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“He proposed a week after that and a week after that. I think by the third time, he and Neil realized that the carrot wasn’t working and it was time for the stick.”

Horror flooded him and bile was sour on his tongue as he imagined what that meant. “They didn’t beat you, damn their greedy hides?”

When she shook her head, relief made him sag on the stool. “They might have eventually, but I was the countess. The clan would have objected. Neil

tried locking me in my room and starving me.”

“The bastard.”

“When that didn’t work, his friend threatened to force me. That was when I knew I had to get out.”

Quentin desperately wanted to put his arms around her and offer comfort, but he knew she’d view any physical overtures as a threat. How he wished Neil Maxwell and his handsome, charming friend were in the room now, so he could beat the two mercenary cowards to a pulp. He was angry enough to take them both on and win.

“Did you climb out the window?”

A faint smile lightened her eyes. “I didn’t have to. The castle is full of hidden chambers and passages that I knew about and Neil didn’t. I got out of my room one night, made it to the stables, and rode my horse away in search of Glen Lyon, where I knew Laing would help me.”

Despite everything, Quentin gave a shout of appreciative laughter. “Good for you.” Although he couldn’t help shuddering at the thought of the dangers a lone girl faced, riding unprotected across the Highlands. “That’s how you survived Neil trying to starve you into submission, too.”

“Aye. Neil always thinks he’s cleverer than everyone else. It makes him easy to outwit.”

“I’m in awe. You must have been absolutely terrified.”

The brief amusement faded. “I decided the open road offered no more dangers than I faced at home.”

Actually he was complimenting her on everything she’d done. She was a remarkable girl, and one of the most remarkable things about her was that the whole awful narration hadn’t contained any hint of self-pity. If there was one thing Quentin admired, it was courage. Christabel Urquhart was the bravest person he knew, male or female.

“So what happens now?”

“I just have to stay hidden until midnight on Christmas Eve, when I turn twenty-one. Then I’ll throw Neil and his cronies out of Appin.”

“He mightn’t go willingly.”

“I doubt if he will, but Hamish and Emily have promised to help. Right now, the law is on Neil’s side. In a few days, the law will be on mine.”

“So Kit disappears and Christabel comes into her inheritance?”

“That’s the idea. As long as Neil doesn’t find me first.” The frozen look returned to her face as she contemplated that possibility.

“Even if he finds you, Hamish and Emily won’t hand you over. Anyway, I’ll kill the bastard before I let him or his filthy accomplice get their hands on you.”

Startled, she looked at him. “Why on earth would you? I’m nothing to you.”

That wasn’t quite true either. Determination flattened his mouth. “Nonetheless I pledge myself to your cause, my lady.”

This time she didn’t object to his use of the title. A shy smile softened that lush mouth, and for the first time, she regarded him without any fear. “Thank you.”

Chapter 5

“Is it still snowing?” Kit struggled to keep awake and upright upon her stool.

Already she’d caught herself slipping down toward the dirt floor a couple of times. She’d been up before dawn, mucking out the stables. Laing had made it clear when she asked for his help, that if she wanted to preserve her false identity, she couldn’t expect to be treated like the Countess of Appin in the Douglas household. She didn’t mind. She liked hard work, and the chance to spend all day with the laird’s fine horses was a blessing. But now the fire’s warmth and the silence that had descended between her and Mr. MacNab after that long, difficult conversation made her drowsy.

She supposed her torpor must mean she trusted Mr. MacNab, which was unexpected. For so long, she’d been jumping at her own shadow, and she’d been wary of him from the first. In part because he was a handsome young man, and her experiences of handsome young men hadn’t been reassuring. In part because everything female in her wanted so badly to trust the laird’s magnetic nephew.

It seemed her instincts had been right about Mr. MacNab. As he’d promised when they entered the hut, he made no attempt to touch her or bully her. Which didn’t mean she missed the tact and skill he’d employed to coax her story out of her.

How could she resent that, when he placed himself so firmly on her side? He proclaimed himself her champion. When she heard him say that, her heart had risen with sudden hope that she might make it out of this tangle in the end.


Tags: Anna Campbell The Lairds Most Likely Historical