Free His Stolen Bride BN by Shayla Black Page A

thus upon her life. What
     would become of Abbotsford, its vassals and gardens, should this captivity last? What
     of the village, her heritage, her father?
    What would become of her?
    The barbarian had ruined her plans to wed. If she wished to save them, she needed
     the key to the gate. He knew such.
    She must steal the key. To accomplish such a feat, she would have to search his pocket—when
     he did not wear his hose. For that, Locke would have to be asleep. She refused to
     put her hands anywhere near his powerful thighs and manly secrets. He was bold enough
     to believe she encouraged him and more than male enough to bed her, if only for sport.
    Averyl bit her lip. She plotted rebellion against a known killer. ’Twas foolish, but
     she could not remain. If she did, her future would disappear like a drop of water
     in an ocean. And the hate that seemed to permeate his every word and gesture might
     seep into her soul. Indeed, ’twas certain. Already she was learning to hate him back.
     
    * * * * *
     
    Murdoch entered the solar, striding past his leman’s belly, with a curse on his lips.
     She scurried forward to greet him. He silenced her with a glare and proceeded to his
     chair.
    “I hiv had a bath prepared for ye,” she whispered.
    One glance at her coy expression sent his temper soaring. “Back to the kitchen with
     you, wench. I’ve much to do.”
    Whores, every last one, from his first woman, to this last. Naught changed. Each used
     their bodies for their gain.
    Murdoch eyed the pouting redhead as she exited with a protective hand over her rounding
     belly. Aye, she’d made no secret of the fact she sought a husband of consequence to
     claim her and her brat.
    He stripped off sweaty traveling clothes and sank into the warm water with a sigh.
     Though she’d vowed the child was his, Murdoch knew he had not been the only man between
     her thighs. And a fool she was if she believed the simple wifely act of preparing
     a bath would induce him to give up on Lady Averyl.
    Damn his half brother, Drake. Averyl had been missing for nearly four days, and they
     had found only the sketchiest clues regarding her whereabouts. Still, he refused to
     rest. After scrubbing himself clean, he rose.
    His bride no doubt looked for him each day with her lovesick gaze, awaiting rescue.
     He would not let her down.
    Murdoch dressed quickly. His plan was in motion. When the two were found, Averyl and
     the wealth of land—land that had once belonged to MacDougalls—along with the power
     that came with their marriage would be his. As for Drake, he sincerely hoped the whelp
     of his father’s English whore found hell even more torturous than the slow death Murdoch
     vowed to provide.
    After a brief knock, Wallace, his cousin and steward, entered the darkening room.
    “Come in,” he barked. “What news have you?”
    “We have word from the west,” Wallace said. “A man claiming connection to Clan MacDougall
     possesses information.”
    Murdoch stopped pacing. “Does he come here?”
    “Aye, within the half hour.”
    Nodding with satisfaction, Murdoch clenched his fists. “And our soldiers, are they
     still searching?”
    “Morn and eve.”
    “I have looked through filth and down countless dusty roads for Lady Averyl.” He turned
     accusing eyes to Wallace. “Do not disappointment me with more failure.”
    Clearing his throat, Wallace assured, “We will see justice served for Drake MacDougall.”
    Anger roared until Murdoch heard it pound in his ears. “Drake is not a MacDougall. He is not worthy of any name but his whorish mother’s.”
    “But your father was wed to—”
    “Aye, my father married that English slut, Diera, and got a brat on her. But the son
     of such a woman will never bear the MacDougall name, not from my tongue.”
    Wallace nodded. “As you wish, my lord.”
    The placating expression on his cousin’s face annoyed Murdoch. But the business of
     capturing his half brother loomed more