Page 317 of Wicked Highland Heroes

“How much taking goes on here?”

Maude gave her an odd look. “He married her.”

“And she went willingly?”

“Aye, and why not?”

Victoria remarked softly, “Why not, indeed?”

* * *

After a light supper of pheasant, peas, bread, and wine, a bathtub as fine as any Victoria was accustomed to arrived. Maude instructed the girl Nellie to assist with the bath while she seated herself at the table located between bed and hearth. The housekeeper’s benign smile didn’t fool Victoria. Behind the woman’s soft manner beat the heart of a hunter.

“You must be tired after such a journey,” Maude said. “How long did you travel?”

“Four days.”

Nellie knelt beside the tub and began soaping her hair.

“Did you enjoy the fine weather?” the housekeeper asked.

Victoria nodded.

“Though we do not like to admit it,” Maude said in a confiding tone, “even the summers here can be a might cold.”

Such comments went on and exhaustion edged its way past thoughts of captivity and freedom.

“I expect you will sleep better in this bed than you did in Iain’s arms,” Maude said.

Victoria bolted upright. Water sloshed over the top of the tub.

Nellie shot to her feet. “Look what you did!” She shook out her wet skirts.

“’Tis only water,” Maude recriminated before focusing on Victoria. “Is something wrong?” she asked, causing Victoria to wonder how many more times she would be forced to hear that infernal question before anyone understood being forced into captivity was what was wrong.

Victoria pursed her lips, but Maude’s expression didn’t waver. Victoria hesitated, pride warring with the knowledge that news of her arrival would be idle gossip before morning—along with lewd speculation of the four days spent with Iain MacPherson. A new thought surfaced. If she told the truth of how he kidnapped her, might there be others as outraged as she?

What would they think of his tenderness? Victoria startled at the unbidden memory of how he’d held her after killing the unluckiest of her attackers. Gone was the fury he’d unleashed on the man, in its place a gentle touch that was as different from their violent treatment as light was from day. Her jaw tensed. That part of the tale would remain untold. He had taken her against her will. No need of comfort would have been necessary had he left her in peace. Despite the quiver in her stomach, Victoria took a deep breath and began the tale.

Twenty minutes later Maude gave into the laughter she had obviously been grappling with from the beginning of the story, and Victoria wondered if all MacPhersons were afflicted with some sort of mental deficit.

“You mean he just rode off with you?” Nellie asked, wide-eyed.

Victoria tensed with the memory of her failure to secure freedom. “’Twasn’t so easy for him.” “What do you mean?” Maude asked.

“I spurred his horse on.”

“You incited the beast?” Maude asked in astonishment.

Victoria nodded. “I did not wish to go with him.”

“I do not understand,” Nellie said. “If the laird asked me to go, I would, and without a peep.” “Nellie,” Maude said.

“Well, ’tis the truth,” the girl replied. “Not a woman alive would refuse him.” “Enough,” Maude said.

“Faith, but the man is mad,” Victoria muttered.

“Mad?” The housekeeper’s brow rose in question.