Free The Knight's Temptress (Lairds of the Loch) by Amanda Scott

retorted. “Such a marriage would reunite our clan. Ye must want that.”
    Since she did not believe that Pharlain had anyinclination to reunite Clan Farlan under the leadership of its rightful chief, Lina thought it best not to reply to that and said instead, as tactfully as she could, “Whatever I might like, sir, you said certain things when we discussed it before that make it difficult if not impossible for me to consider marriage with you.”
    “Ye’d do well to consider the consequences I suggested—”
    “Threatened,” Lizzie interjected solemnly.
    Shooting her a murderous look, he held her gaze until fiery blushes darkened her cheeks. Then, turning to Lina, he said curtly, “Those threats were not idle ones. If ye’re wise, ye’ll consider what
both
of ye may suffer if ye remain willful.”
    To steady herself, Lina breathed slowly and willed her rapidly pounding heart to slow. Until it had, she gazed at Dougal, wishing she could will calmness into him as easily.
    He frowned, but he seemed merely irritable, not angry.
    Speaking quietly, she said, “I do not consider myself willful, sir. Nor would I reject friendship if you were to offer it before discussing this further. I do thank you for the mending, in any event. Having a task to do—”
    “Breaks the tedium, aye,” he interjected curtly. “But ye
do
be willful. And if it persists, Lady Lachina, ye’ll endure much
more
tedium unless your family or the lady Elizabeth’s can persuade James Mòr to return ye to their care.”
    “Do our families even know where we are?” Lizzie asked then.
    “If they do not, they will,” he replied.
    Turning on his heel, he strode toward the door.
    Lizzie said to his back, “Perhaps you might send them word of our situation, sir. We would be most grateful if you would.”
    Without bothering to look back or reply, he left the room and shut the door with a snap. The grating of his key in the lock followed.
    “How rude,” Lizzie said, looking bleakly at Lina. “I fear you were right about him all along. He isn’t going to help us get out of here.”
    “Perhaps not,” Lina said. “However, I doubt that we will stay as long as Master Dougal MacPharlain thinks we will.”
    “You’ve thought of a plan!” Lizzie exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “Oh, Lina, tell me what we must do.”
    The image of Sir Ian attired in knightly garb, with flashing sword and glinting brigandine, filled Lina’s mind. She shook her head to banish it.
    As reckless and daring as he might be, Ian could not carry the two of them out of the tower room, down the stairs, across the castle yard, and down the steep hill to freedom in a peat hod. Neither could they fly.
    The truth was that Ian was as daft in his own way as Dougal was in his. She had no more business expecting Ian to help them than Lizzie had to expect help from Dougal. Nor, Lina told herself firmly, had
she
any business to be scolding Lizzie for thinking of Dougal while letting her own thoughts dwell on Sir Ian.
    Aware that Lizzie’s face had fallen again, Lina said, “Don’t fall into another gloom, Liz. We’ll think of something.”
    “Why do you keep looking at those awful blankets?”
    “Do I? I suppose I have glanced at them now and now.I keep feeling as if I’ve dreamt all this. Do you not sometimes have such a feeling?”
    “I don’t think so. But I rarely remember my dreams.”
    “Well, it is as if those blankets have been trying to speak to me, as if they ought to be cloaks like the servants here wear. I expect you think I’m daft.”

    Friday afternoon, the clouds that gathered were darker and, unlike the gray ones that had hinted at rain all week, suddenly released a downpour.
    Ian, Adam, and Rob MacAulay were crossing the yard from the stables when it descended. They ran into the castle’s keep and up the short flight of steps to the great hall, where a welcome fire roared in the huge fireplace.
    Others had gathered there, including Colquhoun, who