“What are ye up to in there?” the Highlander said through the door. “Fair warning, I’m coming in to fetch ye.”
“Don’t!” she called out.
Margaret’s heart raced as Lizzie scrambled up the rope ladder and pulled it up behind her. As she picked up the basket, her gaze caught on the pouch with her shattered onyx lying on the bed. Without pausing to think why, she slipped it into the side of the basket.
Then Margaretopened the door to her kidnapper—and whatever fate would bring her.
CHAPTER 8
The Highlander, who was pacing the small room like a caged animal, came to an abrupt halt and swept his gaze over her, which did nothing to calm her nerves.
“Ye can’t take that,” he said, pointing at the basket. “We’re on horseback.”
Sudden panic made her limbs weak and her throat tight. She had to persuade him to let her bring the basket.
“Surely, ye cannot expect a lady to go on a long journey without a second gown, extra stockings, and”—Margaret turned to put her body between him and the basket while she fumbled for what else she could say was in it—“and…other things a woman needs.”
He heaved a sigh and gave her a lopsided smile. “All right, princess.”
With his easy smile and that twinkle in those deep blue eyes, fringed with impossibly long dark lashes, this Highlander was far too good looking to trust. Handsome men were the worst.
While she was shamelessly staring at him like a girl half her age, he took the basket from her before she realized it.
“By the saints, lass, what do ye have in here? Rocks?” he said, hefting the basket.
She barely managed to stifle a gasp as Ella began to wiggle beneath the blanket. Moving quickly, Margaret leaned over the table to blow the lamp out.
A steel grip clamped around her arm. “I hope ye weren’t planning to slip out in the dark and escape.”
“This is my friend’s home,” she said. “I don’t wish to risk setting it afire by leaving a lamp burning.”
“Just who is thisfriend?” he asked.
“He—” She stopped speaking because the Highlander was no longer listening for an answer. With her heart sinking, she followed his gaze to the wriggling blanket covering the basket.
“Sh-i-t-e,” the Highlander said on a long exhale.
###
God grant him patience, did the lass have a dog in there? Ladies like her were fond of those wee snappy ones with sharp teeth. Finn whipped off the blanket before the damned thing could bite him.
A bairn with curly blonde hair, rosy cheeks, and enormous blue eyes stared up at him. He was so stunned that words failed him. Slowly, he dragged his gaze from the apparition to Lady Margaret.
“What in the hell is this?” he asked. “No one told me there would be a bairn. They said you were barren.”
She winced slightly at the wordbarren, but he was too upset at the moment to apologize.
“Whose bairn is this?” he asked.
“Mine.” Lady Margaret picked the child up and clutched her to her chest. “She’s mine.”
“I meant, what man does she belong to,” he pressed her. “Who’s the father? Is it your husband, Drumlanrig?”
“He’s not my husband any longer,” she said. “And Ella is not his.”
Then the child was the result of an affair. An adulterous affair. This must be the true reason her husband discarded her.
“Who is the father, then?” he asked.