“I merely lost my way,” Kenn rasped. “I meant nae harm. Ye can ask Laird Robertson for his opinion of me.”
Laird MacThomas arched one eyebrow as he continued to stare at him. “Why, I think the laird has a high opinion of ye. But why, pray tell, would I ask an opinion of the man who abducted my daughter?”
Kenn started. He had to bite back a smile.Yes! This was a game of chess, and he was winning. He'd thought Darach would attack the man with his warriors, not kidnap his daughter. He could now clearly understand the look in the laird’s eyes.
It was fear. They feared Darach.
The unfortunate fools dinnae ken I am the real mastermind. And they probably willnae until I have left them and their clans in ruins and ashes.
By kidnapping the laird's daughter, Darach had made a mistake that could prove fatal: he was about to make an enemy of one of his most powerful allies.
The fire was set, and Kenn knew he only had to fan it.
He met the laird’s gaze and straightened his spine. “That is unfortunate news for ye and yer daughter, my laird. I would hope that she isnae betrothed tae any nobleman yet or things might nae go so well.”
The laird’s expression darkened, and he rose to his feet. “I would prefer ye speak in clear terms, prisoner. And I would advise ye be wise in choosing yer words if ye have any care for yer tongue.”
Kenn bowed his head. “My apologies, my laird. I must have misunderstood, thinking ye'd want the truth rather than courteous words that would hide reality.”
Keith raised his hand as an angry murmur rose again from his ranks. Kenn watched him quietly. They were starting to get worried. He fought the need to chuckle and kept his teeth clenched.
The laird focused on him. “I am interested in hearing yer truth.”
Kenn took a deep breath. The laird had finally taken the bait. Now, he had to make sure not to anger him. “It's nae secret that the Robertsons are brutal men who do nae ken the soft touch of handling a lady,” Kenn started in a low tone. “His lairdship’s mother died in his father's hands, and Darach Robertson—God bless his soul—had a huge part tae play in his wife's death as well. I just think yer daughter would be much safer out of Robertson hands.”
He was about to bow again when a strong hand clamped down on his shoulder and turned him around. The man behind him balled his fist and swung. Kenn dodged his head to the side.
“God’s teeth, Rickard! Stand down!”
“Remove yer hand from my person,” Kenn snapped. The guard disengaged.
“Kenn McTavish, I would speak to ye,” the laird said. Kenn turned back to see the laird standing a foot away from him. “If so much as a strand of hair on my daughter’s head has been hurt, I'll break every bone in yer body and send ye cracked and twisted tae yer laird.”
Kenn shivered in fear.
“Throw him back intae the dungeon.”
A few guards started dragging him to the door.
“And Kenn?”
They stopped and turned him around.
“I've sent a message tae our men tae check out the Robertson keep,” he said. “‘Tis my hope—and should be yers too—that we hear from them soon and they bring good news.”
Kenn's heart raced as he was dragged all the way to the dungeon and dumped inside once more. He stared around the expanse of darkness.
Silence fell over him once again. In the cold, he started to shiver, speaking the words to himself over and over again.
He’ll come. He’ll come for me.
CHAPTERELEVEN
Jane paced the interior of her chamber until she thought she might go mad. She was tired of being on her own with nothing to do. After the breakfast she’d shared with Lorna, the friendly girl had asked pardon because she had to ensure the keep’s stores were stacked. Jane had been in her room since, spending half the time wondering why she’d not seen Darach or his brother at breakfast.
She pausedat the window and gazed out, inhaling the fresh spring air. The afternoon was warm, with only a light breeze, and she'd rather spend the day doing something useful than sitting in her room.
Making the decision, she gathered her shawl and hurried from the chambers.