His Bonnie Bride, Hannah Howell [best ebook reader for chromebook .TXT] 📗

yet Tavis did not even try to do that. In fact, there had not even been the hint of a kiss. Storm smiled a little when she recognized that she felt piqued. She certainly did not want to be ravished, but she could not help but wonder why, when it was his perogative as her captor, Tavis MacLagan had not touched her.

"What is that smile for, cousin?"

"I am smiling o'er the vagaries of a female's vanity." She grinned. "I do not wish to be ravished yet 'tis annoyed I am that it has not been tried. 'Tis starting me to wonder where or how I am lacking." She laughed along with Phelan. "Ah," she moved to open the door when someone knocked, "our escort to dinner."

Angus led them down the hall, he and Phelan chatting amiably about the hunt that day. Everyone, save Janet, had been quite friendly. If it were not for the guard always at their side, it would be easy to forget that they were prisoners. It would also be easy to forget that the MacLagans were the hereditary enemies of the Eldons, that the reiving and the fighting had been going on for generations.

Storm knew she was in danger of forgetting that fact with Tavis. The time spent talking, laughing and arguing with the man had served to obscure that. It took a greater and greater effort for her to remember it. It was the same with most of the others she had come to know at Caraidland but, with that insight into herself that so often helped her, Storm knew it was far worse, far more dangerous with Tavis. She not only forgot that he was the enemy, her captor, but she was rapidly falling in love with him. That was not only foolish, but could lead her down a path to a great deal of pain.

Tavis greeted her at the door of the hall as he had all week. It was hard for him to keep up a casual demeanor, for he wanted her more with each passing day. Yet, he found himself enjoying getting to know her. Here was a woman who was not swayed by empty, artful phrases, one who had the opinions of a well-informed mind and was not afraid to voice them and defend them, and one who had a sense of humor as well as the ability to laugh at herself, her frailties and errors. He had discovered that, while she possessed a temper and an open, beautiful laugh, she also had a ready wit, pride, honesty, modesty and many another quality that he had lately found rare in a woman.

The one thing that truly amazed him was her lack of awareness concerning her own beauty and attraction for a man. Features that had promised beauty on the small girl had fulfilled their boast. Her wide, slanted amber eyes still seemed to fill her small heart-shaped face, thick, long brown lashes giving them a sensual look, and the tilted brown brows accentuating their shape. No changes had occurred in the satiny alabaster skin, but the full mouth had lost its childishness and now begged to be kissed. Tavis did not think she had grown all that much taller, but she had gained all that was needed to heat a man's blood and carried it with a graceful, unconscious sensuality that was seduction itself.

It was as the meal drew to a close that the MacLagan messenger finally returned from Hagaleah. The sinking feeling that Storm experienced as the laird read the missive with an easily discernible frown told her that she had been foolish enough to harbor the small hope that the ransom would be paid, that she and Phelan would be released. She was curious as to whether her father's wife had openly tossed her to the wolves or was employing a subtle delaying tactic. The laird's face as he handed her the reply told Storm that she was not going to like it.

The blatant falsehood that excused Lady Mary from immediately paying the ransom made Storm laugh softly. There was little chance that she would have chased her father and brother to France. Even if she had not enough sense to fear the war, she would have feared her father's wrath. However, it gave the woman the needed excuse for delay, requesting proof that the MacLagans did, indeed, hold her and her cousin Phelan as prisoners, for the ransom was too high to hand over without such proof.

"I daresay my head on a salver would be the proof she craves," Storm drawled, smiling faintly. "So what do ye do now, m'lord? 'Tis my thought that this delay will soon become an outright refusal."

"Aye," Colin agreed with a frown, but then he smiled. "Your head is indeed the answer. A lock of that hair. 'Tis a rare color. There'll be few that have it. 'Tis proof enough. We'll send it and see what she replies. I cannae believe she is so confident she can see to your father's end, therefore can refuse to aid ye. We have tried for years."

Storm nodded. "As my father has always expected ye to. 'Tis true," she continued when she saw that she had everyone's full attention, "that the marriage is no marriage despite my two half brothers. My father knows of Lady Mary's many faults, but he does not see her evil nor her cunning. He feels that she should be content in that she wants for naught and thus pays little heed to her. As with most men, he would not look to a woman for his final fall, he being a strong knight, a skilled fighter."

"Why should he?" asked Sholto with the scorn of a man possessing an agile, strong sword arm.

"She has allies. I doubt not she could raise an army to fight him if she but called upon all her lovers," Storm drawled.

"Aye, but he has fought us often and come away alive, most oft unscathed," Iain pointed out.

"Would