Beggars Don’t Swagger
Corbin lay on his belly in the long grass, watching Kyla and the lass hurl rocks from their slings.
Lily Maxwell was a far cry from what he’d previously been led to believe. She was still a bairn, but already showing curves in all the right places—an acceptable wife for him. If he married Lily, the only impediment to legally taking control of Caerlochnaven was Broderick. He didn’t foresee getting rid of the laird as a major problem—a bribe for a greedy servant here, a vial of monkshood there—simple. Corbin planned to play the part of the grieving brother-by-marriage. King James would be grateful to rely upon his strong presence in time of need.
It was so perfect, he didn’t understand why he hadn’t thought of it before. Or had he? The chit wasn’t a bad shot with the sling, either.
Now Kyla, on the other hand, looked like a veritable Amazon as she stood with impressive thighs braced, breasts thrust out, whirling the sling above her head and striking every single target. There was something to be said for male attire hugging a female derrière.
He’d marry Lily, but Kyla would warm his bed. No, she’d set it on fire.
The prospect was too arousing and he was getting bored just watching, not to mention chilled in the damp grass. They’d been practicing for over an hour and time was of the essence. Once the abbot told Broderick that Corbin had survived the sinking, his enemy would hie back to Caerlochnaven as fast as he could.
But it would be too late.
*
A persistent prickle across her nape warned Kyla they were being watched. She scanned the surrounding meadows several times, but saw nothing. The castle was clearly visible only half a mile behind them. She was probably imagining things again.
There was no point alarming Lily who was making good progress with the sling.
Still, she wished she’d asked one of the Maxwell clansmen to accompany them.
There was no sign of Broderick’s boat when she shaded her eyes one last time to peer out across the Nith. She resigned herself to waiting within the safety of the castle. “We should get back,” she said.
As expected, Lily balked, until Kyla started to walk away.
The lass had just caught up with her when a man appeared out of the grass a dozen yards ahead. She stopped abruptly and clenched her jaw, annoyed she’d not heeded her father’s insistence on always trusting her instincts.
This odd-looking peasant had, indeed, been watching them.
Lily gripped her arm. “Who is he?”
“Ye dinna recognize him?”
“He’s nay from Caerlochnaven.”
Kyla narrowed her eyes as the man slowly walked toward them. He was wearing a strange sort of plaid slung over his shoulder, and trews that looked far too big. “A vagrant, mayhap?” she suggested.
But he swaggered.
Peasants and beggars didn’t swagger.
“I’m afraid,” Lily murmured.
Never taking her eyes off the stranger, Kyla stooped to feel for a rock. Her hand settled on one that wasn’t round or heavy enough, but it would have to do. She nestled it in the pouch of the sling. “Stay behind me,” she told Lily.
The man slowly drew a knife from his belt.
She began the slow swirl of the sling above her head.
“Put down the weapon, Kyla. I’ll easily dodge your missile, and then I’ll gouge out young Lily’s eyes as your punishment.”
“Who is he?” the bairn whimpered.
Kyla lowered the sling as ice flooded her veins. “’Tis Corbin Lochwood, back from the dead.”
*
The incoming tide was impeding the progress of Broderick’s boat. Frustrated, he urged the oarsmen to pull harder. When he caught sight of Kyla and Lily standing together on the shore, his first reaction was one of relief, but then he saw a man sitting on a nearby boulder.
Adrian’s gasp confirmed his worst fear. “’Tis my master,” the lad rasped.
“Hold,” Broderick told the rowers.
Lochwood got to his feet, stood beside Lily and waved a knife. “If you stay out there, I’ll be forced to cut your sister’s throat in front of your very eyes,” he shouted.
“Proceed slowly,” Broderick muttered to the crew. “’Tis a brave man who threatens a wee lass,” he shouted back. “Yer quarrel is with me. Let the women go.”
As his boat neared the shore, the fury contorting Kyla’s beautiful face made his blood boil. Corbin had bound her and Lily together at the wrists with what he suspected was a sling. His sister’s face was ashen, but she was doing her best not to cry.
“I’ll deal with you when you come ashore—quickly now,” Lochwood replied.
“We’ll rush him,” one of his crewmen suggested.
“He’ll kill them if we do,” Adrian replied.
Broderick suspected the valet was right. To his frustration, he still hadn’t come up with a solution when the boat scraped bottom.
“Adrian,” Lochwood snarled, “you and the oarsmen stay in the boat. Maxwell, leave your boots and weapons, then get out and move to yonder shallows.”
There was nothing for it but to obey. Broderick locked eyes with Kyla, hoping she understood the silent message that he didn’t intend to let Lochwood kidnap them.
Standing knee deep in cold water several feet away from the rowboat, he challenged his enemy. “What now?”
“Now, Mistress MacKeegan and Mistress Maxwell will get into the boat.”
Kyla glared at him, but he pushed her. Bound to each other, the lasses struggled not to fall in the reeds.
Broderick had assumed Lochwood’s revenge would focus on Lily, so why was he abducting Kyla? “Where do ye intend to take them?” he asked as Lochwood climbed into the boat after his captives.
He sat between Adrian and Kyla and shoved Lily to sit awkwardly in the belly of the boat, though her wrists were still bound. “You won’t need to worry about that,” he crowed with a smirk. “Take off your clothes.”
Had he misheard? “My clothes?”
“And toss them over to me. I’m in need of a new wardrobe, as you see.”
“Ye canna leave him standing here naked,” Kyla protested.
“I don’t intend to, my dear. Laird Maxwell is going for a swim.”