Thirsty, he stood and walked to the table where a pitcher of water and cups were always kept. As he poured himself a drink, he gazed at the bed. He loved to see Keely’s dark hair fanned out across the pillows when she slept. He liked to tangle his fingers in her silky tresses and get lost in her sweet scent while he thrust inside of her and made her sigh with pleasure. Maybe he should wake her up after all…
The bed was empty! He dropped his cup on the floor and rushed to the bedside.
“Fook!”
The guards banged on the door.
Alex hadna barred it yet.
“Graham. Neil. Get in here!”
The men stormed inside, took one look at him and the empty bed and knew immediately what to do.
“She takes the air sometimes,” Neil offered.
“Likes to sit by the loch, too,” Graham added.
“Where is Leah?” Alex seethed.
“I doona know, milord,” Graham answered.
“Find her. Find my bloody wife!”
The soldiers departed, leaving Alex alone.
The ale-induced fog in his mind was clearing quickly as anger took hold. The lass had done it again. Aye, she’d fooled him, and tricked her own sire, too. She wasna taking the air at the loch. Not at this time of night. The guards at the gates wouldna let her through. His instructions had been the same since the day of her arrival. His wife must have an escort at all times.
Glad he hadna undressed yet, he grabbed his boots, shoved his feet inside, and laced them up. Keely MacKay would regret the day she was born—the day she showed her face to him again. Damn him for falling for it, for believing she’d changed, for allowing himself to care about her.
Alex left his bedchamber and went to his mother’s old suite. He kicked the bloody door open, knowing already that he wouldna find his wife within. Empty. He turned and started banging on every door, including Laird Oliphant’s chamber. It took several moments, but the drunk laird threw the door open, his sword in hand.
“What is it, MacKay?”
Rage boiled over inside Alex as he stared at his wife’s sire—a reminder of who and what she was. Without thinking twice about it, Alex punched the man in the face.
Built as thick as a tree trunk, the force of the blow only made Laird Oliphant angry. He rubbed his jaw and narrowed his eyes. “Are ye mad, MacKay?”
“Aye—a raving lunatic.”
Keely’s sire grinned and came at Alex. His meaty fist connected with Alex’s gut.
Alex grunted and retaliated with a combination of punches. But Laird Oliphant was just as strong; he popped Alex in the mouth. Alex tasted blood, which only made him more determined to knock the fool out. This was his fault. Laird Oliphant had ruined his life by taking his daughter away from him the first time.
“Father! Alex! What are ye doing?” Broc wedged himself between them. “What is this about?”
Out of breath and shaking uncontrollably, Alex reached around Broc and boxed Laird Oliphant’s ear.
“Bod an Donais!” the laird hissed.
“Ye’re drunk idiots,” Broc said.
Jamie and several of the Oliphant guards finally pulled them apart.
Alex fought to get loose, but Jamie and Broc held on tight.
“What happened here?” Mathe asked. “Did Laird Oliphant attack ye?”
“Nay.”
