young man in France more than two years before. Andwhy not? Being the illegitimate daughter of a French nobleman, shewas not considered ideal wife material among the aristocracy. Nordid she need to be. Her father had left her enough inheritance tosupport herself.
Despite her high hopes, she'd found notantalizing Scotsman while in this country for a tryst… or more. Ofa certainty, she had met many fine-looking men—Lachlan's friends,Dirk and Rebbie, for instance—but none of them had truly shown aninterest in her. Now, the first handsome Scot she'd discovered whowas attracted to her… and he was a kidnapper and a ruffian.
But when he'd finally accepted that he'dabducted the wrong woman, a different light had entered his eyes. Amore soulful look of regret, almost crestfallen as if he weredisappointed in himself. The cocky laird had been taken down a fewnotches. Although she did not know this side of Dugald well, shehad a feeling she might like it better than his conceited side.
***
The next morn, Dugald awoke long afterdaybreak. Aye, he was the chief so he was allowed to sleep in whenit suited him. After riding for two days, and having gotten littlesleep between times, he had slumbered like the dead last night. Hetold Geordie to bring him a bath along with his breakfast. Oncethose were taken care of, he headed downstairs.
He met his lady captive in the corridor. Eventhe dimness of the cloudy morn could not diminish the brilliance ofher bonny blue eyes. Her hair had been braided and styledperfectly, but this only made him want to take the pins out, runhis fingers through the silken strands, and dishevel her onceagain. And the rose colored dress she wore—no doubt one ofMairiana's cast-offs—fitted to Camille's lush curves perfectly.
"Did you sleep well last night?" he asked,wondering what he should call her—Camille, m'lady,madame,mademoiselle, lass?
"Oui. Are you going to take me hometoday?"
"Nay. Not today."
"Why not?" Temper flared in her eyes like ablue flame… lighting the fuse of his arousal. "You know Lindsaywill not bring your dagger. He doesn't even know me," she said. "Iam of no use to you."
Dugald did not ken that at all. She might bevery useful to him, but in a far different way. She was stunninglybeautiful. And although the strawberry juice no longer stained herlovely lips, he still craved a taste of them. Need curled throughhim, tantalizing him to act on these maddening urges which had nearclaimed his sanity the day before. She had told him countless timesthat she was unmarried.
"Who is your husband?" he asked, just to becertain, before he did something he might regret.
"I told you! I am not married!" She groundthe words out in a strong French accent, intensifying hiscraving.
He believed her. And thank the saints she wastelling the truth, for he did not think he could resist her muchlonger.
"Why are you looking at me like this,monsieur?"
"Like what?"
She returned his stare, her eyes growingdarker. She was bold, and he liked that.
"I think you know," she murmured.
Her words tugged at him, dared him to doexactly what he wanted.
With a swift movement, he slipped one handaround her neck, drew her to him, and captured her lips with hisown. Damnation, but she still tasted of strawberries. Had she eatenthem for breakfast, too? So sweet and delicious that he wanted toconsume her utterly.
Her small hands fisted in the plaid crossinghis chest, drawing him closer. When she opened her mouth andallowed him inside, he grew so hard he felt lightheaded. He neededher. Now! Still kissing her, he lifted her off her feet, carriedher into his chamber and kicked the door closed.
She gasped and pushed away from him. "Whatare you about,monsieur?"
He released her, enjoying her dazedexpression. Aye, she looked near as stirred up as he was, her faceflushed, her blue eyes darkened. "I think you know," he said,throwing her words back at her with a smile.
"I am not a whore, sir!"
