The coachman gulped. “The… soldiers may have told them before… they were killed.”
“Blasted sons of whores!” Commander Pierce let go of the coachman, and the smaller man staggered before he composed himself. He reached into the leather pouch around his waist. “I was given-”
Peter drew his sword preemptively.
“Stand down,” Commander Pierce ordered, and the coachman gulped before his hand continued its task. He brought out a bunch of Jane’s hair and presented it to the commander. “Laird Alistair ordered me to give this to you as proof. He wants… to exchange your bride-to-be… for his brother.”
Commander Pierce took the hair and brought it to his nose. He sniffed it twice and proceeded to nuzzle it. Then, he seemed to remember that he had company and placed it on the table. He placed a goblet on top of it to prevent it from flying away.
“Perhaps, Commander,” Peter said, “we should accept the proposal so your wedding can go on as pl-”
“Never!” the Commander said. “I would then have no advantage over the clan. The plan was always to lure the laird with his brother and then kill them both.”
“We can still manage to overpower the clan. We almost did it once before.”
“We cannot overpower them if they still have a laird. To weaken them, we must make them headless. We will kill them off like flies. We shall extinguish them. And then the King shall grant me any favor of my choosing. The plan was perfect. Until they ruined it!” He threw another goblet against the wall.
“Commander?” the coachman said tentatively.
“Speak!”
“They came from the west of the main trail. And one of them was commanding the others. Must have been the laird himself.”
The Commander smiled. It was so sudden, it put the coachman ill at ease. “If that is true, then he is not in his castle. For him to have launched an attack that swiftly, he must have been monitoring the trail. We can still catch the bastard. Get me a map of the area, Peter.”
Peter stood and walked to the corner of the office, where the maps were. He picked one, took it to the table, and unrolled it before Commander Pierce. “Watch the hair!” Commander Pierce shouted, and then proceeded to examine the map. “Point to where this capture took place!” he ordered the coachman.
The man bent over, squinted at the map, and finally pointed to a spot on it.
Commander Pierce straightened in satisfaction. He picked up a bell on his table, rang it, and then set it back down. He then ordered his right-hand-man to take two other soldiers to camp around the area that the kidnapping had taken place. They were to lie in wait for the laird and kill him if they came upon him. His plan, if Peter and the soldiers succeeded, was to order the rest of the clan to return Jane to him or watch him kill their laird’s brother.
Of course, he would kill the laird’s brother no matter what.
And he would kill the clan as well.
“Go now,” he said to Peter, and the younger man strode out of the door. The coachman still stood, examining a spot on his dirty boots.
“Well do you intend to live in my office, then?” Commander Pierce asked. The coachman shook his head quickly, bowed a little stupidly, and fled. Commander Pierce sighed. If not for the Scottish sons of whores, Jane would be here right now. He would be pressing into her flesh, marking her as his property forever. The imagery of Jane writhing beneath him engorged his member. He sent for relief. A few minutes later, three girls entered the room. The last one in shut the door behind her. One was a blonde, one a ginger, and the last a brunette. They sashayed over to the general in fluid movements, their hips swaying. The brunette had green eyes. Quite like Jane.
“Stop,” he ordered, and they paused. “I am too stressed for a foursome today.” He pointed to the brunette. “You. The rest of you, out.”
The rejected pleasuring girls stared at each other and then turned and walked out of the office, the swaying in their hips gone. The commander knocked the goblet standing on Jane’s hair over and grabbed the hair. “There,” he directed the brunette to the side of the table that was closest to the door. “Sit on the table,” he ordered the girl. “And spread your legs.”
CHAPTERSEVEN
Jane stretched out as she awoke, wiggling her bottom in the process. She felt something clamp down on her waist, and the sleep disappeared from her eyes.
“Stop it,” Alistair murmured in her ear, “or ye will awaken something that ye cannae feed.”
“You are a cad,” Jane said, her voice a little husky from sleep. “I cannot believe that, for a moment, I thought you were polite.”
“Stop talking,” he ordered.
“I will not!” she declared, her voice loud in the cave. Alistair clamped a hand over her mouth. “Listen!” he hissed.
She did. She heard masculine voices calling out for Alistair.
“I am here!” Alistair shouted back, got up, and bounded out of the cave. Jane stood up and followed. She saw the warriors that had accompanied them yesterday.
