Free Captured by a Laird by Margaret Mallory Page A

about becoming his wife.
    He was marrying her for the sake of his brothers and clan and to carry out his promise of vengeance. She was a means to an end, and that was all she could be to him.
    “I hope we can have a cooperative union and be useful to each other,” he told her.
    “A practical arrangement, then?” she asked.
    “Aye.”
    “I’ll ask the servants to prepare a bedchamber for ye,” she said, and stood as if to dismiss him.
    “You’ll ask them to prepare our bedchamber.”
    She arched her eyebrows. “That is beyond the practical arrangement ye suggested.”
    “’Tis exceedingly practical,” he said. “I am the chief of the Humes, and I need heirs.”
    She dropped her gaze to the floor, and her shoulders drooped on a slow exhale.
    “There are benefits to marriage that we shall both enjoy.” He brushed his knuckles against the softness of her cheek and brought her eyes back up to his. “I’m looking forward to them verra, verra much.”
    “Well, I am not,” she said with a flash of anger in her eyes. “This is far too soon. Ye must respect that I am newly widowed and grant me time.”
    Her rejection stung more than he wanted to admit.
    “What I must do,” he said, “is wed and bed ye before anyone attempts to thwart me.”
    “How dare ye be so indelicate as to speak of bedding me,” she said.
    “I dare do more than speak of it.” He let a slow smile curl the corners of his mouth. “And while no lass has ever accused me of being delicate, I’ll try to be gentle, if that’s how ye like it…”
    She slapped his face. While she did not have the strength to hurt him, the lass did put all she had into it.
    He grabbed her wrist to prevent her from slapping him a second time and leaned down until they were nose to nose. “We shall be husband and wife before the sun sets.”
    “I shall not do it,” she said, holding his gaze.
    “Did ye hear me say ye had a choice?” he asked. “Be in the hall in one hour.”
    “Or what?” she asked, tossing her head.
    “Or I shall carry ye down.”

CHAPTER 10
     
    David stomped down the stairs. Why did every conversation he had with Lady Alison leave him feeling like a brute?
    Taking the castle was a simple matter compared to taking his bride. While he could not afford to become attached to her, he did not wish to make her miserable either. He wanted her content—and in his bed, where he’d make her more content.
    Leave it to Will to think of bringing a gift. At ten, his brother had the wisdom to win females over with honey, rather than threats. Of course, Will had not brought the pup for that purpose, but because he had lost his father and thought the lassies must be grieving too. Will was probably right about that. Though Blackadder was a foul man who deserved a worse death than he got, he had been their father.
    Damn it, David should have brought a wedding gift for his bride. He’d had more important matters on his mind. Besides, what in the hell would he give her?
    He had informed the servants about the wedding, and they were scurrying about the hall when he entered, cleaning and such. He collared one of the men and pulled him aside.
    “I want my bedchamber prepared for the wedding night,” he told him. When the servant gaped at him as if he did not understand, David waved his hand. “Flowers, whatever a bride expects.”
    “The laird’s bedchamber?” the servant asked, unease pinching his face.
    “Aye, my bedchamber,” David said, glaring at him. “And move Lady Alison’s things into it at once.”
    Best she know from the start how it would be. Her former husband may have been content to let her sleep in a chamber with her daughters, but he would not.
    A useless wave of fury seized him at the thought of Blackadder bedding Alison first and for all those years. He added that injury to the list of the dead man’s crimes.
    Had their marriage been a close one? Had she slept with her daughters while Blackadder was alive, or did she move