Page 32 of The Highlander’s Unexpected Wife

Alison stared at the closed door. She should slink away and find a way back home. But, once again, her need to know held her immobile. Slowly, she stood, then peered around the corner of the carriage toward the horses. She glimpsed the edge of the driver’s arm. He might be giving the horses some water or a treat.

With a whisper-quiet step, she headed toward the boxwoods. Another step and her dress tugged, then ripped. The tear of the fabric sounded loud to her. She froze. A murmur emanated from the front of the carriage. Alison tugged her dress free, then hurried to the side of the drive. She pressed through the low hedge and crouched, heart pounding.

After a long moment, her pulse slowed and she released the breath she’d held. Lord, she was too old for this sort of foolishness. The thought didn’t stop her from scurrying in a crouch behind the bushes toward the right side of the house.

Hair fell across her eyes. She shoved the loose tendrils behind an ear and, with a quick glance at the carriage, darted from the hedges to the side of the house and stopped beside a window. Carefully, she pushed onto tiptoes and peered through the glass into a parlor.

A lovely room, but empty. Her slippers sank into the moist ground as she crept around the side of the house to the rear. She reached the back and found another wing extended from the center of the house. She inched toward the other wing.

“How did you get out here?” a male voice demanded behind her.

Strong fingers seized her arm and swung her around.

Alison came face to face with a large, dark haired man and shrieked, “Get your hands off me.”

A lecherous laughed rumbled from his chest as his grip tightened. “Dinnae worry. You’ll get used to having hands on you.” He started to drag her away from the house.

“Release me.” She yanked hard, but he jerked her against his massive chest.

“Listen, you little bitch, you dinnae have to be conscious to be transported. The carriage is waiting.”

“Transported?” she said. “What do you mean? Who are you? Do you know who I am?”

“Enough,” he growled.

Alison drew a breath to scream. He clamped a large hand over her mouth and lifted her feet from the ground. She clawed at the hand over her mouth as he strode away from the house. She kicked. Her heel contacted his shin. He cursed, then tightened his hold around her waist. She gasped for breath.

“Another peep and I will drive my fist into your belly,” he snapped

What was happening? Had this been a trap?

Her kidnapper continued through a small grove. Alison’s heart thumped. Might she escape in the murk of the trees? His arm formed a vice around her waist. She scanned the trees. If she could grab a small branch, could she break it off and hit him with it before he knocked her unconscious?

They broke from the trees and, in the distance, next to two small cottages, two nondescript carriages waited. No crest on the doors, no identifying marks, at all. Could she bribe this man or one of his companions?

They reached the nearest carriage. He yanked open the door and tossed her inside. Alison landed on the seat and bounced, then caught herself before she tumbled face first onto the floor. Three young girls occupied the seat across from her and a fourth girl sat to her right. Alison reached for the door handle, but found none. She groped the wall.

“There are no handles,” the woman to her right said.

Alison twisted in her seat and looked at the girl who had spoken. The carriage lurched into a slow roll. The low burning candle to the right lit the girl’s face. Young, but not as young as Alison first thought.

“I thought they only wanted blondes,” another girl said.

Alison looked at her. “I beg your pardon?”

One blonde girl elbowed the speaker in her side. Her furrowed brows said what no words did: be silent. Alison studied the girls across from her, then glanced at the girl to her right. They appeared amazingly calm for women who had just been kidnapped. The girls across from her glanced at one another as if sharing an unspoken thought.

The girl beside Alison locked gazes with her and said, “How did you come to be here?”

Alison hesitated. Something about the women bothered her. Did she admit the truth? “I was brought here just as you were,” she replied.

The woman nodded and whispered, “Lord Weston didn’t tell us you were to be here.”

Alison’s stomach clenched and her heart stammered, but she said in a calm voice, “Aye.”

The blonde’s gaze sharpened, and she said, “Say no more.”

Alison nodded and turned her attention to the window. She thought being discovered in Lord Weston’s bedchamber was bad. This was worse.