To Steal a Highlander's Heart(28)

He concealed his discomfort with a grin as he came to his father’s side and dragged the small wooden chair closer. “Good morrow, father,” he greeted as he sat. “Are ye well?”

“Aye, aye, well enough. Have ye seen Margot this morn? I’ve not seen her yet.”

“She’s busy, Father.”

“She is? What have ye got my bride doing? For surely I cannae persuade her to take her duties seriously.”

Morgann let slip a wry smile. “None can, but I try.”

“And here ye take yers too seriously.”

“Someone has to.”

“I worry for ye, lad. Ye cannae bear everything on those shoulders of yers. Ye need to share yer burdens.”

“With someone like Margot ye mean?”

His father gave a gruff laugh. “Margot is well enough for an old man like me but ye need a woman like yer mother. One of good character.”

In spite of himself, Morgann laughed, trying to ignore the voice at the back of his mind that told him he’d already found one. “Ye mean she’s good only for a quick tumble. Then why did ye marry the woman? Father, there’s more to that woman than good looks. She has a black heart.”

The old man shook his head. “She’s just a simple lass. Ye need to realise that, Morgann. Not many women are like yer mother, so I settled for what I could get. She keeps me warm as long as I keep her in fine clothes and that will do for me. Soon ye’ll find yerself a good lassie of strong character and Margot will be content not to have to worry about her duties.”

Morgann fought the urge to grimace. They’d debated Margot’s character many times and the man refused to believe she was anything but a beautiful, empty-headed woman. But Margot was not so simple. If she was, Morgann would have little to worry about.

“So have ye any news for me?”

Pressing his fingers to his temples, Morgann debated telling him of Alana’s presence. In truth, he didn’t know what to say and he feared making his father sicker, but he also needed him to know of Margot’s plot. He’d wondered if Margot intended to make his father aware of Alana’s captivity but decided it was unlikely. If Alana disappeared suddenly, Margot would have no one to answer to but himself and would still have the protection of being his father’s wife.

With a sigh, he forced a smile across his face. “Nay, Father, no news. All is well.”

***

Alana saw little of Morgann that day or the next two. It riled her for she urgently wanted to confront him. And kiss him. She shook her head. Nay, not kiss him. Anything but that. If what Margot had told her was true then sharing another kiss with him was more senseless than ever. She certainly didn’t want to be some other woman’s replacement. And who could compete with such beauty?

She slumped onto one of the chairs that sat around the edge of the hall and glanced at Morgann’s stepmother who was clearly inebriated. The woman drank a lot. Alana plucked at the fabric in her hand and yawned. She was in no mood for embroidery. Her feet twitched with the need to do something. There was still no word from her father. Morgann had even sent another messenger out that morning. Why was he delayed? Was he gathering an army strong enough to knock down the walls of Glencolum? Her stomach twisted. She hoped not. A siege would bring such devastation to both sides she hardly dared to think on it.

And she’d still found no way out. Margot had hinted at her being able to escape through a drainage gate in the wall but mayhap Morgann had thought of that as there was always a guard posted in front of it. She blew out a breath. It was hopeless.

The large hall door swung open, letting in a gust of cool air. The day had begun grey and cloudy, gradually turning into heavy rain, leaving Alana feeling more like a prisoner than ever. Morgann strode in, his dark hair damp and spikey. Water dripped down him and moulded his plaid to his body. Alana knew she was gaping as she watched his every move but couldn’t look away. The linen of his shirt was almost transparent, revealing every indent in his physique. He rubbed a hand over his face and glanced at her.

Alana yelped as she jabbed her needle into her finger. Cheeks heating furiously, she looked down to see blood pooling on the pad of her finger. The sight made her stomach roll which was odd for she normally had a strong stomach. As she brought the finger to her lip, she lifted her head and gulped.

“What have ye done to yerself, lass?” Morgann demanded as he came over and snatched her hand.

“Naught.” She tried to drag her hand from him but he kept his grip firm as he inspected the damage.

He blotted the finger using the sleeve of his shirt and gave her a tilted smile. “Daft lass,” he said softly.