“But I am sure ye have a long list of transgressions that would be considered as evil as witchcraft.”
A hearty laugh escaped the laird. “May the Almighty have mercy upon yer future husband. Or should I say ye, for that tongue will need taming, lass.”
“Me mam didna raise me to be an idiot.”
“Nay, I’m sure she didna,” he said quietly.
“What crimes am I guilty of, Laird MacKay?”
“Disobedience. Seduction. Chaos.”
“Chaos isna a crime.”
“Neither is seduction, unless it goes against the goodwill of the people.”
“I havena met many of yer people. Per yer orders, of course.”
The MacKay slapped his hand on the table, clearly displeased by her ongoing retorts. “Ye will humble yerself and accept responsibility for being an unruly lass—publicly apologize at the feast in the great hall tonight and submit yerself to me and yer future husband.”
“And if I do this?”
“Ye will spend the next three days at peace in company with yer sister.”
“I have yer word?”
“If ye need it.”
“And me father? How do ye know he will accept this?”
“Leave Thomas Bane to me, lass. His time of power is waning.”
…
Adam woke to a violent swaying motion and his head pounding like he’d been drunk for a week. Aye, a hell of a headache, but not bad enough to keep him from sitting up and realizing he was in the back of a horse-drawn cart bound for some godforsaken place.
The last thing he remembered was searching for Kali after she had disappeared in the woods, and something smashing into the back of his head…
“Fook!” Kali. Everything he cared about and loved. He looked about him, piles of sweet dry hay and an unknown lass huddled in the corner, staring wide-eyed with fear at him.
“Who are ye?” he demanded.
“Moira MacDonald.”
“MacDonald? Why am I here with ye? And who is driving this cart?”
“Me father and brother,” she whispered.
His mouth felt unnaturally dry and he licked his lips, plagued by thirst, “Drink,” he said. “I need a drink of something, anything.”
He spied a wineskin in the hay next to her. “Give me that.”
She reached for it and hugged it to her chest.
“Give me the skin, lass.”
“Nay,” she said. “If ye drink this concoction, it will put ye back to sleep.”
“Ye drugged me? Why?”
