Page 50 of In Bed with a Scot

“That is unsettling given our suspicions about him.”

“Aye, that is me thought exactly. So, I went tae look in on Isabelle tae see if she kenned where he might be, but she was nae in her room. Nae one has seen her since she left me office. I have nae sounded an alarm as I wanted tae see if she was with ye or nae afore I did so.”

Madden shook his head. “I have nae seen her since before she went tae speak with ye. Could she be bathing in the loch?”

“I sent Lorcan and Keelin tae search the grounds near the castle, while Cara and I searched the castle itself. She would nae have gone far of her own volition. She would nae have risked it with yer plans being put intae motion.”

Madden nodded in agreement.

A cry of distress from the direction of the library made both men take off running for the door. When they reached the room, they found Cara standing in the middle of the room, tears flowing down her cheeks. She looked up upon their entrance. “Bain has Isabelle.” She extended a piece of parchment towards them.

Arran strode across the room and took it from her. He scanned the missive with his eyes, then looked up at Madden. “It states that if ye dae nae bring Bain the money he asked fer, he will kill Isabelle.”

Madden stepped forward and took the paper from Arran. “He kens that we are lovers. Money or nae, he is nae going tae let her walk away.”

Arran shook his head. “Nay, he is nae.”

“Then we had best come up with a plan that gets Isabelle safely home and away from the bastard.” Madden was so angry and worried that his teeth ground together audibly.

“We will help,” Keelin’s voice sounded from the door.

Arran and Madden turned to find Lorcan and Keelin standing in the doorway. Lorcan nodded his assent. His eyes held a deadly fury. “They will nae live long enough tae regret their actions,” he threatened. “They should have kenned better than tae take the lady of the clan MacKay.”

Isabelle awoke to find herself lying on a bed, her hands and feet tied together. She lay there for a moment to gather her bearings, staring at a wall that looked a lot like the wall of her room when they had stayed at the village inn. She turned away from the wall to discover Bain sitting in a chair by the fireplace, his eyes boring into her skull. “Bain, what is this? Where are we? What happened? Why am I bound by ropes?”

“Ye, me dear wife, are me prisoner,” Bain’s voice held a deadly edge to it.

“Why have ye taken me prisoner? As ye so aptly pointed out, I am yer wife. I go where ye go, where I am told tae go. There was nae need fer violence.”

“If I had told ye tae come with me, would ye have?”

“I would have obeyed yer commands as always.”

Bain snorted. “Would an obedient wife rut like a bitch in heat with another man that was nae her husband?”

Isabelle did not know what to say to that, so she said nothing.

“Yer lover will meet his end, and ye will watch me kill him. He will nae be able tae resist coming tae yer rescue and when he does…” Bain dragged his thumb across his throat, grinning with an evil gleam in his eyes that caused a chill to run down Isabelle’s spine. Bain arose from his seat and crossed over to hover above her. “Once I have the ransom money and have killed yer lover, we will leave this place and ye will never lay eyes upon yer braither again. I will keep ye as me prisoner all of the days of yer life. Death is too quick a punishment fer ye, me dear wife. Life will be far more excruciatingly painful fer ye.” He caressed her cheek, lust in his eyes as he thought of all of the ways that he could bring her pain.

Isabelle summoned all of her energy to sit up, and spat in his face. “Dinnae touch me. I will nae even be caressed by the likes of ye.”

Anger flared in Bain’s eyes, and he backhanded her hard across the face. The force of the blow sent her flying back down onto the bed, her head banging against the wall. “Ye will stay down if ye ken what is good fer ye,” he growled, wiping the spit from his face. He moved back over to his chair by the hearth. “We will sit quietly and wait fer the arrival of yer lover.”

Isabelle had no notion how long she had been unconscious. It could have been hours or days; she had no way of knowing. Her face and head hurt. Something warm trickled down the back of her neck. Panic began to grip her soul. Her father had died of a head injury. She did not wish to do the same. In an attempt to keep herself calm; she turned her attention back to the issue of Bain’s plan to kill Madden. “When will Madden arrive with the ransom money?” she asked, trying to gauge how much time she had to come up with a plan.

Before Bain could answer her question, a knock sounded on the door. Bain turned to the door with a wicked smile. Athol stepped inside. “Madden Kinnaird has arrived,” he announced, coming to stand beside his laird.

Sorrow tore at Isabelle’s heart. There was no time now for a plan. She had awoken too late.

Madden stood in the hallway outside of the room where he and Isabelle had shared their first night together. The irony was not lost on him. He wondered if Bain knew of the significance or if it was simply a coincidence. He held the ransom money in a cloth sack. He knew that Arran and Lorcan were but a whistle away, ready to leaping to his side, but he feared what he might find on the other side of the door.

If Bain has laid a hand on her in violence, I will kill him where he stands.

Raising his fist, he knocked on the door. Athol answered, opening the door and stepping back for him to enter. Madden’s eyes fell immediately upon Isabelle, bound with ropes upon the bed. There was a trickle of blood on her neck. “She is bleeding,” Madden growled in accusation.

Bain shrugged. “She hit her head.”

Madden struggled to stay his hand. He wanted to cut the bastard down where he stood, but Bain was standing entirely too close to Isabelle with a blade in his hands. “I have brought ye yer money. Release Isabelle and I will give it tae ye.”