Page 4 of A Bride for the Kilted Beast

Things seemed calm, with folks just going about their business. In fact, things had been calm for a long time since her return from being kidnapped and imprisoned by the evil and, thankfully, now-dead Laird of MacNeil. She knew the way, so why should she not go to Kirkauld by herself and get Maria and Hannah the herbs they needed? She had money, and she knew exactly what to buy.

She considered it, reasoning that the worst that could happen would be getting in trouble with her brothers if they found out. But she could make sure they would not by saying she had been in the village with Hannah all afternoon. The market at Kirkauld was only three hours away and she was already wearing her maid’s disguise.

How much danger could there be?

Deciding she deserved an adventure and picturing the pleased faces of Hannah and Maria when they came home to see she had everything they wanted, she set off. It was a long walk through beautiful moorland. The weather was fair, and the road was quite busy, so she felt safe, gaining confidence with each step that she had made the right decision.

Eventually, she reached the outskirts of Kirkauld, feeling pleased with herself. But as she made her way up the busy main street and approached the bustling market, she could not help noticing what a rough place it was.

Wild fiddle music and loud, drunken singing poured from the many inns lining the street. Rouged women in gaudy, revealing gowns unfit for polite company either lounged about against walls and doors, giving come hither looks to the men passing by or chattered and laughed with other groups of unsavory looking characters.

She had to sidestep a man who was brawling loudly with a woman wearing a stained gown of red silk—clearly a whore who had evidently been shortchanged, judging by the insults she was screaming at him—. From what Lillie could see, the man was getting the worst of it.

“Hey, hinny, would ye nae like a good time, eh?” a strange man with barely any teeth and a scarred face called to her as she passed by. She stepped up her pace, seeing the relative safety of the market.

“Now, who’s this braw, wee lassie we have here, eh?” leered another man, dressed like the commonest brigand, from a doorway as she hurried by. Yet another man tried to reach out and grab her arm. She swerved to avoid him, sickened by the smell of stale beer oozing from him.

She shuddered, realizing she may have made a big mistake in coming on her own, understanding exactly why Hannah had arranged for them to have an armed escort. But now that she had come all that way, she was loath to give up without getting what she had come for. Resolving to leave as soon as she had finished her shopping, she pressed ahead, towards the colorful stalls of the market just up ahead. There, she felt, she would be safer.

Once within the market’s boundary, she headed straight to the stall she knew would have at least some of the herbs she sought. They did, and so she bought them, then moving on to find the remaining supplies she wanted. She was browsing a stall not far from the northern edge of the market’s confines, concentrating on inspecting the stallholder’s wares, when she suddenly felt a hand grab her arm and pull her aside. Her heart plummeted to her boots, thinking for a split second that it was one of her brothers. An explanation for her presence leapt to her lips as she whirled to see who had caught hold of her.

To her horror, it was a strange man, a rough looking fellow in a stained leather jerkin, his hair unkempt, with no clan insignia to mark him out.

“Let go of me! Who dae ye think ye are?” she cried out, yanking her arm away. But the grip of the stranger’s hand only tightened, and she found she could not break free as he dragged her along, behind the booths.

“Ow, let go, I tell ye, ye’re hurting me!” she shouted, kicking at him. But it made no difference, for he ignored her and seemed impervious to her kicks. He headed for a horse tethered nearby and grabbed a rope from his saddle. “Help! Help me, please, someone!” she yelled, trying to fight him off as he slung her to the ground and began tying her wrists and feet together tightly. Soon, she was trussed up and unable to move.

Nobody took the slightest notice of her shouts for assistance when he tossed her into the saddle and mounted behind her before kicking up the horse and galloping away into the nearby tree line.

There, she saw a small group of men on horseback gathered beneath the trees.

CHAPTER TWO

Laird Diarmaid MacDonald and his younger brother Ciarán were walking side by side through the crowd of expectant men who had gathered to witness the unprecedented event—the public auction of several impoverished Laird’s daughters.

Some of the men, whom Diarmaid recognized as sons from other, lesser clans, were clearly there to bid, looking eager to trade their wealth for the blue-blooded reputations of the impoverished lairds who had stooped so low as to sell their daughters like cattle.

“Ach, it fair makes me want tae throw up me breakfast tae see such a thing,” Diarmaid said quietly to Ciarán with a shudder of repulsion.

“Aye,” Ciarán agreed. “’Tis disgusting, seeing high-born women being auctioned off like whores.”

“Only men as vile and corrupt as Laird Murphy Lennox and his son could dream up such an atrocity,” Diarmaid said as they stopped to watch a small dais being set up before the waiting crowd. A cold chill ran through him as he realized it was where the unfortunate girls would be made to stand, to be shown off to all and sundry before the bidding began. “I heard that five lairds were offered the chance to “sell” their daughters, and four agreed.”

Ciarán shook his head, obviously appalled by the thought.

“Ach, ye can hardly believe it. Ye can only wonder at how desperate those clans must be fer money.”

They moved slowly through the crowd, apparently just a part of the gathering. But they were far from idle. They were attending the atrocious event for a very specific reason, and their eyes continually scanned the surroundings for their intended quarry.

“Odhrán’s bound tae be here somewhere in person, even if his faither disnae want tae be openly associated with this atrocity,” Diarmaid muttered to Ciarán.

“But what’ll we dae when we see him?” his braither asked, doubt in his voice. “We cannae attack him here, out in the open. It’ll achieve naething but tae bring the Lennox army down on our heads, and that’s certain death.” He paused for a moment, his brow darkening. “Ye ken his faither would relish any excuse to wipe out the whole of the Kincaid clan.”

The two brothers knew it was likely him who had murdered their parents and brother Rónán, and abducted their sister Maddison as well. It was hard to believe they’d all been gone nearly a year to the day.

“Aye, ye dinnae havetae remind me,” Diarmaid told him morosely as a sense of powerlessness washed over him.

“Me point is, we cannae help Maddison if we’re dead,” Ciarán added.