Page 42 of Kidnapped By a Highland Shadow

“Malcolm McTavie’s daughter. I was sent to kidnap her. I thought that you and all your spies would have picked up on that.”

“I thought she was a child.”

“Twenty-one, I reckon.”

Sierra pursed her lips. Arran could almost see her mind working, imagining him on a long, solitary trip through the forests with a beautiful young maiden, all distressed and helpless.

“I bet she liked you.”

He shrugged, trying to banish the memory of Pippia eagerly kissing him back, twining her fingers into his hair. “Not so much. I brought her here and kidnapped her, didn’t I?”

“Well, there’s something to be said for being kidnapped by a young, handsome man.”

Arran snorted. “Don’t be foolish, Sierra. You wouldn’t think like that if you were the one being kidnapped.”

“I wouldn’t be so stupid as to get myself into that situation in the first place.” Sierra leaned back, watching Arran speculatively. He finished his second ale and looked around for the innkeeper to order another.

“You are drinking a lot,” Sierra said. “You’re drinking it quickly, too. Simon here pours generous measures. It’s not like one of those places where the ale is half water. Slow down.”

“I’m thirsty.”

“I know you. When you’re thirsty, you drink water. You’re drinking to forget. Can it be… Oh! Oh my!” Sierra cackled a malicious laugh that cut Arran to the bone. She clapped her hands together in delight, and Arran flinched at the sharp sound. “You feel bad for delivering that lass to James. What is it? D’you fancy her?”

“No!” Arran shot back, knowing fine well that he wasn’t fooling anyone, least of all the sharp Lady Stewart.

Her smile widened, revealing pointed canine teeth. “You’re still a bad liar, Arran. How sweet. You really are a romantic, aren’t you? Maybe I’ll keep you around once I get rid of James.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Look.” Sierra leaned forward again, so close that her breath fanned across Arran’s cheek. She loaded her eyes with a seductive expression, full of promise and pleasure. “You’re wasting your time with that stupid lass. James has plans for her, and I know what those plans are.”

“Aye, he wants to get a ransom for her.”

“Oh, don’t be stupid, Arran. Where would that leave him? He has a chance to end McTavie’s line right here… Do you really think he’d let it slip away? He’ll either marry the lass or kill her.”

“He can’t marry her, he’s married to you.”

Sierra smiled wryly. “You’re very naive, Arran.”

Arran rallied. “He won’t kill her. He said he wouldn’t.”

“Aye, because he knew you’d never bring her to him if he was open about it.”

Arran opened his mouth to argue but found that there was nothing to say. He knew James Stewart, and he knew his slippery, ruthless ways.

How could he have been so foolish? He’d spent the whole journey here promising Pippia that she would be safe when he was delivering her to her death—or to a fate just as bad as death—all along.

“Look at me!” Sierra snapped, and Arran obeyed. “I am the only person you’ll be able to turn to. Nobody likes you, nobody trusts you… You’ve been James’s attack dog for too long. Make no mistake, a war is coming, and it’s not the dull old squabble with McTavie. Blood begets blood, and James has been walking on a knife’s edge for a long time. I’ve had enough, as have others.”

“What others?”

“Never you mind. You need to choose whose side you’ll take. Time is running out, and you’d better choose well.” She stood abruptly, tossing a handful of coins onto the table.

“For the ale,” she added.

Arran stared stupidly at the money. “But you didn’t drink any.”

Sierra rolled her eyes. “Your ale, you fool. Don’t drink anymore.”