Page 3 of Kidnapped By a Highland Shadow

Arran clenched his jaw. Yes, there was a problem. What Stewart was proposing could easily get Arran killed. It was dangerous for a Stewart clan member to so much as set foot on McTavie land, let alone someone like Arran, to venture right into the heart of that land. That was before one even started to think about the kidnapping element of the plan. There were a thousand things that could go wrong, and even a single mistake could mean Arran’s painful, prolonged death.

But this was Laird Stewart. He was not a man one said no to. Arran had become one of Stewart’s most trusted men and had outlasted many younger men. He hadn’t made it this far by refusing assignments.

“No, sir. There’s no problem.” Arran answered. “What do we do when we have her?”

Stewart sat back in his chair, looking immensely self-satisfied. “We tell McTavie that we have the girl. Even if he has no fatherly feeling for the brat, she’s too valuable to let go, and he’s got his reputation to think of.”

Arran nodded. One simply couldn’t hurt, kidnap, or kill a clan laird’s family member without serious repercussions. It was a matter of honor, and from an avowed enemy like Laird Stewart, it would be an unbearable insult.

However, the girl was McTavie’s only child. His only heir. Aside from the fact McTavie would need to give her to some warrior or suitable man to carry on his line, this girl was his blood and currently irreplaceable.

“So, he’ll try and get her back. Then what? He’ll still come for revenge.”

Stewart smiled. “We lure him here, under the pretense of diplomacy. Then we kill him and whatever warriors he’s brought along with him.”

“What about the girl?”

Stewart blinked, seeming a little taken aback. “What about her? She’ll be dead long before McTavie gets here. Once he knows we have her, we won’t need to keep her alive for much longer. It’ll tidy things up a little. I hate loose ends.”

Stewart picked up the discarded pen and abruptly bent over his account papers again. It was clear that the conversation was over, and Arran was dismissed. There would be no more questions, no discussion. Arran had received his orders, and that was that. He silently turned on his heel and walked away, boot heels ringing out on the stone flags.