The Great Scottish Devil Read Online Free PDF Page B

betrothed. He needed to send for Lady Stonewall before this situation became even more complicated.
     
    Annabel watched him walk away, rubbed her bottom, and felt even more determined to leave as soon as she could. He was far too comfortable with pulling her over his knee for a spanking. Yes, she might have had this one coming because they had talked about the subject. She’d agreed not to speak to his men about needing help, but she hadn’t found any of the village men agreeable to what she needed. She was getting desperate. Especially now that he’d not just spanked her—which was bad enough—but he’d bared her bottom. It had certainly hurt. But the touch of his hand on her bare skin had also sent shivers through her, had built warmth as much inside her as it had outside. Not good. Not at all.
    She stared after him. He was so big, so handsome, and so broody. She’d never liked moody, sad men before. Brodie Durward, though, drew her as no other man ever had. She wanted to take away his pain, wanted to soothe him…wanted to feel him moving against her. She sighed, okay, she wanted to feel him moving inside her, even if she’d only overheard the occasional young woman talking about such naughty things and had no experience herself.
    Rubbing her bottom a final time, she shoved the thoughts aside. They were not meant to be together. He was betrothed and she needed to remember that. Maybe all she needed was a husband, just as he’d said. Maybe she should let him find her one. She’d give him a month, unless she found another solution to her problem. But one way or another she was leaving here soon.
     
    * * *
     
    “Find her. Kill her.” Alastair Sutherland stared across the tavern at the two men he’d hired to follow the Hendersons. They’d come to where he’d agreed to meet them this day by arrangement a fortnight ago. When they’d told him about Dougal Henderson dying, he’d at first felt great relief. After all these years his problem had gone away. But then they’d told him the daughter—The Problem—lived. And she’d gone off with Brodie Durward, of all people.
    The balding man, Darach, shook his head. “She’s under the protection of The Devil. You’re not paying us enough to tangle with the likes of him.”
    Alastair threw his mug of ale across the dark tavern, unconcerned with the startled looks from the few other patrons. He planted his hands on the scarred wooden table in front of his worthless mercenaries and narrowed his eyes. “If the two of you are too cowardly to go to the village of Drumnadrochit near there, then find someone who will. Or find someone who will fake allegiance to the great Lord Urquhart and go into his very castle grounds. I do not care what you do, but do something!”
    The taller man who’d done little talking until now, Colin, met Alastair’s gaze. “I might know of a man who would pledge allegiance as a knight of Urquhart.”
    “See to it, then. I want to hear of her death within a fortnight.” Alastair lowered his voice even more menacingly. “Do I make myself very clear?”
    At their nods of agreement, he turned and left the tavern. If the fools couldn’t handle the problem, he’d go after her himself.
     
    * * *
     
    He couldn’t sleep. Brodie’s head had started throbbing not long after he’d dealt with Annabel in the paddock. Something kept nagging at him, kept trying to break through the wall holding back his memories. He hated feeling so helpless, so weak. Everyone around him had nearly reached the end of their patience with him and he knew that. He owed them all a great deal for sticking by him. Someday he would find a way to make it up to them.
    Even though it was still dark outside, probably barely even the middle of the night, he climbed from his bed. He paced naked around his bedchamber, feeling like a trapped animal. Finally he couldn’t stay there any longer and wrapped his kilt hurriedly around his body. He tugged on his low boots and