Page 45 of A Bride for the Kilted Beast

He shook his head and shrugged, feeling the familiar frustration at not being able to simply take her out of the terrible place and set her free. “I dinnae ken. Naething’s final yet as far as I can tell. But listen, ye havetae trust that I’m doing all I can tae keep ye safe.”

She nodded, her large, gray eyes glittering ethereally in the candlelight. She crossed her arms across her frail body in a protective gesture, so that the blanket enveloped her. Odhrán was almost overwhelmed by the urge to hold her and comfort her. But he knew she would recoil from him, and he would not be able to bear it.

“I’m grateful,” she said eventually, an edge of fear to her voice.

“Just try tae trust me a while longer,” he urged her the through the grille. “Dinnae give up. Look, I have tae leave ye now, fer there’s much tae dae if I’m tae help ye. I’ll come and see ye as soon as I can, all right?”

She did not answer, just nodded briefly at him before turning away and going to her bed. She sank down with a weary sigh.

Feeling a hollow ache in his chest, Odhrán left the dungeons. As had become his habit after visiting Maddison, he stopped for a few moments outside, to rid his nostrils of the prison stink.

He longed to share his plans with Maddison, to set her mind at rest about her future. He wanted to tell her that, for her sake, he was going to kill his vile father and become Laird of Lennox himself, when he would set her free. But he accepted it was impossible. It would mean revealing to her who he really was. Once she learned that, she would hate his guts and never trust him an inch.

But he had figured out a new plan to deal with the imminent threat his father posed to her life. With that in mind, he went to see his father in his study.

“Enter,” his father said when Odhrán knocked on the study door. He went in, and he stopped dead in his tracks with surprise. For sitting there in an armchair opposite the laird, a dram of whisky in hand, was his cousin, Rollo.

Rollo always reminded Odhrán of a smug, fat weasel. His cousin shared the dark, saturnine Lennox coloring, but he wore his hair swept back, and his cheeks were rather smooth and chubby. That, along with a set of black beady eyes, gave him the sleek, sly look of the little predator.

“Good day tae ye, Cousin,” Rollo drawled with his usual mocking smirk, not bothering to get up. He did at least raise his glass in acknowledgement.

“Rollo,” Odhrán replied, giving the man a terse nod.

“I’m surprised ye’ve got the nerve tae show yer face in here,” the aird said, looking Odhrán up and down as if he was a beggar on the street.

Rollo let out a sharp, barking laugh. “Yer faither’s been tellin’ me all about yer escapades, Odhrán. Things dinnae seem tae be goin’ yer way, dae they? Ye couldnae keep hold of yer bride, it seems.”

Odhrán glared at him. “’T’was nae me fault,” he said, feeling defensive and inadequate, as he usually did in Rollo’s company. “Things happened that were beyond me control.”

“Wheesht, boy! If ye’ve come whinin’ and makin’ excuses, ye can get out now,” the laird told him shortly, topping up his whisky and pointedly not offering Odhrán a drink. He did not even invite him to sit down but left him dangling until he felt like a schoolboy summoned to the master’s study for a dressing down.

“I dinnae why ye’re going tae all this bother tae find a wife,” Rollo put in. “Me sister-in-law’s ripe fer a weddin’ and a beddin’,” he went on, giving another barking laugh at his own wit. The laird laughed too, a dark, grating sound.

“It might come tae that, Rollo, the way things are going,” he said.

“I’m nae marryin’ her,” Odhrán said, thoroughly riled now. “She’s fat and forty if she’s a day, and everyone kens she nae all there,” he burst out, being personally acquainted with the lady in question.

The two older men laughed, clearly enjoying his discomfort. He hated them both with every fiber of his being.

“The way ye’re goin’, boy, ye’d be lucky if she’d accept ye,” the laird observed. “And I have a bone tae pick with ye.”

“What’s that, Faither?” Odhrán asked, though he could guess what the old man was going to say. He was nothing if not predictable.

“Why is that Kincaid wench still alive? Did I nae tell ye tae end her? What’s up? Ye have nae got the stomach for it. Bah! Ye call yersel’ a man. I’ll do it mesel’, and I’ll enjoy it.” The laird sneered at him.

Odhrán kept his temper under control. Losing it would destroy any chance of getting his way.

“That’s what I wanted tae see ye about. I have an idea that will kill two birds with one stone,” he said.

“Ach! Another of yer bright ideas, is it, eh?” The laird shook his head, and the look he exchanged with Rollo just cemented Odhrán’s determination to kill him eventually. Both of them, in fact.

“I’ll come back and talk tae ye about it later,” he said, turning to go, unable to stand them any longer.

“Dae as ye like, boy. It makes nae bones tae me.”

“Just wait, Faither, that’s all I ask, just dinnae dae anythin’ until I can talk tae ye in private. ’Tis a good plan, I tell ye.” He shot Rollo a look of pure hatred, just for being there and blocking his plan to talk to his father. The odious man merely smirked all the more and sipped his fine single malt.

“Come back later, then, if ye like. But it had better be good. If nae, I warn ye, I’m already talkin’ tae Rollo here about how I’m reconsiderin’ who’s gonnae take over the lairdship when I’m gone.”